(no subject)
I can't help but think how fake and contrived my efforts to express myself truly are. Everytime I write, the first thought in my head is not, "What amd I feeling?" but rather, "Could this be a book, an op-ed column...source material for a biopic?" Which leaves me with this pain of unoriginality and discontent.
The point is I don't feel fulfilled with what I have written unless I can flirt with the idea of having numerous loyal fans grasping onto my every word. Sometimes I fantasize about being rich and famous just because of my perspective of the world. I imagine having a segment on some highly-rated news program where I get to just vent my cynicism for the world with a pop-culturally-in-tune sense of wit. An edgier Andy Rooney.
The reason I know this is a problem is because I sometimes fantasize beyond the glamour of such a life. I imagine sitting at home at my desk hating who I've become. I become nostalgic for a time when I was willing to take chances and could relate to my true fans. I'd do anything to go back to those days.
Conveniently enough, I can. The sad part though is when I do come back to my reality, I realize that it's 2 in the morning and I'm posting my thoughts on some online blogger site for a fanbase that currently consists of 3 guys from high school and a girl who just posted pictures from her toga themed barge party on the lake.
And this is where I begin my ramblings on a canvas of utterly lost hopes and dreams.
The point is I don't feel fulfilled with what I have written unless I can flirt with the idea of having numerous loyal fans grasping onto my every word. Sometimes I fantasize about being rich and famous just because of my perspective of the world. I imagine having a segment on some highly-rated news program where I get to just vent my cynicism for the world with a pop-culturally-in-tune sense of wit. An edgier Andy Rooney.
The reason I know this is a problem is because I sometimes fantasize beyond the glamour of such a life. I imagine sitting at home at my desk hating who I've become. I become nostalgic for a time when I was willing to take chances and could relate to my true fans. I'd do anything to go back to those days.
Conveniently enough, I can. The sad part though is when I do come back to my reality, I realize that it's 2 in the morning and I'm posting my thoughts on some online blogger site for a fanbase that currently consists of 3 guys from high school and a girl who just posted pictures from her toga themed barge party on the lake.
And this is where I begin my ramblings on a canvas of utterly lost hopes and dreams.