Damn These Vampires

Warning to thrill-seekers: the title has no implications on the journal. (it's actually from a song by the Mountain Goats)

Actually, I lied. Really, it has to do with this journal, in the sense that the vampire as a character can somewhat symbolize roadblocks. And this journal is one of frustration - has it really been that fucking long since I've bothered to type up a few run-on sentences and call it a dA journal? Therefore, the topic of today's fantastic little writing is roadblocks. The paths to excellence, and the unfortunate fallen trees that block a person - be it painter, playwright, or cartoonist - from continuing to "run with an idea" of sorts. On an unrelated note, those fallen trees, or sometimes a person just standing creepily in the middle of the road, have been scientifically proven (by television shows, of course) to almost always lead to a vampire attack once the driver is incapacitated.

Also, this journal concerns (explanation, for the few who view these thought cycles) the reason why I haven't bothered to update in far too many months. But I'm feeling a bit artistic today, which is no surprise, as it is a new year, not a new person though; as usual, my artistic mood seems to strike only when I have a paper or essay due soon...ah, such is the life of a good ol' procrastinator like mehself.

Sorry I seem to change moods back and forth so quickly. I've been told it may be a problem, and looking back through my other journals it is possible that my sudden writing twists can confuse the reader. However, you, dear reader, aren't being forced to read this...so proceed at the risk of your own sanity! It's like entering the dark maze of tunnels in the Mines of Moria, and in this case, you shall either pass or not pass.

Back to the train tracks...I believe I was in the midst of introducing the journal. But, eh, screw that crap. This isn't an essay. Basically, the second reason for I'm feeling artistic, other than the habit of procrastination, owes its origin to a conversation with a good friend late last night. We were discussing several points about my life and goals, and I was trying to avoid an extensive rant on all the assholes in the world (particularly the one I'm starting to fall for...), when he simply told me that spending my time hating the world and being cynical about it would only waste my time. To paraphrase what he said, it's more important for me to spend my time writing, trying to create the next masterpiece, or trying to put some order to my thoughts via an online journal.

Forget this crap that keeps me down like a permanent Monday. And do something useful instead. But then again, to say what I've been saying to myself since the summer months - I have several works in progress and ideas that I think may create interesting poetry subjects.

Will they ever get written? Will I eventually accomplish something? Stay tuned to find out!