20110731

La Musique Française

I don't reckon I understand what my mind has been dwelling with lately. Nor do I really care much...
I think I've quite possibly murdered my future goals. And I don't really know what to do about it because I'm not really sure if there is a solution to this. I don't know what I'm going to do with my life. Now, does everything really happen for a reason? Must I find another dream to pursue, must I find a different goal to chase after? Because I am getting no where.
I keep telling myself that I need an Idea. Which is true. I do need an idea. I just don't know where I'll find this idea. I don't know where to start and I don't how to start.
But this idea must be powerful. An idea inspired by the utmost original. I need an idea that will have the ability to build cities, to change the world.
I just can't seem to find any sort of inspiration or direction. I'm working on nothing, hoping for a city.
I just want to get out. To London, to Paris, to Seoul, to Prague, to Rome, to Tokyo. Just away from here and into an unknown city. Whether it be the city that never sleeps or the city where everybody wants to be somebody else. I need to get out of here.


"Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes.
The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them.
About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They invent. They imagine. They heal. They explore. They create. They inspire. They push the human race forward.
Maybe they have to be crazy.
How else can you stare at an empty canvas and see a work of art? Or sit in silence and hear a song that’s never been written? Or gaze at a red planet and see a laboratory on wheels?
We make tools for these kinds of people.
While some see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do."
-Apple Inc

20110708

Echo

How I miss last year's summer and its spontaneity. The same question remains in utter darkness, I wonder, when I will ever be able to get out of this bubble I call home. I sit here, just like I did the last, and the time before the last, and before the time before the last, asking myself the same old question.
Here come the tears and the feelings I thought I've grown out of. The familiarity of it all scares me and I wonder if this is some sort of annual meltdown that I'll always feel.
I just wish I could be away from here and living a life different from what I call my life.
I need to get out of here.
And how long will I be telling myself this?

Where is the answer to this?
A one way ticket out of here, please.