My cup runneth over. My mind is full. Full of love and hate and resentments and dwellings. In fact, with regard to life I seem to dwell on it rather than in it. I sit in it and stew trapped by the confines I thought would protect me. All these walls have stolen my liberty. Unlike Mr. Dantes, I have imprisoned my self. I am Edmond and Fernand. I have betrayed my self and seek vengance. What a crazy drama queen. I also have to remind myself that my "cup" is also full of love and friends and food and safe living accomodations and a job and on and on and on.
I've created this blog to serve as an outlet for my dam mind. I'm tired. I'm exhausted in fact. Trying to build up my walls and protect myself from God knows what. Somewhere along the way my fear has been quietly and subtly growing more powerful. Its latest trick ( which I'm starting to catch on to, I think) is to disguise itself as romance and dramatic beauty. I must be tortured to create good art, yes? I used to ink "Carpe Diem" as a hope that seeing those words would light a spark within me. Now I scrawl "MEMENTO MORI" as a morbid reminder of my mortality. I'd like to strike a balance here.
This blog is going to explore this chapter in my life. The synopsis would read loosely, "Conflicted young man moves to Hollywood in pursuit of fame, fortune, and maybe happiness if he can figure out how to get that too." I don't know what the hell I want. I think I want to be happy. I also simultaneously worry that I'll get to the end and look back and say "Shit...I wish I'd realized my dreams.." I can't help but wonder. As much as I try to stay in the moment, I wander.
For someone of my make-up, its a wonder why I've decided to pursue in a career in a town where I'll be judged ruthlessly ( most of the time for superficial reasons.) will I survive? Will I grow stronger? It reminds me of when I lived in New York. When I left the city after a while, I realized I had become an asshole, to some degree. I'd learned how to stomp down the street in my boots, blinders on, focused and fortified. I did this to survive. Don't show a smile for fear it will be slapped right off your face. I went back a while later to visit and did an experiment. I wondered what would happen if I went the opposite route. I walked around beaming and attempted to strike up conversations with customer service. To my surprise all of these "cold assholes" weren't so evil afterall. (granted some were) They, too, had put on the frown of indifference for protection. A warm smile was the key.
So what are my dreams? What are the value of my dreams? Why do I actually want what I think I want? Do I really want it? Will it all matter in the grand scheme of things? Probably not. But if its all relative how do I make the most of it without becoming consumed by the grandeaur of it? Where do I go from here? What Would Ozymandias Have Done if he had known what would become of his achievements in the big picture?
So this has been my first rambling. Welcome.
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