Mind in a Mid-desert Mirage

When I have my notepad, I pay attention to peculiarities. I notice voices, smells, sounds, textures, atmospheres and all the detail that journalists aren’t supposed to ignore.

It inspires me. Or, I inspire it.

Would you look at that, I’ve found my writer’s voice – it’s a light-hearted, witty tone with a dash of poet.
Moments ago, I was scrambling through my handy-dandy notepad in class. I re-read some old thoughts, half-written anecdotes, scribble- scrabbles, and poems that only make sense when I read them. Sometimes I can’t believe I wrote that stuff. Good thing writing is a progressive practice of the imagination. I’m actually just now coming to terms with the fact that I’m a writer. It’s odd that I’m a member of the “writerly” culture who forms the backbones of this society.
We’re different from artists. Words are our art. We don’t make pottery, knit patches of fabric together, or paint canvases – we write words. It’s mentally laborious, that’s for sure. We have a third eye for sharp perception on the page. All I need is a free imagination to engage the senses.

In fact, I don’t even know why I’m writing this right now. I’m just letting my thoughts run wild instead of listening to this lecture that will probably have less than profound effects on my life. I stopped listening when I heard the word “teached” used in a sentence. As it turns out, writing about writing induces more writing. I don’t doodle on my spirals, I write half-page blurbs instead. It appears to my colleagues that I’m taking comprehensive notes right now, but my mind is in a mid-desert mirage.

Creativity fuels me.
Art remains entirely resistant to anything resembling an obligation since its domain is where freedom reigns – Emile Durkheim. That’s all I’ve learned today.

The most boring topic on earth is a dull encounter with a writer.

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I went to the Sony center at Potsdamer Platz this weekend to catch the children's movie, UP. The ceiling in this fascility was far out. The children in the theater were bilingual. I got jealous.