poadifnap[oirfhna;eklcnal;fkjaer]ogierjgo;as
;ldnv;oaerfj
;ldn;oajg;o
lerfjo;ierasj;oeihga[eoigh;oerJFAO!! POEHFOENGofjo;earjfo;jdoifa;
That's what it seems like i'm saying a lot of lately. It's kind of scary.
I've been reading random neighbouring blogs in the past couple of days, and sadly I read them before I attempt to write my own, and then I don't want to write anymore. Because I (wrongly, yes) compare my meagre writing abilities with my oh-so-gloomy peers, and I start to wonder if there really is something seriously wrong with me. Am I in the write place---pun intended---? Is blogspot the right thing for me to be spending my time on? Am I making a difference--in my world as well as someone else's? No, I don't know. Maybe you can tell me.
Is it depression that brings out the eloquence and beauty of language? Why is it that everyone who's down in the dumps can write so well? And why is it that everyone I'm reading lately is so depressed? Sure, it's the late-winter blahs... Sure, life gets a little difficult... Sure, this snow is hanging around town a little too long...
Here comes the 'what's wrong with me' question. Am I missing out on whatever is going so terribly wrong in everyone's lives? I get depressed, I get worried. I'm not a simpleton. The simple fact that I know what that term means tells you that no, I'm not stupid. Please don't think that just because I seem to be happy means that I haven't suffered and that I'm not worthy of helping you out with what you're going through. Maybe I should take down that happy mask. But that doesn't help anyone--We don't need MORE depressed people around here.
Right now I'm pissed off that I can't express myself as well or as effectively as people around me. (that means you, oh-so-gloomy peers) No it's not your fault. Would you please stop writing in your oh-so-perfect blog so that I can show off my thoughts too.
I wonder---if I could express myself with such excellent eloquence in whatever media with which I try to do so, would I feel better? Do you feel better? Does it help you to know that someone is reading your blog? In the same way, why can't I just cut off my ear and be a famous painter? Once again there seems to be a creator's block---and no amount of blogging will help me with that. There are signs hanging up around Sheridan in the past week or two. (someone's Intervention Project from Design 1) The signs say 'LOST: IMAGINATION' and proceed to describe the imagination that some poor depressed art student lost somewhere at Sheridan. It's hard to be an artist...to be human...without that imagination. Because what doesn't get expressed ends up being bottled up inside and it grows, and ferments, and starts to boil until you just need to get it out of you. What you end up with is a big waste of paint...or cyberspace...
I'm not bitter at you, fellow blogger. Please don't take offense: I'm just a little grouchy at myself that I'm responding this way. I enjoy reading blogs...it's too bad that sometimes blogging is the only communication that's happening...I find that depressing too...and this really isn't healthy!! (just like all the chocolate that my therapeutic baking is producing...not healthy...)
But there doesn't seem to be any good news in blogworld lately, and it's sad. Look outside today: it's GORGEOUS out there. The SUN is SHINING. Spring really is just around the corner, and you should go out there and greet it. With a smile. Try it! It might turn your day around.
Oh yeah, and while you're out there, make sure you sing a song of celebration to our glorious Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ...who's granted you LIFE. That at least is a reason for a smile.
;ldnv;oaerfj
;ldn;oajg;o
lerfjo;ierasj;oeihga[eoigh;oerJFAO!! POEHFOENGofjo;earjfo;jdoifa;
That's what it seems like i'm saying a lot of lately. It's kind of scary.
I've been reading random neighbouring blogs in the past couple of days, and sadly I read them before I attempt to write my own, and then I don't want to write anymore. Because I (wrongly, yes) compare my meagre writing abilities with my oh-so-gloomy peers, and I start to wonder if there really is something seriously wrong with me. Am I in the write place---pun intended---? Is blogspot the right thing for me to be spending my time on? Am I making a difference--in my world as well as someone else's? No, I don't know. Maybe you can tell me.
Is it depression that brings out the eloquence and beauty of language? Why is it that everyone who's down in the dumps can write so well? And why is it that everyone I'm reading lately is so depressed? Sure, it's the late-winter blahs... Sure, life gets a little difficult... Sure, this snow is hanging around town a little too long...
Here comes the 'what's wrong with me' question. Am I missing out on whatever is going so terribly wrong in everyone's lives? I get depressed, I get worried. I'm not a simpleton. The simple fact that I know what that term means tells you that no, I'm not stupid. Please don't think that just because I seem to be happy means that I haven't suffered and that I'm not worthy of helping you out with what you're going through. Maybe I should take down that happy mask. But that doesn't help anyone--We don't need MORE depressed people around here.
Right now I'm pissed off that I can't express myself as well or as effectively as people around me. (that means you, oh-so-gloomy peers) No it's not your fault. Would you please stop writing in your oh-so-perfect blog so that I can show off my thoughts too.
I wonder---if I could express myself with such excellent eloquence in whatever media with which I try to do so, would I feel better? Do you feel better? Does it help you to know that someone is reading your blog? In the same way, why can't I just cut off my ear and be a famous painter? Once again there seems to be a creator's block---and no amount of blogging will help me with that. There are signs hanging up around Sheridan in the past week or two. (someone's Intervention Project from Design 1) The signs say 'LOST: IMAGINATION' and proceed to describe the imagination that some poor depressed art student lost somewhere at Sheridan. It's hard to be an artist...to be human...without that imagination. Because what doesn't get expressed ends up being bottled up inside and it grows, and ferments, and starts to boil until you just need to get it out of you. What you end up with is a big waste of paint...or cyberspace...
I'm not bitter at you, fellow blogger. Please don't take offense: I'm just a little grouchy at myself that I'm responding this way. I enjoy reading blogs...it's too bad that sometimes blogging is the only communication that's happening...I find that depressing too...and this really isn't healthy!! (just like all the chocolate that my therapeutic baking is producing...not healthy...)
But there doesn't seem to be any good news in blogworld lately, and it's sad. Look outside today: it's GORGEOUS out there. The SUN is SHINING. Spring really is just around the corner, and you should go out there and greet it. With a smile. Try it! It might turn your day around.
Oh yeah, and while you're out there, make sure you sing a song of celebration to our glorious Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ...who's granted you LIFE. That at least is a reason for a smile.
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