Sigh.

All I want in life is someone to sing the Ben Folds part while I sing the Regina Spektor part.

Eat, Pray, Love, Part 2

I think I' m honing in a bit more on what bugs me about this book. I think Gilbert approaches basic human emotions as if she were the first one ever to experience them. And while I understand that they are meaningful to her, I guess I would like to see some indebtedness to.... humanity? Just some recognition that- oh, this has to be trite- I just know it is, but it felt new to me...

But she lacks that. And her writing thus has an air of pretentiousness that I assume is unintended. More to follow.

Something something art.

Here's my short thought (sparked by reading Elizabeth Gilbert's "Eat Pray Love"): Is all art self-serving to some degree?

I read her book, and for many a reason, don't fully connect with it, partially because I think her style of narrative is self-serving. But I know this is inherent in non-fiction, especially non-fiction memoirs. But is it more than just that? Don't many people create art to record something of themselves, or for the catharsis? Aren't these things, then, self-serving.

I don't know. Just curious.

Let's Part with the Disclaimers....

I'd like to part with the disclaimers.... but that's just not totally in my personality. I blame it on partly on the gorgeous spring weather, which is very transition-y or, the st. Patrick's Day drinks, or mostly listening to Ben Kweller's "Falling"- one of those bittersweet songs that reminds me of being a teenager, and transports me back to being in Texas, and makes me feel a sense of loss, and makes me feel like I need to grow up in a hurry- all at once.

There are just time when I want to cut all the bullshit in relationships (many times, under the aforementioned conditions, one of which being Gin + Tonic), and just say what's really going on. I realize completely that this is a fully cliched and ordinary statement- but at the same time, not an unimportant one. It is common and trite for the simple reason that it is a shared experience.

I don't want to dwell on the lofty (ish) principles of how cliched and prosaic principles prove themselves to be true in our everyday lives, I really don't. I was just driving home from St. Patrick's Day festivities, and just thought of one person. And again, I attempt to dispense here with the cliches and disclaimers- last one- this was much more of a "why didn't we do things this way" type of thought than a "oh, how hard relationships are" kind of thing.

Why didn't I just sit down and say- let's cut the bullshit- regardless of what you feel and think- I need to say this- you get me. You get my stupid, sarcastic, sometimes offensive sense of humor. You get my love of Queen, and pub quiz obsessions, and my introspection, and my introvertedness, and my need to verbally process. You and I have both had a hard, shitty transition out of college, but here we are, and we're the better for it.

And maybe I'm just 22, and mildly retarded, because I just haven't met that many people that I feel like fit the bill. But why didn't I initiate that conversation? Why did I choose to deal with the "What Ifs" rather than deal with the possible rejection. I don't know. I know I'm being maudlin and self-serving right now, but... I don't know, I guess I'm allowed.

I'm tired- not emotionally, or existentially, or in a Ben Folds way, "tired of life..."- I'm just tired. And I need to go to bed. I'll leave the soul-searching to another day.

Bump.

Lately, I've felt like a creative bump on a log. A phrase I hate. So, let's go with the far less poetic and far more prosaic "lazyass."

This week marks my 5 months in the corporate world. A small eternity (does that make any sense?). Working 40 hours a week, every week, every month, with no foreseeable change or break is an odd, and new concept to me. The last, well, 22 years of my life have been marked by a "what's next" mentality. High school precedes college- a time filled with constantly planning for the near future- internships, classes, summers abroad, etc. Though the specifics of these next steps are rarely nailed down far ahead of time, there is always a definite next step.

And after graduating from college, that was over. My forseeable "next step" is I guess turning 30. Or death. Or whatever.

All that to say- it's been a rocky transition at times. And I've become very jealous with my non 9-5 working hours. I've become extremely possessive of those hours, and introvert that I am, like to spend many of those hours recharging. But an unfortunate byproduct of that has become laziness. It's easy to justify doing nothing productive or creative in your off-hours, because so many things are required of you during work. It can seem like just one more thing on a list to force yourself to sit and write, or read, or blog, or whatever.

So, my non-work hours as of late have been filled with catching up on some fantastic TV shows (Freaks and Geeks as of late), or spending time with friends, which has been fantastic. But I'm left feeling less than fulfilled in other areas of my life, specifically creatively speaking.

It wasn't until yesterday that I realized the whole line of thought behind this. I feel dissatisfied when I watch TV, or surf the internet because these things require nothing of me. They are completely passive acts, allowing me to lazily consume information and be entertained as I see fit. I stare at a screen, click a mouse and the rest is done for me.

And I understand why I've avoided it. On some level I think I wanted to preserve my sanity, and I suppose the thought was that keeping myself from these things that required something of me would keep me sane, and help me to enjoy my off hours. But pouring so much time into passive acts that require nothing of the participants doesn't lead to any feeling of satisfaction. Maybe entertainment, or just escapism, but not the feeling that comes from giving something of yourself and being proud of the effort. I miss that.

I miss the time when I wrote alot- even just recounting a week's events for my own later consumption. It was the act of turning events into a story, and developing a voice and all that. I used to read more- I'd buy books for fun, and read, and form some opinion. I can feel these things starting to fade, and that scares me to death.

I've had this conversation with more than a few friends that I graduated with- more than anything our fear is that we'll wake up one day and be more than content to sit in a cubicle from 9-5, come home and sit in front of the TV until drifting off to sleep. We're afraid of losing our current idealism (at least we recognize that we're idealistic), and terrified of accepting mediocrity as the norm.

I firmly believe that people should hold on to their "idealistic" ideas as long as they possibly can. Go start a website, or a blog, or write a book, or an album, or start a business. We are inevitably confronted with the reality of any given situation too soon, so we might as well hold on to that drive and passion as long as possible.

I guess I say all this as a sort of pep talk for myself- to tell myself to keep writing- to keep reading- to keep pushing myself to be creative, and to keep producing- and to keep engaging in activities that require my time, and intellect. I think this is how people find out what they love to do, and if for no other reason, I should remain creative because of that.