Writing is therapeutic

Eq.. Equestrian..?

The beginning of Michael Clayton, I can’t seem to remember what the word is, or how to spell it. “Equarium” once popped up in my head. At the end of the film, the same scene, the word comes back to me. Maybe. I haven’t checked it in a dictionary yet.

I’ve forgotten how to write. No, I’ve never really been “able to write”. What I mean is, I’ve forgotten how therapeutic writing can be. I have a million thoughts running through my head at times, but somehow I’ve trained myself to shut them all off the moment I sit in front of a keyboard. I don’t write for kicks anymore. Then came photography, but somehow too I’m too lazy to sort through my thousands of photos. My parents wanted me to sort through the pictures from their ten-day trip to Turkey. I said that’ll have to wait until I’m done with my backlog. What the fuck happened to the passion?

I’m ranting now, in hopes that somehow this will trigger whatever it was that allowed me to write years ago. I’ve got a million thoughts in my head, locked behind a heavy door,  screaming to get out, and I seem to have lost the only set of keys. Maybe we have to go back a year and a half, maybe longer. Maybe I’ve not completely escaped from the confines of myself from a year ago. Maybe it’s when I came back to Taiwan and traded freedom for security. Maybe it’s from whenever it is I lost the ability to retain my attention for more than 15 minutes on a given task. But the conclusion I’ve come to is that it’s still all there. The thoughts, or the feeling that something’s on the verge of doing something. It comes and goes. I’ve just gotten better at masking it all. It’s all good most of the time. I keep myself occupied with my relationship and my work. I don’t have a goal in mind and everything is whizzing past me before I can fully register it in my head. I catch myself for one second and it’s the end of 2011.

I don’t know what I’m getting at. I have moments of happiness, which I identify by laughter and I don’t know, maybe that’s it. It’s a rather shallow definition, I know. But it shall suffice for now. Also will suffice: a nap on a fair-weathered Sunday-afternoon. See what i mean about the short attention span?

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