Blog? What's that? 10:06 PM

I couldn't call myself a blogger, not with the inconsistent way I update. Meh.
But as for updating you on events in my life: I visited Montreal last week, and yes it was awesome, and yes I partied, and no I wasn't my usual dramatically drunk self. We'll try for next time. School's in and that's taking up most of my time (never really saw myself going back, but hey, everything changes). I'm still trying to get back into writing and I think school is helping in that regard; being as I'm obligated to turn in essays and suchlike. It gets my creative juices flowing and that spills on to my personal projects (and then we have a mess).
I'm currently attempting (you suck, Eman, just finish already) to write a short story and then there's my ultra-secret project (which also sucks, fuck-you-very-much for stringing your readers? along) which is a concept I'm still trying to polish.
I wish I had pictures of Montreal to distract you.

Look, a kitteh!
Alright, I'm done. Go away? Come back next time?

I shouldn't have read through the archive. What the fuck was I going to learn anyway? That I used to be happy? That life was simpler back when I didn't want to know, back when it didn't matter, because I didn't care.
What am I going to find? Most importantly, what am I looking for? Was I really a better person, before? I place so much value on time and how it matures you, but what did I discard in the quest for knowledge, what innocence did I scoff at and abandon? When did I stop writing, when did I start giving a fuck about who, what, when, where, how? When did I become my biggest enemy; a cruel editor and censor?
I hate having to look back and ask these questions, to travel down memory lane with waning ghosts whispering in my ear; gently tugging at me. I can't look them in the eye. There is guilt reflected in their suspended faces. I'm torn between my desire for solitude and my need for somebody, anybody, to look deep inside and understand. And then, stay.
The years have passed, and I'm not better. I must accept this. I'm not a role model, I'm not Emanuel the Saint. I'm angry and disillusioned, steeped in my cynicism and swallowed by my solitude. A shaky grasp on faith is all I have.
Because of this, in spite of this, I must carry on. There is no choice. So I run, I run on a little grey road.

Where the heart is 2:12 AM

It’s tough on me to be so far away from you. It’s easier not to think about it, however; it’s an inescapable thought when I pause for a moment of quiet meditation. I miss your smiles, the ready laughs, and the sense of belonging when I’m with you. It’s a comfort to know that in a world such as this, I have a place to call home.

Andale! 12:52 AM

I'm too busy scribbling in my notebook to update. I've rediscovered the joy of notebooks and Sanford Uniball Micro pens. It's oddly quaint; a pressure-free experience of cathartic phrases and esoteric quotes that take me back to a simpler time. I find it refreshing.

who wouldn't want to live here
"you might lose yourself" they said
i had hoped
for worse

Writing Notebook 7:41 PM

I'm adding a "Scraps" label to the list of labels here. This'll be a chance to get some scraps of writing I've done recently off my notebook and onto this site. Hopefully this will increase the posting on this god-forsaken corner.

Really? 1:12 AM

I was going to write something here. But then I didn't.

P.S. I just realized that the comment section is quite well hidden. It's that little number up there, next to the date. Just sayin'.

Re-education Through Emotional Stimuli 12:25 AM

I have a lot of hope for this new year. Two thousand and ten. I keep telling myself it's time to get back on the saddle, grab the reins of my creative endeavors, and ride into the sunset of personal fullfilment. Truth is, I not only lack inspiration, I lack that wonderful little thing that made me want to write in the first place.

No, friends, not egotism. Heart. I'm a far-cry from the kid that stayed up late into the night; listening to soulful ballads and producing poignant little insights into his fractured psyche. If this sounds a bit sarcastic, that's because it is.

This year should bring a collection of poignant little insights, satirical pieces, funny stuff, and uh, me. If this works, heck yeah, if not, there's another failed New Year's resolution.

Yehaw!