When looking for a writing prompt this morning, I ran across the following New York Times opinion article about all writers being failures.

I just think it’s interesting. Not a “Hey – we all suck so just suck a little less” speech/preach. That’d be too much for a Monday.
Writer’s Digest has this weekly prompt:

The ocean is a vast and beautiful thing. Taking a quick peak off the side of your boat you realize something strange. The tentacles slowly creeping up the hull aren’t your imagination and the captain’s nowhere to be found. Where do we go from here?

I think the ocean is vast, but I don’t think one can appreciate it until one is out on the water with no land in sight. When standing on the pier, one can see (if it’s not foggy) up the coast from Ocean Beach to La Jolla, perhaps. But looking out to sea, the water meets the sky and there’s nothing to measure size by. The brain fails to capture the enormity of the ocean from that angle. Just as the brain fails to capture the enormity of the solar system from the surface of the planet. So while I may say that I appreciate how large the ocean is, I can’t actually grasp it. Too big, my brain says. Let’s think of smaller, more manageable things, it says.
Let’s think of the coastline, or the tidal pools just south of the pier, or the waves hitting the pier, or even to the north where Dog Beach is. Let’s think about that guy who was sitting, minding his own business, watching the ocean when a dog (his dog I think) came up and peed on his back as if he were a stump.
(Is that more gross than the Ticks song? I’m not sure. I laughed briefly at the guy’s situation – so the Tick song got a better comic reaction from me. Poor guy. I gave him kudos for not beating or even yelling at his dog. But obviously he wasn’t the alpha dog in that relationship.)
The Pacific ocean is lovely. I wish I could sit and watch it right now.

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