Klaproth's hungry maw surged from beneath the sands, gaping wide as a sea of fire as his bladed toad-tongue snapped away yet another one of my creations.
I was
frustated at first.
No, frustated is the wrong word. All wrong.
I was fucking pissed.
No.
I was... mad at myself because I thought I could do better than provide filler and things upon which to sharpen teeth.
But, my real problem was that I didn't read the sign that said "Tuck your pride in your coat pocket and leave both at the door."
I should've. It would've saved me some grief. But I suppose I'm starting to get
it now. Only through struggle can we become better, right?
I want to write
action somehow...but I lack the ability. In my opinion there is very little good action writing out there. Too much of it seems to be all fake breasts and chosen one's. But the good stuff
is out there, the only problem lies in the fact that I'm neither a
plagiarist nor a
mime. I have a wicked originality streak that comes from doing a lot of
art throughout my life. And I don't mean "I am already so unlike everyone else" type streak, that's not a trait I posess, but I really have to be something different and something from deep inside of myself. I don't know what it is. I can't put my finger on it. Hell, I couldn't put
England on it if I wanted to, it's that unkown to me.
"It's over...here. No, here. Wait..."
And in the meantime everything is going by. Time is passing.
Continents are shifting, empires are falling.
And here I am floating through space without form because I haven't found me. However, I have found that I have these dreams, these great great dreams. But all these dreams were recorded on an
Etch-A-Sketch that my ego is using as a soccer ball.
Every golem wants to be made of diamonds, right? Wants to shine, wants to be the brightest.
I don't know, it seems to me that people see obstacles as so commonplace, so everyday, so lunch hour and paperwork that they've lost their flare. They've lost their power. They've lost that possibility that they might be insurmountable. Obstacles no longer
dazzle or
inspire.
I did this!
Oh, everyone does that. Keep it down, I'm busy.
I read a statistic today that people live their communicable lives in 85% negativity. They talk about the bad stuff on the news, who's at war, what's wrong with the world, who is in trouble with who, etc. And my friend really freaked out about this and went on a rant about how terrible that was and how we need to count our blessings and I told him that all he was doing was proving the point.
I don't think we communicate eighty-five percent negatively because we are evil or anything. I think we communicate eighty-five percent negatively because it's in our nature to fix things, and it's in our nature to lose hope. I don't think we'll ever fix this planet, not unless we all leave it and let it do it's own thing for a million years and come back completely balanced and enlightened and decide that goddamnit, we're going to do it right this time. That, goddamnit this planet deserves love and a people that will take care of it. That, goddamnit (insert inspiring resolution here)!
I really am lost though. Really.
But that's okay, I'm enjoying myself.