moment of conscience
I just had a moment somehow brought on by reading couch surfing weekly updates.
I pulled out of my mac powerbook G4 screen and looked over at my bohemian looking tapestry hanging from high ceiling to floor covering a closet overstuffed with clothing. then i took a quick look around my wrought iron pier one bed and my luxurious looking bed spread, fixated momentarily on various fine home furnishings and thought for a bit about where i fit in. i am incredibly comfortable right now, and i never think about how good i have it. I don't really like that. I've got a guitar and a bass chillin' out in the corner and neither have been getting much love lately.
It's unbelievable how I avoid the things that give me the most joy in favor of a lot of noise that I can't seem to figure out how to turn down.
I think I'm dedicated to some things, but what do I really stand for?
I'm real comfortable, and I've been frustrated a lot lately with things that don't matter much. More noise.
I'm trying to fathom that my parents worked hard when they brought me into this world to make it easy for me so that I didn't have to see or feel financial struggle, and I didn't. I have it good, but do I understand what it's all worth? It's useless to get caught up in paying for the past, and my parents haven't put too much pressure on me to prove myself by getting a career and whatnot, but I feel like I've been passed a torch here and I don't know what to do with it.
...I guess that's not entirely true. I don't have to think much further than what my mother has told me about what she would have done if she could go back and change it all, the enjoyment my father gets from working and enjoying the swank lifestyle he's earned, the excitement i hear in my grandpa's voice when we talk about traveling, and my own fulfillment from making music, even if I do feel frustrated by the challenge of writing.
I feel like I don't deserve it sometimes, still. I didn't have to pull myself up on my own two feet. It's an easy way to build your solidarity if you've never lived the sweet life. It's a weird thing I think that happens to many wealthy kids if and when we get past the materialism that tends to cloud our view. Our parents give up so much, and we are left wondering what it's like to be at the bottom.
I feel some kind of an obligation to move up, but I don't have much solid motivation to. I'm already here.
I know materialism isn't the stuff dreams are made of.
Let's blow the whole thing wide open.
The system I'm looking to play with my degree can send me in the direction of fortune, possible fame, a sense of accomplishment and a funny place as a participant in other people's art.
Is that what I want to be about? I'm floating here and I can't seem to figure out why.
I read junkie by William Burroughs a while back and he said an interesting thing in the introduction. I can't exactly quote but it was something along the lines of since his family had taken care of him financially forever, he never had to worry about money or truly be part of that whole system until he got into heroin.
i'm too tired to keep writing. it's okay to be unfinished sometimes.
I pulled out of my mac powerbook G4 screen and looked over at my bohemian looking tapestry hanging from high ceiling to floor covering a closet overstuffed with clothing. then i took a quick look around my wrought iron pier one bed and my luxurious looking bed spread, fixated momentarily on various fine home furnishings and thought for a bit about where i fit in. i am incredibly comfortable right now, and i never think about how good i have it. I don't really like that. I've got a guitar and a bass chillin' out in the corner and neither have been getting much love lately.
It's unbelievable how I avoid the things that give me the most joy in favor of a lot of noise that I can't seem to figure out how to turn down.
I think I'm dedicated to some things, but what do I really stand for?
I'm real comfortable, and I've been frustrated a lot lately with things that don't matter much. More noise.
I'm trying to fathom that my parents worked hard when they brought me into this world to make it easy for me so that I didn't have to see or feel financial struggle, and I didn't. I have it good, but do I understand what it's all worth? It's useless to get caught up in paying for the past, and my parents haven't put too much pressure on me to prove myself by getting a career and whatnot, but I feel like I've been passed a torch here and I don't know what to do with it.
...I guess that's not entirely true. I don't have to think much further than what my mother has told me about what she would have done if she could go back and change it all, the enjoyment my father gets from working and enjoying the swank lifestyle he's earned, the excitement i hear in my grandpa's voice when we talk about traveling, and my own fulfillment from making music, even if I do feel frustrated by the challenge of writing.
I feel like I don't deserve it sometimes, still. I didn't have to pull myself up on my own two feet. It's an easy way to build your solidarity if you've never lived the sweet life. It's a weird thing I think that happens to many wealthy kids if and when we get past the materialism that tends to cloud our view. Our parents give up so much, and we are left wondering what it's like to be at the bottom.
I feel some kind of an obligation to move up, but I don't have much solid motivation to. I'm already here.
I know materialism isn't the stuff dreams are made of.
Let's blow the whole thing wide open.
The system I'm looking to play with my degree can send me in the direction of fortune, possible fame, a sense of accomplishment and a funny place as a participant in other people's art.
Is that what I want to be about? I'm floating here and I can't seem to figure out why.
I read junkie by William Burroughs a while back and he said an interesting thing in the introduction. I can't exactly quote but it was something along the lines of since his family had taken care of him financially forever, he never had to worry about money or truly be part of that whole system until he got into heroin.
i'm too tired to keep writing. it's okay to be unfinished sometimes.