Thursday, September 9, 2010


I want to love everything I want to love intensely, so they can all seamlessly weave into
the fiber of my being. I want to know things inside out. I want to be able to talk about
them with depth. I want to be able to not just be awash with enthusiasm, but radiate it. I
want things to come naturally and honestly. I want to find and use the right words all the
time. I want, I want, I want. I want to live with intensity.

The daily grind makes me want to implode. So much of my energies are given elsewhere,
leaving only scraps for my self. I often find that I'm on autopilot, and this shouldn't be
the case. The awareness of this is both refreshing and scary. I remember conversations I
had with old friends. We thought that "artists" live more and therefore have heightened
feelings. Those who are considered plebians (yes, this is a reference joke) supposedly feel
much less. Therefore, this second group is the happier one. "Artists," then, are doomed to
eternal despair.

I now find that this is inaccurate. There is no point in labeling people as "artists"
or "plebians" Some people simply have different priorities. (Continue entry)***

(September 4, 2010)


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