257.
(Let's pretend I've been updating this journal with some regularity, mmkay? Mmkay.)
Given how routine my life has become, I actually Googled "journal/blog prompts" yesterday. I found some sites that I bookmarked for later, but it boggles even me how boring I feel I am recently. I could complain about my job or fret about school, which are the two major happenings in my life right now. But who wants to fixate on the stress of grades or paying your bills on time?
I'm in a rut, I know that much. I've been in a rut for years now.
When I was in high school, I had a huge creative streak that couldn't be stopped or slowed down. I made inspiration collages, compiled playlists for every occasion, drew, wrote poetry. I wasn't content unless I was tearing a page out of a magazine, cutting it up and rearranging the pieces into a brand new picture; or diving into my makeup bag and coming up with looks I dubbed "Heaven's Harlequin" and "Lost Vixen of Neptune".
That can't be it, can it? That intense burst that sustained me for four years can be recaptured. Right?
I finally realized that it's a matter of my tastes changing, not a matter of that creative spark being snuffed out forever once I legally became an adult. You can't imagine the relief that brought me. I was always of the mind that you're only as artistic as you are young, and I held on to my youth for far longer than I should have. Growing into an adult was scary because, for me, it meant turning into a drone. Toiling faithfully in whatever career you chose until you dropped dead. Obviously I know now that's not so, but you'd be hard-pressed to convince my 15 year-old self otherwise. She always was a stubborn, idyllic thing.
Now that I've come to the earth-shattering conclusion that LIFE (LIFE!) doesn't end when you're old enough to buy cigarettes, one question remains: what? What do I do to fill that void?
Music is a good start. I've always wanted to learn how to play piano and try my hand at lyric writing. With performers like Iron & Wine, Travis and St. Vincent constantly floating around and invading my headspace with songs about love and regret it's hard to fight the itch to put my own experiences to paper. This can bleed over into poetry, too, which suddenly has my interest piqued.
I think I'm onto something here.
Given how routine my life has become, I actually Googled "journal/blog prompts" yesterday. I found some sites that I bookmarked for later, but it boggles even me how boring I feel I am recently. I could complain about my job or fret about school, which are the two major happenings in my life right now. But who wants to fixate on the stress of grades or paying your bills on time?
I'm in a rut, I know that much. I've been in a rut for years now.
When I was in high school, I had a huge creative streak that couldn't be stopped or slowed down. I made inspiration collages, compiled playlists for every occasion, drew, wrote poetry. I wasn't content unless I was tearing a page out of a magazine, cutting it up and rearranging the pieces into a brand new picture; or diving into my makeup bag and coming up with looks I dubbed "Heaven's Harlequin" and "Lost Vixen of Neptune".
That can't be it, can it? That intense burst that sustained me for four years can be recaptured. Right?
I finally realized that it's a matter of my tastes changing, not a matter of that creative spark being snuffed out forever once I legally became an adult. You can't imagine the relief that brought me. I was always of the mind that you're only as artistic as you are young, and I held on to my youth for far longer than I should have. Growing into an adult was scary because, for me, it meant turning into a drone. Toiling faithfully in whatever career you chose until you dropped dead. Obviously I know now that's not so, but you'd be hard-pressed to convince my 15 year-old self otherwise. She always was a stubborn, idyllic thing.
Now that I've come to the earth-shattering conclusion that LIFE (LIFE!) doesn't end when you're old enough to buy cigarettes, one question remains: what? What do I do to fill that void?
Music is a good start. I've always wanted to learn how to play piano and try my hand at lyric writing. With performers like Iron & Wine, Travis and St. Vincent constantly floating around and invading my headspace with songs about love and regret it's hard to fight the itch to put my own experiences to paper. This can bleed over into poetry, too, which suddenly has my interest piqued.
I think I'm onto something here.