Friday, October 13, 2006


Hello there, world.

And so another working 8-6er week ends ... in the high high building overlooking the too-blue bay of this harbour city, container ships peppering the vista and a nagging sensation that I am practicing bad bad time-management by sitting here and playing blog-this instead of perusing documents, twiddling my cocoa-buttered fingers and billing accordingly.

Instead I am thinking ... what am I doing here or, more to the point, what I am doing here. I am committed to this start of a career, I am. I am. But I also know I cannot do a job that can be done by anyone else ... I need to create a career, a product, a work, that could only be done by me ... that could not be born without me ... that could not otherwise have even been imagined. This is my old song and I have been fine-tuning the melody all my life ... I just need a new instrument.

All I know right now and for sure is that I cannot be cut out by the cookie-cutter ... I will not be made the same as the next and the next and the next, where small concerns consume all days and great passions are reduced to ideas that belong only in great romantic tragedies ... I will not be cut out unless all men are cut out into little stars and pasted across the sky.

For a long time, I thought that I could write in a non-productive environment. I didn't see, didn't feel, I didn't understand or acknowledge how I was stifled, censored by my own hand and ultimately, how uninspired I could become. Being a proper on-paper worker-bee.

I thought, I thought that I could do it anyway - DESPITE having to be walking-talking-smiling UNIT in matching heels and hangbags and deflated hopes. But somewhere along the way my own desires became less worthy and less worth fighting for under the weight of the sum of the expectations of my own and those that are the mainstay of my life in this suffocative place (and yes - I did just make up that wanky word - bite me.)

And so I was finished.

But now I want to begin again. I want to be hungry and desperate and I want to feel that very real physical pain in the cave in my chest and reminds me every waking minute that something OTHER than this is where I am heading.

I need something again. I need to CREATE and to create something that could ONLY have come from me - that could only have spawned from my heart and my mind.

The. End.


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