Rarely do I find myself moving from the two spots that I write. One is at a desk and the other is at the kitchen table. Also I almost never allow myself to write without music, as I’m doing right now. I wish to break both of these bad habits.
While listening to music can help others get into the world that they’re writing about, most of the time I find it distracting. This would probably explain why I sometimes, most of the time, feel bad about my writing or feel that it isn’t up to par.
Right now I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed. My blinds are opened and my window is cracked. The only sounds that inhabit my room at the moment are the constant whir of the ceiling fan, and the faint noises from outside. The leaves rustle in the trees, birds chirp in the distance, and sometimes people walk by the house, their shoes clapping against the asphalt.
This… feels good. I feel like I’m more open to myself. I feel like my mind is more free to wander and I feel a sense of calm flowing through my as I write. The calmness is helped along by a tea & lemon scented candle that I have burning at the moment. The room is filled with the smell and it makes me think of my grandma’s house from when I was little.
I guess what I’m trying to say is: turn things off once in a while. Technology is a great and wondrous thing but when it comes to writing, for me at least, being left alone for a while can do wonders.
I have a hard time slowing myself down.
The cultural that I’m surrounded by is moving like a gnat on cocaine and I can’t keep up.
Future future future, dinner tonight, boredom, eventual hatred.
I have to grip my mind and force it to a crawl.
Don’t run out of your shoes.
Living on your own doesn’t sound like it’s all cracked up to be, I think I glamorize it too much. Part of me really likes the idea but the other half of my it petrified and mortified at the thought.
The independent side of me, however small he may be, finds the idea of living on my own to be somewhat freeing and fun. He thinks that even mundane tasks like taking out the trash or doing the dishes will be amplified because I would be on my own. More than likely I’ll room with friends so I don’t have a mental breakdown within the first week. The thought of spending the evening with friends and watching a movie with them while eating popcorn really appeals to me.
The cynical side of me has different thoughts however; he’s much bigger than the independent part of me. He says that living on my own would be hell on earth. He reminds me of getting a full-time job, instead of the part-time one I have now, and how that will eat up my time. How when things break I have to fix them, no running to someone else, hopefully some of my friends are handy. Paying bills, having no money from paying said bills, living paycheck to paycheck. Don’t you dare spend money on something that isn’t necessary. Don’t you dare screw up or you’ll be out on your ass in the cold and rain.
These two fight all the time. I don’t know who’s winning but there is probably some truth to both of their arguments. Maybe there’s a way to have the best of both worlds. Only time will tell.
I return to sit atop the brick mailbox, its smooth, curved top providing a fine spot to view my past.
I feel the breeze blow against my right, my hair bouncing every so often.
Present and past selves sit next to one another. I can see through his eyes and he through mine.
I miss them.
I hold the memories like a baby bird.
How the Summers of the past have spoiled me.
Do I blow things out of proportion? Maybe
Do I not care enough sometimes? Yes
Am I good person? I’d like to think so
So then why do I feel like shit?
Is art dead?
Currently, yes I think so.
Everything seems to be tied to money and power. Whomever has the majority of those two things runs the show.
I don’t proclaim to be a master of the craft and I don’t even claim to know what I’m talking about, I’m just a kid.
No one is a master. There is always room for more knowledge.
So what do we do?
Hold your heads high and in the face of adversity.
Create until it’s all burned away.
There is strength in numbers. This is something that is paramount to us as a species. Yet we as a society seem to be more focused on how we can divide each other. No progress can be made if we follow this path.
Most today are too scared to reach out for help for fear of being called weak. That could not be further from the truth. The needless stigma that surrounds seeking help is hurting us more than anyone may think.
Depression, anxiety, self harm, suicide, and a myriad of other issues seems to be what our generation embodies. We are a product of our society, this has been true for civilizations of the past and it will continue to be true for the future.
In short there’s nothing wrong with asking for help, I encourage you to do so; please take care of yourself.