Just words.

I know I don't write in this thing often and I know that a lot of the people who generally used to read this have dropped off the face of the earth so to speak, and I apologize. It's just that time is never an abundant thing for me and I really haven't had much to write about because I've basically been living the same day on repeat.

Not that my life is so boring that its absurd. I'm just... ridiculously without any news to bring to the table.

I wish that I read books as often as I used to. I need to get a hold of some money. Unfortunately getting a hold of something like that even for a purpose as noble as buying a gigantic stack of books that I don't even know if I like yet is very difficult. I'm going to be searching for a new occupation here soon to nullify that lack of monetary possession that plagues my life.

But I've been doing a lot of reflection lately in whatever spare time I have on knowledge that I had gained in the past but never put to good use and it's generally sparked by something incredibly simple. You know you might be a genius when you sit there at a desk and roll a pencil between your fingers and as you're watching it you think of something profound in and of that. Today it flowers and gardens for the most part and dripping rain from an overhang. Tomorrow, who knows what it'll be?

Sometimes inspiration comes from the smallest things but we're either too occupied in searching for that inspiration that we desperately need or we don't know how to express it. I suppose those are two of the most painful things about being an artist. In being a human being even, because if you have an idea and you can't express it, what good is it? Along with that, if you have no ideas but you're digging for truth or an answer to questions so that you might provide yourself with that idea, you tend to let the world pass you by. Every time that you blink, a second goes by.

Someday one of my greatest ambitions is to compile a bunch of things that I've created from certain points in my life that I view as crucial points and put them into a book. I don't want to blatantly tell the world a life story or have some sort of autobiographical seminar in writing or pictures. I just figure that these are human emotions and experiences and I want someone to pick them up and say to themselves "Wow... I totally understand this perspective." So that they don't feel as alone as they were or were.

Lately I've noticed that my friends have been dropping like flies. A good majority of the people who mean a lot to me seem to have moved along in their lives and I'm still stuck in a rut in a town that I despise. I don't know if it's more myself I have to blame or the effects of this city on my psyche. But every day I seem to feel a little bit more alone. I wish I hadn't made so many bad decisions in the past. My heart wasn't always right when I chose to follow it and I was foolish enough to believe that love conquers all and that I'd be able to do anything I wanted as long as time was on my side. Boy was I wrong?

Love has failed me in more ways than anything else has. I've had a fear of putting my heart into the hands of others simply because of this demographic. It's been a long time since I could fully and comfortably say that I was IN LOVE with someone. I've even begun to doubt the existence of such a thing. But...

I haven't given up on everyone. I've met someone who I adore and honestly, she is completely different from everyone else. At least I'd like to believe that. But to my knowledge, I've never met anyone who was worth my time like she has been. I only hope there's not an expiration date for feeling this way. Not for me, but for her. It's difficult to tell but all I can do is trust her and hope for the best.

I looked at a painting for a while today that depending on how you hold it, it's a story told from a different point of view. You look at it, you rotate. Look at it some more and rotate. It was fascinating but once I did a full rotation I felt like I had seen all there was to see. Trying to make something of an idea that can be twisted. But it didn't hold my attention anymore so I moved along. I feel as though I should have seen and felt more even after. But I didn't and I realize now that this is what art is anymore. This is what writing is. This is what music is. You try to make it look complex, but it's a simple story. You use big words that people need to find in a dictionary to understand so that people are impressed because you have an extensive vocabulary. But none of it makes sense and nothing is really all that beautiful about it.

I want to be straightforward with my art. I don't want someone to have to turn it and examine it to understand it. I want it to hit people so hard that it knocks them off their feet. And when they go back to read it, sure... they might know what to expect but I want it to never lose that movement.

That's all that's on my mind for tonight.