I thought about writing today.

[flintlock]

The result was immediate indigestion and malingering nausea. No, this was no ambitious thought or mind toward my more lofty of projects-the endless worlds and journal after journal of unpublished world notes and character drabbles-nor was it guilt felt in the direction of my many, many unanswered tags. What crossed my mind during the subsequent

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[flintlock]

And that you satisfy that need for creation - contribution. Something tangible that you are able to share with friends and receive praise for from strangers. That's what I'm looking for, although in a different avenue and medium since I don't believe layout creation on LJ is really for me. After the personal webspace/blog era, where we made and created elaborate and complex websites out of artbook scans, I just find the LJ layout code to be too restricting. No less worthwhile, but just not for me.

I doubt I will ever give up the ghost of that glorious past. Even LJ was far more energetic and literate back then. Now it just feels enervated, like something came and sucked the soul right out of it. This is an old ramble, though, and not one that needs revisiting. An author I read made a good point about content on the internet, although more in the field of publishing seriously online. He said that it was akin to casting a message in a bottle adrift in a sea of apathy, hoping and praying that somebody would find your bottle and read the note. Hoping that person would find it at all relevant or interesting. Sheer futility.

This did help me put my thoughts together again, though. This is the longest I have written in five months. Already, I'm feeling that old drive return. My plan is to use it to fuel enough unpublished content to give me the familiar hunger for more, and the old convictions that all I needed when I wanted a pat on the back for all my efforts was a mirror.

Going to bed for now. Feel free to continue, but just know I'll reply after work tomorrow.