“I used to write… I used to write letters; I used to sign my name… ” – Arcade Fire
I remember when writing used to come so easy to me. Funny how things just seem to come full circle. Here I am again, wondering why I can’t write like I used to. This was six years ago. While writing the following uninspired blog post, I didn’t know I would move to Miami later that year. I start to think that perhaps this general dissatisfaction was a catalyst for my move — craving some type of change; new experiences to shake up my spirit; to inspire me once again. I find I write best when I’m feeling and really living (not just the fun stuff.) Perhaps, I’m not as impulsive as I seem…
Tanto da la gota en la piedra, hasta que hace un hoyo. – Refran (Loosely translated: So much did the drop hit upon the rock, until it finally made a hole. – Spanish Saying)
September 1st, 2005
I sometimes don’t recognize myself. I used to write. I look at myself now and I’m practically illiterate in comparison. Where did it go? Life seemed so simple then… Pen and paintbrush in hand. No more ink stains and traces of polychromatic acrylic to adorn me. My hands are empty now. Save for the occasional brush of the plastic keyboard that bares a Public Health Advisory on the bottom. Promising… (Note: Sarcasm)
I wonder, is it my talent that has gone?
Or is it my inspiration?