June 6, 2010
Ray
June 3, 2010
June 2, 2010
I think a lot about life consists of throwing your weight into something, or even someone. Throwing all of your weight into that something, burrowing deep within it, investing your limited emotional resources, all of you. Sometimes really beautiful things can arise, whether on purpose or purely incidental, when that something and you just click and everything feels right and you feel so, so good as a result. And with time and repetition, sometimes hobbies eventually form. I say all this because I feel like I've been hobby-less for a while, and it's only just now beginning to dawn on me.
In truth, I've been burying myself in other activities that definitely don't fall in the aforementioned "hobby" category, namely drinking and smoking and all sorts of debauchery and merriment. It's been fun, and in a lot of strange ways, refreshing as well. Sometimes it's nice to just close your eyes and hide your face. Averting, avoiding. But at the end of the day, when I stumble into bed at night, I'm not fulfilled and I am far from satiated. I need more than this. I need to produce beauty, make something extraordinary and feel extra ordinary in the process. These days, I am nothing. I offer nothing to the world and the recognition of this fact is incredibly frustrating. Not to mention disappointing.
I'm trying to remember when I used to do things that I inherently enjoyed, that did my mind and body good, because nowadays both are becoming increasingly restless. My intellect is slowly atrophying and my physical self is just plain bored. I think I'm finally ready to explore new hobbies and maybe revisit some long standing old ones as well. The hardest step right now, though, is picking myself (all of the scattered pieces) up off the floor in order to do so.