Problematic

Spring break is officially in full swing because I am incredibly hungover. I should not pour my own drinks. Before making my way to Houston last night I did something I have not done since the beginning of this blog; partially out of fear, partially out of laziness. I finally read a few of my posts and, beyond the fact that they were slightly more coherent than I expected, I realized I had unintentionally been capturing a glimpse at my increasing depression. I had assumed I was getting better: writing is supposed to be cathartic, after all. I guess that is an interesting, if not over-done, twist. It's becoming common for the protagonist to realize, shortly after the audience, that they have a bigger problem than they were willing to admit. I suppose, once again, I am following the trend. This brings me to a few soap-boxes. Aside from coming to terms with my current state of mind, I have also taken stock of my niche in the running narratives of life. Everyone has a s...

I envy people with focus. I was reading recently about innovation and how Einstein considered creativity to be like juggling concepts and true unique thought occurred when two balls that were of the greatest distance collided. I like this imagery- I like the idea of sparks in the collision. I fear that none of my balls ever touch each other. (Insert ultra-juvenile joke about balls touching.) But honestly, the more original voices I find the less my own voice sounds original. Perhaps it is rose tinted perception- we're all equally original. Everyone is interesting and worth a story even in their own mundane way. However, I'd be happier if I felt not as particularly mundane. I also like the idea of thoughts as juggling balls because it would explain my resistance to completing things. The juggling never stops. It's tiring. A break when two balls hit would be a welcome change of pace. Better than to keep the eye constantly spinning as it tracks the balls. I wish balls were...