I can see the Shark, but I can't tell on which side of the Jump I'm on.
When I first started this journal I had some basic ideas of what I wanted to accomplish with it - that didn't really work out and things kind of took off in their own direction. At this point it's more of a vehicle to exorcise issues from my psyche. By physically typing them out and posting them in a relatively anonymous public domain I'm able to better see them for what they are and overcome them. The issues live here now, not in the back of my head. Though at the same time this is becoming far more of an exercise and less of a creative outlet. I find I'm having to force myself to work on these entries now, which might actually be a good thing since that also means I don't have as much crap in my head that I feel needs to be removed. On the other hand I don't know how much more content I've got to add to this journal, or how regular future updates will be. It's a weird situation, like scraping the bottom of the barrel, I can stop and wallow in the emptiness of that box, or I can keep clawing at the base and see if there's anything on the other side.
I'm not so foolish as to think any of my ramblings truly amount to anything of valued substance to anyone reading this, my words are the epitome of self-centered first world problems; but getting over your ego is a lot easier said (or typed) than done. This thread is really just another stepping stone to get over that mountain. At the same time I can't pretend as if no one has read this or been influenced by some of my words, whether directly or indirectly. I can't help how other people choose to interpret my thoughts and if they'll choose to recognize the context they're presented within.
Something else I've noticed is that the more I type into this thing the less inclined I am to post in the rest of the forum. It just doesn't seem to matter as much to me anymore (that and Borderlands 2 is super addictive). It's kind of like the way my approach with music has developed (or devolved) over the last few years. I still play some sort of musical instrument at least a few times a week but there's little to no honest desire to do anything besides just play with it. I might load up songsterr for a tab or two but I never take the time to truly learn what I'm reading rather than just fool around with the notes in the moment. It reminds me of an attitude a lot of the old school jazz cats had about recording music back in the 50s. A lot of them were apparently very resistant to the studio and what it represented since it limited their ability to improvise and allow the music to become something more than the sum of its parts. There's something about making a conscious attempt to create versus allowing for a subconscious event to happen that seems to limit or diminish the spark from within art.
From my perspective it was that conscious desire to force a successful artistic creation that caused me to develop with so many insecurities. While I'm now better able to recognize the probable causes that doesn't mean I necessarily want to accomplish the related goals. Kind of like how the dude in District 9 doesn't want to pull the trigger on the alien guns even though he knows he's the only one who can but not nearly as intense or consequential. If that spoiled a 3 year old film I'm sorry.
I'm not really sure what else to say anymore without just spinning my wheels over covered ground. This isn't necessarily the end but at the same time I don't really feel the need or desire to force regular updates. Unlike a work of fiction there's no master plan to wrap up all the thought lines into a neat and tidy denouement, just more reflection on the infinite space in my head.
And on that note, enjoy spacing out on this: