I'm needing a release. I feel like I need to go somewhere very noisy. It's the weather. It always controls a part of me. And it's gone from warm and sunny to wet and cold and dark in a few days.
Retrospect. Identity. Representation.
Those are the three words I am obsessed by. Controlled by. Interested in....
I find it sickening and revolting how the entire purpose of western, capitalist society seems to be self-image, self-importance, selfishness, shallowness and materialism. How people, all people, are so horribly self-obsessed and self-indulgent. Myself included, of course. That's why I find the concept of "Blogging" difficult.
I, I, I, I, I.
Reflection and introspection are essential for growth and maturation. Of course. But when does that cross into the shallow and pretentious. I find it difficult to experience something I enjoy and feel influenced by without wanting to divulgate and publicise it. Hence my "tweeting" and "facebooking" tends to be little more than a stream of musical influences and references. Whatever is moving me and hurting me at any given moment. I don't want to be controlled by earth and it's sins/desires/failures. I don't intend to live being puerile, affected and artificial.
I feel a tug. An urge. I feel torn.
Maybe between creativity and capitalism. Between working, making money, being professionally successful and creating, dreaming and expressing myself. Expression. I have always found an outlet of sorts in words. I can't draw, I don't sing, I can't play cello well enough(nor do I have my cello to improve) to find playing cathartic. So I write, to avoid intellectual and creative death. And to compound and confirm my academic defection. I don't wish to spend any more time in academia. 5 years is long enough for me.
The idea should be to have the economic means to support learning and creative exploration. Take classes, meet people, travel, learn, grow and develop. And financial and professional success should not exclude creativity and artistic development. To get back to the point. My problem with "blogging" is that I find blogs interesting when they are specific; portuguese cookery, english person in lisbon, buying a home in argentina, freelance translator commenting on the industry etc. These blogs attract a specific readership and provide information/entertainment/solace for a particular group of people. I want to use this as a diary/journal/dumping ground/means of expressing and recording everything, anything and nothing. As I did before. And I liked it. It gave me a path to follow. A way to trace my evolution. My changing life. My developing mind. My everything. Living, growing and changing. And for whatever reason I need to reassure myself that I am always going forward, always evolving and never stagnating, never sitting still and never forgetting where i've been and where i'm going. Who I am and why. Or something like that. I admire people who can live in the moment. I rarely can.
Light-hearted is not me. Not never. Not today. I really admire Regina Spektor(back to the references-they keep me anchored) for combining humour, light-heartedness and playfullness with incredible depth and intelligence. It just melts me. And my dilemma is my personal expression. Which is stifled and confused. I heard Polly Harvey talk once in an interview about how any form of art or creative self-expression we make is added to an overflowing pot. Is it needed? Is it relevant? Who cares?
I wrote a diary. I wrote poems. And I repeatedly felt better for doing so and also received messages of solidarity, support and even admiration over the years. But I find it difficult. To balance privacy/public format. Paper diary on desk isn't realistic. Blog is entirely public so I can't be completely honest.
Access. Distance. Privacy. Public. Persona.
Blah.
oh to be at the bottom of a river,
below the dark water, the devil all around
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