Yesterday I came to the conclusion that I need to change my life.
Yes I do realize I was supposed to let this novel writing change my life. Yes...yes...yes...your right but at the same time it's just...what is the point of putting a band-aid on someone who just took a visit to the guillotine?
A good bit of the time I am not even remotely sure as to what it is I would like to do with my life and the other half becomes convoluted if I stare at it to long. Basically I just sit here and think so much that I freak myself out and forget what it is I am even trying to do or why i am trying to do any of it.
Narcissism has never been more of a self headache causing force.
I am quite tired of that little bit, the whole 'me' obsession. Literally and figuratively speaking I am so tired of this mess. This mixed up and confused bits of me, the decaying pain that has a death grip on this world, my own broken desires that are Hell bent on killing me one way or the other; talk about having issues.
Inspiration is a tricky thing at best and when it comes down to it we all have to live. inspired or not we are all here and have to play with what ever hand fate deals to us. Not exactly the most happy thought but it is the truth. There are variables in life we cannot and we should not be able to control. However there are many more for which we can choose about what to do.
The choice to choose is a difficult one. From personal experince it is much easier to react instead of simply choosing to act. Genuine action requires genuine motivation which requires an effort that those who depressed find lacking. But even with the lack of motivation there is still a choice. As a short and green muppet once said: "Do or do not. There is no try."
Depending for the person it is much easier to fool themselves into complacency with pretending things will get better or simply fix themselves.
Art requires determination and risk of failure. Art requires we open up ourselves in ways that cause our inner most self to bleed out onto the page; a pouring of the soul into the forge of creation.
I honestly cannot even remmeber what my point was in writing this:
Um, life is not so bad?
Do a good deed daily?
What goes up must invariably fall back hitting you squarely in the face?
Perhaps a fine mixture of it all.
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