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... where my muse goes for 2023 ... |
| ... here is where my muse goes for 2023 ... |
| Today I will have arrived a little bit early, so in order to fill the extra time before I have to go somewhere, I am currently trying to decide what I should do with it. Although I am able to read, I find that writing is the activity that I enjoy doing more. Even if it makes no sense at all. Everyone in this world has a finite amount of time, but when one is able to anticipate their needs and make appropriate preparations, they should have a sufficient amount of time. At least, that's all I can get my hands on right now. The experience of staring at a blank page is nerve-wracking for the majority of people. It's not like staring at a blank wall for hours on end. For some reason, staring at a blank wall all day always seems to have a calming effect on me, but staring at a blank sheet of paper can sometimes drive me completely insane. It does not make a difference to me whether I am drawing or writing. When I was a baby and toddler, I used to spend a lot of time staring at the wall. Whenever I wake up in the morning is when it happens most frequently. It must be the chemicals in my brain that have not been able to adapt to whatever it is that they are doing to me. To this day, I can't say for sure what got me going back then, but if I needed something to get me going now, a cup of coffee with caffeine in it would do the trick just fine. Blank spaces, such as those on a page or a wall, don't bother me as much as they used to. There is a possibility that you are under the impression that I would create something out of nothing. I cannot comment on what is happening with other people. That is what I believe it has the potential to do for me each and every time the sun rises on a brand new day. Now, I know. I am conscious of the presence of something, but what is it? |
| This is a writing pen, if you were wondering, and my mind has the hankering to contemplate something. In fact, that's the kind of behavior you should expect it to show in that situation, so it shouldn't come as a surprise when it does. It raises the question of who exactly is responsible for the writing. I have a pen in my hand; is it the pen itself or is it my brain that is causing my hand to communicate with the pen? Even though I haven't been actively writing for quite some time now, whenever I pick up a pen and start to write, I find that the words just keep coming, like a broken pipe spilling out water. Because I don't really need to give a damn about what I'm meant to write and because my pen prefers it that way, I won't worry about it. If my pen were alive, I don't think it would want to be kept in its case, but if it were, I think it would be satisfied with its situation. Free in the sense that it is expressed in these words right now. Whoever doesn't value personal autonomy is someone I just don't understand. That is an incredibly foolish thing to do. The elderly woman admired the leader who had provided her with the inexpensive meal as she sat there. During those troubling and uncertain times, she regarded him as a kind of savior. How in the world could she be so oblivious if she wants freedom for everyone? He, as her leader, was the one who caused her suffering, and he was also the one who ultimately ended up being her savior. She would have been independent and free from the influence of a cultist environment. Their cult leader has herded them like a bunch of lost sheep. She could have had a richer life for herself if she had been free. I did, ever since I was young. |
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