You know, there are just some people that don’t see to stop. There’s always something new coming from their finger tips, their minds, their souls. I started reading a blog a while back that’s a great illustration of this called Humans Are Weird, and while I’ve found the contents range from inspiring to only mildly interesting for me, I am always astonished; this fucking guy always has just this constant, continuous stream of thoughts, inspirations, things to say, and it’s one of the reasons I’m so drawn to his corner of the internet. It’s something that always crosses my mind when I see he’s posted something new. Hasty Words is another great example of this; pretty much every day, there’s something new posted.
I’ve got to admit, sometimes I really envy that. It never fails to astonish me. See, I’m not a consistent person, I almost inevitably bore, and when I don’t, when I get obsessively interested in something, the interest never seems to leave me; even when the source of it seems stale, the object of my wonder no longer able to inspire me or move me to thoughts of my own about it. With the ones I fixate on, they’re each a well of inspiration that – sooner or later – runs dry. I’ve got this maddening habit of devouring all I can from it, and not letting it alone. Instead of looking elsewhere, I want what I had and I don’t always stop to think that if I don’t move on to another well for a while, the one I’m haunting won’t be able to replenish and there will be nothing to get from it.
This feeling – of being incapable of such boundless vitality, such endless creativity – if I had to try to describe it, is like I have a floodgate that stops the flow, controls and regulates it, and it’s an obstacle within that I see others appearing to have bypassed, circumvented, or outright smashed through.
The scope of these things matter though, more than I tend to remain mindful of. Because I have achieved a focus of my own that allowed for such continuous, tireless pursuit, more times than I can count; and it’s only in the resting periods, in a state of fermentation, that this seems such an enviable, unreachable feat to me. I’ve accomplished a lot of great things for this exact capacity to kick it in full gear and go, non-stop, ’till there’s just no more gas. I suppose it seems so amazing to me as an onlooker, because in the midst of it there is a sense that it will never end, could never end, and after each of these periods of boundless vitality come to a close it feels as if it has ended all to quickly. The hard truth of it is simply this: I can match a pace like that, sometimes, but I just don’t operate at the same pace all the time – nor do the people that seem to – and, sometimes, others going onward full tilt incites envy and restlessness. All a part the my process I suppose.
(Written April 30th – May 20th)