||[May. 7th, 2009|03:50 am]
I feel like being a writer there are so many topics in my head. Thoughts that I have always wanted to think more about. Express what I feel by writing it and getting a response.|
Maybe this is another way for me to deal with stress. Another way of unloading the burdens that keeps me up. Topics that come out of nowhere while watching TV, cooking, reading, just sitting or while in the bathroom they pop out.
If I could only make a living out of writing what’s on my head, I’d probably be rich. As long as there is someone to proof read it, there might be a slight chance. I am now even thinking of a pen name or maybe writing a non fiction book but very much based on the life that I have lived and living. But if I’m still living then it should not really be printed it should continually evolve so best solution would be put it online. Do I really want to remain anonymous probably not who doesn’t want fame and fortune but given that my delusion of me actually being read by a thousand or millions of readers online fascinates me. They always say that nothing wrong in dreaming.
Then again it’s not about me being anonymous but its about the people who live around my bubble that I am worried about. Assuming that people begin to read what I write and they personally know me, they would have an idea as to who I am talking about or figure out the experience that I just told everyone.
Everyone thinks of their lives as some what boring or simple. I hate using the word simple. Some may even think that their lives are worth being read about or shown on TV. I feel both most of the time. I think I even have the plots and twists that can last a telenovela script.
I am basically procrastinating. There are more important things to do, more practical, income generating things that I should concentrate on but what’s the point of doing them if these other thoughts are the ones that scream hey let me out first?
I know that I don’t have any creative outlet, I have accepted that fact. I can appreciate anything about art, movies and music, plays, museum, operas. I marvel at people who make a living out of the inherent talent that they have because I can never sing or dance or play an instrument or make a painting or sculpt, I can not even make a poem but I can write, I can express how I feel as bland and boring it may be to some.
As I am writing this, more topics are popping out. I can probably make my hands feel numb by typing everything down. The sane is part in me is saying stop it’s already 4am you are eating squidballs and kikiam, instant noodles with a lot of stuff you wouldn’t even think of putting in and melon milk. It’s time to be productive. Do some work and sleep. Hope that when sun rises and you had your short nap, problems would have solutions, it won’t be raining, it will be a sunny day, and you will stay positive and happy the whole day and the monsteR would be at peace for the meantime.