Another Sunday night in my apartment listening to music on the internet and spending more time than I need to on the world wide web. While I fully understand I could be taking this time to socialize with friends I don't see often, I am more than content being alone in my apartment listening to music and passing the time. Tonight I went a step further and with inspiration and a little direction from my absent roommate, I baked vegan banana bread. In 20 minutes I will know whether or not I'm a failure or a genius. Let's hope for the latter, shall we?
Here is an odd thing to think about. I feel like this blog, which is essentially an account of things that go on inside my head on a daily basis, was much more inspired when I was much more miserable. Now that my life in regards to my sanity and emotions have stabilized a bit, I feel like I don't really have much to write about. Sure, with more regular entries the silly daily occurrences I find myself having would be much more interesting I suppose. Maybe I'll try that...for the sake of my trio of regular readers - two confirmed, one that might just stumble upon this here rant from time to time.
Re-focusing on the matter at hand in the previous paragraph, I wonder if some of the "great" writers of our time or times past are so great because they are miserable. Sure, Sylvia Plath is an obvious example and I do not claimed to be well versed on modern literature and the lives of those that write it - but it seems like perhaps some of my personal favorite books/authors are kind of fucked up. Bret Easton Ellis is one of my favorites - Only author whose entire catalog I've read. He is totally bonkers. One of my favorite (albeit incredibly corny) books I've read this year was "Eat Pray Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert. I loved this book and found it incredibly inspirational, as I read it when I was so down in the dumps, I wasn't quite sure what was going to get me out. For the first time in my life I slightly considered taking anti-depressants. Quite glad I didn't go down that route - - but I digress. The author wrote that book during a nervous breakdown. Does it take being at rock bottom to create genius? Obviously not - look at that Candace lady and the Sex In The City books/series. One can say that is genius...or just genius marketing.
If I was teaching a college class on literature of this century I would totally assign something regarding the study of authors and their sanity or insanity during their careers, mostly because I'm too lazy to do the research myself and I'm very curious to see what is up with this.
My only inspiration lately comes from song lyrics. The amount of amazing singers, songwriters, lyricists out there is astounding. At least once a week I am moved by a line of a song. I know now that I'm okay, because these things don't make me cry like they did before, but it's nice to still feel something. Instead of self pity now, it is admiration for the folks writing the music and their great ability to put emotion into words. Not something I aspire to do, but I am thankful that others have.
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