What do I want again?
Today, I sit down once again after who knows how many months to just go through the motions again. I had this notion that I wanted to start working on a specific idea of mine and finish it. I started writing a book called How To Live, which I should honestly get back to, now that I mention it. Life has a funny way about it. It guides you, pulls you, and calls you toward certain directions. It becomes clear that these are particularly crucial for the living creature to pursue. Then, the same great ineffable forces do everything imaginable to distract you from those very things, like a strange game of reverse chicken. It's clear to me now, as in my quietest of moments, that I'd love nothing more than to make fictional stories. Stories that can be experienced visually, so they may be experienced universally, and create a powerful impact. Yet, in my waking hours, that dream is nowhere to be seen, other than faint reminders felt through memes, hobbies, and paraphilia. It's so c...