Saturday, September 03, 2011

Last night as I lay on my bed, my mind drifted to the possibility of writing again, of becoming a columnist of some sort. As the reality of graduation draws near, thoughts like these come often nowadays, especially when all lights are out and there's only a slither of moonlight resting on the sheets. In that window before your mind thankfully succumbs to deep slumber, it ponders. Ponders about past mistakes, about the future, about possibilities.

Truth be told, I have no idea what I'm gonna do after finishing my degree. I feel like I'm long overdue for a gap year, to just take time to travel on my own and absorb experiences on my own, without being spoon fed or coddled. But that would take money... and do you think my parents would actually let me travel on my own like that?

Doesn't it suck how everything revolves around money? Don't you just feel sometimes that the foundations of capitalism and consumerism need to just crumble so that everyone can go back to basics?

The basics, the simplicity of just being. The universe has no rhyme or reason, and WE do not have a purpose for existence. Yet we go on searching high and low for that purpose, just because humans are purpose-seeking creatures. So at the end of the day, you either create your own purpose, or you'll end up searching your whole life. It is basically arbitrary. Man is condemned to be free.

Wow ok I went on a bit there about existentialism ahem.

The basics, I think for me the basics involve the written word. The beauty of the written word can be... breathtaking. Recently I discovered this blog A Gold Noise, and I've fallen in love with it. I'm glad that there are people out there who are so at ease with the written word and can be so effortlessly graceful with it. Yes good writers make it seem effortless, that they strung out beautiful sentences out of pure talent and make readers sigh internally, gratefully.

So that's how I got to thinking about having a column of my own, in a magazine or a newspaper, anywhere. Something to support my other job, an illustrator or something arts related. Which would be silly of course, by my parents' standards, cos both jobs aren't even traditionally money-making secure jobs. To them it'd be like taking a ratty rag with holes in it to cover up the holes of another shitty rag that's trying to keep the pipes from bursting WTF.

And another question pops up which is, what the hell would I write about? I have such limited life experiences and knowledge to derive from, and judging from the dearth of stuff I write about here... I don't know.

One thing's almost certain, tonight I'll probably be drifting off to the same thoughts again...

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