There are two colors in my head

There are two colors in my head

What is that you're trying to say

What is that you're trying to say?

Creativity.

Does it comes with it's own baggage? For some time now I've been thirsting to create. I used to keep a journal. You know the one - the one that's really meant as an artists' sketch book. But I use it becuase it has no lines in it. I don't like lines on paper, I find it too restricting. I mean, you can't just suddenly sketch something if you felt like it. However, now I don't write much of anything anymore. If misery is the root of all things creative, then I should be churning shit out like crazy.

But I'm not.

I barely even update this little island of an outlet of whatever creativity I have left anymore.

Isn't it funny when your life starts to turn out to be just "a little" too much like a bret easton ellis novel?

Actually it's not funny at all.

Actually it's kinda scary, and sad.

Remember when we're back in highschool or even junior high? The time in your life when you first realized that life is full or pain and disappointments? How in the WORLD did we deal with that then? I mean, we didn't have alcohol didn't have drugs (yes, my age is showing, cuz I know that kids today are all up in that crazy shit) Hell, I didn't start drinking like a fish til my junior year in highschool. (sidenote: although I WAS doing shots at the tender age of 5 when I was in Taiwan. There's no drinking age and chinese people seem to like getting 5 year olds drunk. Apparently we're even cuter when we're stumbly...but I digress)

But I mean, back then we just DEALT with the pain. Sure, pain came in much more mundane forms back then: this girl/guy ignored me during lunch, mom and dad won't let me go to so-and-so's party, and what are these mini volcano's doing erupting on my face?! But back then we just rolled with it. We poured ourselves in the radio, the music of our lives. We related to everything morrisey and rob smith had to say to us. We felt like they knew what we're going through. We felt like they alone knew our pain. We kept ourselves in our rooms and we blasted the music loud and we directed little videos in our head about how we envisioned our lives should it should be. Those were the pure, depressing, wallowing days when the only outlet was creativity. I tried to show and release our pain through creativity. Be it writing, painting, or whatever else we were into. And somewhere along the way (for some of us) that release turned into something else. Rather than create, we started to numb ourselves with whatever we can. But somehow, that pain lingers and never goes away. In fact, they come back ten folds, and this time, they're here to stay.

I long for those simple days, where the worst thing that's happening that week is why so-and-so ignored me, and why my parents won't let me use the car. Remember saying "life is so unfair" back then? Doesn't it seem so riciculous now? Yeah, kid, you have NO IDEA.

The funny thing is my 25 year old assistant is sorta facing the same things - even now. Every monday I have to hear about how she (or her friends) hooked up with someone and now the guy won't call them back (and so on and so forth...)

Just give them couple more years - then they'll know the real meaning of pain.

I know this seems like a depressing rant but it's not. In fact, it's the prelude - it's the beginning of something that's going to be bigger than that.

I'm tired of hiding behind laziness and inertia. I'm tired of getting drunk just for the sake of numbing myself til tomorrow. I'm tired of staying up til 5am just because I don't want to face tomorrw.

All my life I've been comparing myself to prince Hal. But slowly I'm turning into more Falstaff than Henry the Fifth. And that's a sad thing. The good thing is that 1)Hal didn't achieve mvp status til well into his late twenties, 2)I've realized it's silly to compare myself to a shakepearian hero. Hell, Hamlet's more fun to emulate than Hal.

But then again,

I digress.