I haven't written in a long while. Irregardless of why, I feel like I have lost a step or two. I am attempting to make it as an artist, though my half-baked attempts at motivating myself to do anything these days are nothing short of pathetic. I want badly to adopt a behavioral pattern of simply accomplishing things without the emotional and mental wrestle that usually precedes them. So far that just means being a lot more short with people, and finding that I have more to wrestle with than ever, with no idea of what I'm even writhing under. Life is now one continuously shifting mass of un-made plans and half baked schemes that sometimes meet with me in the shadows. Mostly I feel a giant contemptous breath under my feet as though I am about to be swept away by the winds of fate. While this lack of ground beneath my feet would seem the perfect place for a would be artist, I just can't quite seem get my head around it. Thats usually how I deal with stuff, I wrap my head around it and swallow hard til nothing is left but me and victory. But this isn't a problem of the head, it's a problem of the soul. I gave up god too long ago to still think he will somehow come to my rescue. Its time for a new deity, a new spirituality, a new awakening of purpose. But I've spent my life waiting, and while I can't complain about what's come to me, I think its time I made things happen myself. So here I am, torn between peace and the way of the warrior. The idea that standing still will eventually lend me freedom is more than appealing. But I've visitted the land of familiarity. And the wanderlust and possibilty within the darkness around me is too pervading to let me sleep soundly in ignorance. It's time to shed my cloak of peace; to wade out into this giant murky river styx and seize whatever destiny befalls me. Wish me luck.