A Flood Without Rain

Thursday, October 27, 2005

I spend more time thinking about writing than I do actually doing it. Like right now. I'm thinking about writing but only writing about thinking about writing.

I get to thinking about writing because I want to figure something out. I want to wipe the fog off the mirror and look at myself with some clarity. Hoping that putting words into sentences will somehow unearth the secret to why I can't sleep or concentrate or seem to get ahold of myself. It's usually one of those three.

I seek to be cultured, but what does that really mean? I watch movies, I read books, I see plays, I visit art galleries. But often I leave with nothing more than the dim satisfaction of being able to say I experienced something supposedly enlightened or intelligent or original.

Maybe that's what drives people to create. Perhaps that's where the answers are. But maybe there aren't any answers, just more questions. Or maybe that's a cop out, an excuse to stop short.