I have always said that there’s no point in having principles if you don’t have any.

I realize that one liner is constructed to be ridiculous, but it hides an important truth: if we are to go anywhere or do anything, we must have principles.

Principles, or morals, or ethics, or whatever you might call them, are the guardrails that keep us from sailing off unpredictably into the abyss of anarchy.

(In case you’ve ever wondered, anarchy is bad. It’s not even a point of view. It’s a logical somersault.)

Principles are the only beneficial feature of civilization (more so than roads and hospitals), and the most apparent result of a relationship with God.

Everyone has principles of some kind or sort. The president has principles, waitresses have principles, and I have principles.

Well, I used to.

In the last post I broke several of my principles and I am feeling their loss.

Wise people say to only write what you know. This fact weighs heavily on my mind since I am acutely knowledgeable of my ignorance. To quote a wise man: “I am ignorant of many things, but I am not ignorant of my own ignorance.”

I have proficient knowledge on very little apart from writing. If I am to write only what I know, the only thing I can write about it writing. Writing about writing is too meta.

  1. 1.
    short for meta key.


  1. 1.
    (of a creative work) referring to itself or to the conventions of its genre; self-referential.

A long time ago I promised that in all of my writing, I wouldn’t write for praise, or applause, or even for simple likes on the bottom of the site page. I want to write what I want to write. I refuse to write anything just to appease people. I won’t write anything that doesn’t deserve to be written of its own merit.

So when I woke up last Saturday morning, I realized that I had absolutely nothing to give to you guys, my beloved readers. In a frantic desperation to find something, anything, to post on the blog, I sat down and scratched out my little insipid and trite defense and praise of writing. I did this just to fill space, to appease my readers. I knew the post would go well with my audience, just as raw meat is greedily eaten by a hungry tiger. Preaching about how wonderful writing is to a bunch of readers is nothing more than fan service. It’s like making a movie no plot and casting Sherlock and Loki as the main characters.

I apologize for using you guys and tickling your ears to gain applause and readership. I’m sorry. This Saturday I’ll post something real from my creative faculties, I promise. I won’t ever waste your time with worthless writing again.

Okay, we all know that’s a lie.

While pretending to write a sincere apology, I’ve just been playing to the crowd again.

I mean, after all, worse than writing about writing, this has been a post written about writing about writing. I’m sure the more perceptive of you have already seen through my curtain and saw that I’m just buying time until I can come up with something good next week. This is possibly a worse waste of your time than my last post.

Well, hopefully I won’t use up too much of your time from now on. 😉

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