Without A Map, Without A Compass.

I have sabatoged three courses this semester. I have not learned a new song on the piano since the begining of the first semester. I have spent months upon months dwelling on trivial shit. Waste of time. Time wasted.
The begining of the year was a time of opportunity. A blossoming flower who's petals stretched out into the cool breeze of a hopeful September. A September to hopeful to last.
Throughout October the days grew shorter and the skies grew grey. A few starless nights later it was winter. The once blossoming flower was now torn and wilted. A ghost of its former self.
That flower is not a metaphor for me. I simply sympathize with it. I don't deserve a metaphor.
My failure does not warrant poetry. I neglected assignments, missed class, studied half-heartedly for tests and so on.
The flower could not help but wilt. I let myself wilt.
To put it frankly (and honestly) I stopped giving a shit because it was to much work. I lost motivation.
Perhaps I am not cut out for university? Maybe I just haven't found my "calling"?
I spend too much time asking questions and not enough time answering them. In fact, the latter question is a futile one. My "calling", my "calling"? Honestly now, thats naive. That's like quitting your job before you've won the lottery. Desperate hope.
Then again I'm a negative bastard. Maybe people do find their "calling" and do live their "dreams". Maybe all those people I see walking down the street before 9am and after 5pm are either going home to relax, spend "quality time" with loved ones and get a good nights sleep or waking up to another hard yet rewarding day at work doing that which interests them.
But that's irrelevent. Other people's dreams are'nt my problem. I should think about my own, or rather the lack thereof.
I cannot help but write and play music. However I know better then to believe in myself. Thats how you get crushed.
Comparing my writing and music to some of the stuff that's out there is like comparing the light of a candle to that of the sun.
I know my stuff isn't bad but I'm afraid its mediocre. A candle shines in darkness much better then in daylight. So should I step into the sunlight and find out if I'm a candle?
There I go with questions again. Dwelling on tamed and declawed dreams won't get me anywhere. I have to stop fucking up everyday life.
I can't focus...ever. My inner dialogue is a myriad of futile speculation and trivial hyotheticals; or it is a whirlpool of deeper thought that almost always ends with negative conclusions.
I'm growing tired of negative conclusions.
Between beauty and truth, I choose beauty.

I fucked up because I wasn't interested in theses or postulations.
I was interested in what is beyond logic.

I don't need to know the meaning of life (would'nt mind though), but I must experience the poetry of it.

But poetry is'nt going to help me pass the exam I have in 9 hours that I have'nt studied for.

Maybe Im just really lazy and a little bit thoughtful?

There I go asking questions again...

Raving Mad.

So I have created a blog; a net to catch those little pieces of everyday life that would otherwise fall through the cracks of memory. Which is ironic because I don't want to examine the forgotten moments of yesteryear. I don't want to remember, or look ahead for that matter. In fact I don't even want to recognize the existence of the present - of time
Time is unavoidable and unstopable. You cannot prevent the rising and falling of the sun. That is something I have learned lately. You see for the past few weeks I have been living almost nocturnally. I wake up a few hours before the sun sets and fall asleep as it rises. It is in these brief hours of sunlight that I am most uneasy. For the sun is a reminder that outside my twilight world there is a real world with real people, doing real things - the things which I am supposed to be doing, but am not.
I will be sitting on the couch, half drunk savouring the soft, comforting, toxic fumes of my ciggerette and then I will notice it: the slow change from the black blanket of night into the glowing purple of early morning. Glowing purple that warns of daylight creeping over the horrizon, spreading forth over the city onto the streets and into the room where I lay. I put out my ciggerrette and close my eyes. I forget about the sunlight, forget about the things I am suppose to be doing and fall asleep. Half a day later, I wake up as the sun is getting ready for bed. In those waning hours of daylight I hear and see countles people coming home from a hard day's work. A hard day's work. I don't want to think about it, so I inhale deeply on my ciggerette and forget and wait for nightfall. Night comes, the room is darker now. Its amazing how much cleaner a room looks in the dark. It's two in the morning, and I'm not the least bit tired...