Imagine the day you stumble upon something that will make you love humanity.
I took the preceding from the comments on a YouTube video. The first is not all that important. Sure, I can relate to it...I feel like most days I'm actually seeking out the filth of the internet so that I might further my hatred for the world. Not even the filth. Sometimes the most beige, innocuous blog entry is enough to infuriate me just because of how completely dull people actually dare to be.
I took the preceding from the comments on a YouTube video. The first is not all that important. Sure, I can relate to it...I feel like most days I'm actually seeking out the filth of the internet so that I might further my hatred for the world. Not even the filth. Sometimes the most beige, innocuous blog entry is enough to infuriate me just because of how completely dull people actually dare to be.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I sat down and started writing all that about a week ago. I logged in a couple times on separate days to edit and adjust, but each time left me bored and uninspired. Which is somewhat ironic since the post was going to end up being about inspiration. I'm pretty sure I wrote a blog last summer about inspiration and how powerful it is. I probably waxed poetic on the way it comes over you and surges through your veins like when the surf pounds against cliffs in dramatic movies starring iconic blonde women. Ya, that kind of shit.
I can't be bothered to actually go back and find that entry, so I'll just keep making assumptions about it. I probably fawned over how long that "I just need to create" sensation hangs around you neck like a little boy with Polio. (Yes, most people would say a chain or something of the sort. A chain is too heavy for this capacity though. The weight of inspiration in like when you have just enough blankets during a not-particularly-cold night. They aren't so much keeping you warm as much as they're just keeping you safe with their presence.) I would have regaled you with my pontifications that the weight of inspiration isn't violent. That it's less like a punch and more like a firm massaging sensation.
But lately it seems so fleeting. A friend of mine questioned my constant reference to inspiration in the past tense. "I was inspired." "It was an inspiration." I explained to her:
I sat down and started writing all that about a week ago. I logged in a couple times on separate days to edit and adjust, but each time left me bored and uninspired. Which is somewhat ironic since the post was going to end up being about inspiration. I'm pretty sure I wrote a blog last summer about inspiration and how powerful it is. I probably waxed poetic on the way it comes over you and surges through your veins like when the surf pounds against cliffs in dramatic movies starring iconic blonde women. Ya, that kind of shit.
I can't be bothered to actually go back and find that entry, so I'll just keep making assumptions about it. I probably fawned over how long that "I just need to create" sensation hangs around you neck like a little boy with Polio. (Yes, most people would say a chain or something of the sort. A chain is too heavy for this capacity though. The weight of inspiration in like when you have just enough blankets during a not-particularly-cold night. They aren't so much keeping you warm as much as they're just keeping you safe with their presence.) I would have regaled you with my pontifications that the weight of inspiration isn't violent. That it's less like a punch and more like a firm massaging sensation.
But lately it seems so fleeting. A friend of mine questioned my constant reference to inspiration in the past tense. "I was inspired." "It was an inspiration." I explained to her:
To be inspired isn't to be pushed along like the first time you ride a bicycle. It's like being pushed off a cliff.
You get the spark you need and the rest is freefalling.
You gain momentum because that's the only option you have.
Bit of a change in perspective after a year. It was a rather impressive thing to say, though, wasn't it? In fact, when I sat down to write this, I pasted that quote into the bottom of the text box to eventually work into the entry. There's a good chance I finally sat down and committed to finishing this just so that I could shove my philosophizing in your faces.
The truth is that I want to be inspired. As much as it really is a punch in the gut, that freefall is quite spectacular. I wrote a poem last month copying the style of John Donne's "The Good Morrow" and I'm very proud of it. I think it's beautiful and impressive and the people I've let read it echo my sentiments. The poem itself is about inspiration and I think I was inspired when I wrote it. The romantic artist in me is obsessed with the idea of a muse and finding one's own voice within the soul of another, etc.
You get the spark you need and the rest is freefalling.
You gain momentum because that's the only option you have.
Bit of a change in perspective after a year. It was a rather impressive thing to say, though, wasn't it? In fact, when I sat down to write this, I pasted that quote into the bottom of the text box to eventually work into the entry. There's a good chance I finally sat down and committed to finishing this just so that I could shove my philosophizing in your faces.
The truth is that I want to be inspired. As much as it really is a punch in the gut, that freefall is quite spectacular. I wrote a poem last month copying the style of John Donne's "The Good Morrow" and I'm very proud of it. I think it's beautiful and impressive and the people I've let read it echo my sentiments. The poem itself is about inspiration and I think I was inspired when I wrote it. The romantic artist in me is obsessed with the idea of a muse and finding one's own voice within the soul of another, etc.
I've lost my point completely. Once again, the comments on that YouTube video made me think about how easy it is to look around and feel contempt for everything around me. I was about to say 'around us' but maybe you're not as much of a miserable grouch as I am. Either way, the notion that there's something out there that might make me fall in love with the world was refreshing. It still is. Not enough to inspire my ass to work on writing something for more than 5 minutes, but at least there's a bit of a spark. It was kind of like a plenty-of-fish pep talk without the cliches and subtle references to my loneliness. I hate to admit it in these words, but it gave me hope.
Here's hoping,
-Sad Blogger
