three minute post one

this is my three minute post.  i'm attempting to write as much as i can in 3 minutes, making no edits or changes.  i really have no sense or purpose in this post, just rambling off whatever comes to my head.  right now i'm thinking about the implications of what all i can do in 3 minutes. the answer doesn't seem like much.  do i believe in the backspace key? yes, yes i do.  do i believe in reading over this before i hit publish?  yes, again.  am i going to check myself?  yes.  what happens if the binary sun system ends?  this has been trying.  there is nothing to do.  no help for it.  no hurt for it.  no sense in it.  no reason.  just a test to see how it goes.  i'm not sure if i'll even publish this.  what's the point?  why do i doubt myself* so often with these sorts of things?  is it me trying to be creative or is it me trying to just make something?  sometimes it's better to just put something out there and hope as opposed to not doing anything.  practice makes perfect, they say.  i've got 20 seconds left or so.  i just reached the end of line in a text pad.  i think i'm going to wrap it up befor

*FOOTNOTE 1: In the event of a global catastrophe, such as nuclear Armageddon, zombie apocalypse, or a butterfly pandemic, one always finds time to question the actions of oneself.  Was there something more I could have done?  Was releasing that tub of toxic, glowing waste into a butterfly garden a bad thing?  Should I have not pressed the “FIRE” button?  Of course, it’s more than a bit ridiculous to doubt oneself after the decision’s been made.  What good does it do?  It’s like when playing Texas Hold ’em.  You get dealt a 2-9.  You don’t play the ante and sit out.  The flop turns over a 2-2-K or something.  There’s no good to be done by sitting there and thinking that you wish you would’ve paid that ante.  I mean, it was perfectly reasonable to fold on that 2-9 deal.  Once you’ve committed, stick with it and go on; otherwise you’ll be miserable.

That’s sometimes the feelings I get when constructing posts here on Rememorandom.  I question myself.  Do I really want to hit that Publish button?  Yes, and no.  Sometimes I can’t help but see the futility in it all.  I can’t help but wonder why I press on.  Then I remind myself that it’s something that I’ve committed to doing, to work on my writing and to stretch myself into creative venues.  Then I laugh at myself for doubting myself.  It’s all a vicious cycle, like selecting the heavy-soiled setting on the washing machine.  Ultimately, I always end up with the same conclusion: Who cares?  In the big picture, it doesn’t matter one way or the other, so I go for it.  For better or for worse.