"That certain part of the male body"

It's four a.m. and I'm laying across the couch in the living room with my computer propped up on my right leg and my USB mouse sitting on my stomach with the red light of the scroll wheel flashing at me like a warning. Jeremy is laying on the couch asleep, snoring loudly every few minutes. He has an exam in four hours. I feel bad for him.

On the TV is some plastic woman with a disfigured nose telling me about "that certain part of the male body." Nothing good is on TV at 4 a.m.

I need a break. I need to get my creative juices flowing again. I've felt the itch, but lacked the inspiration. I have ideas and the desire to create, but not the time or the energy. Those two lines were contradictory...but not really.

"A weeks supply, for the cost of a postage stamp."

I'm reading amazing books, watching amazing movies and listening to amazing music. It makes my creative exploits seem futile. How can I compare to these works of art? This is what I want to do, if not with my life, then with my spare time, and I can't even fathom where their ideas come from or how anything I create can be put on the same level.

"Can a guy be too big?"

I've started playing guitar more. I'm trying to write more (this being the first attempt in a few weeks). I'm reading voraciously, watching around 3 movies per week and filling my 30 GB iPod to capacity. I like to think of it as job training.

"Things become bigger..."

I found some of my old notebooks and journals yesterday. I sat down and read them. One of them was from high school: my teen angst, Dashboard Confessional days. I was embarrassed to recognize my own hand writing. The pointless poems, aimless rants and trite themes of my writing were appalling. Everyone was out to get me. Society was out to get me. The trials and tribulations of Suburbia.

"Maybe an inch...a little more."

As much as I love college, I sometimes think that I'm wasting my time. I feel like I could do in life without being here. But now we all need that degree. Without that, you're nothing. Spend money to make money...sometimes less. I just want my writing to matter. That's the goal, the big picture: make people listen, even if they don't want to. Love it, hate it, but don't be indifferent. If readers are indifferent about my writing, I feel like I have failed.

It's 4:30 a.m. Now I can start my own home business....


peace
C