During my immense hiatus I told myself I would regularly write thoughts in a journal.
The hold technology has on the world is baffling.
I find written words incredibly beautiful, and yet cannot remember to partake in them.
Sadly my time on the computer is so great,
that blogging is the only outlet that will get used appropriately.
I suppose the journal can be there for distinct moments,
while living life in need of documentation.
My soul has missed letting loose.
I now give it the go ahead.
Today is one of those days I am a self-depricating artist without the talent.
In concordance with realizing just how meant to being a lawyer I really am.
My mother agrees.
There are many a time I wish I was a little more comfortable with gray areas,
but I have come to accept there are very few for me.
Needless the say, no matter how much I care about something or someone,
I get no comfort in the realms of 'limbo'.
I envy those who do it blissfully, with a sense of absolute peace,
As pure the vodka they drink.
I, no matter how boring it may be, thrive on a feeling of consistency.
When I consistently do and have something,
glory be in highest whoever you are.
Music is something I have a deep and brooding passion for.
So much so you would think my self-deprication came from a deserving place.
It doesn't.
After being pegged a 'music snob' this past week it dawned on me.
The black and white detriment strikes again.
If not of a certain genre with a certain level of musical talent,
I'm bored.
That is so fucked up for someone who is supposedly not judgmental and loves those who dream.
Fuck me and my opinions,
Live your truth whether I think you're talented or not.
What do I know?
Nothing.
