I haven't updated my blog in a while. It's actually a lot of pressure, the whole thing. And it's not because I know a few of my friends read and “look forward” to my blog posts, though that has changed how I think about the whole thing. The pressure is pretty much all self-imposed. I feel like I should be wanting to write blog posts, but I don't. Well, I do in theory, but when it comes down to writing, it's not fun.

I don't know what happened. This happened with my video making, my music, a lot of things. I shape my personality and ego around my accomplishments in these areas, and when I can't perform, it's crushing. It's forced me to ask, what am I if not a writer or composer or editor or whatever (these are things I am by virtue of what I do, they by no means imply competency or professionalism).

I can do these things if I force myself, but when I do, the product doesn't align with my vision, which forms my self-concept. What I do doesn't match who I feel I am.

I've told people I'm stuck in a rut, but this rut has lasted quite a long time.

But I caught a wave and I feel some motivation today. I remembered that this blog is my shitter. I can write whatever I want. It doesn't have to be art.

Though there that doesn't mean there aren't artistic (or maybe more specifically poetic) thoughts here. There's this poem that has really affected me: “Valentine for Ernest Mann” by Naomi Shihab Nye. I discovered it in my Lit Lang class in junior year; I was in a really rough spot at the time, and this poem I think was one of the major things that brought me out. It basically argues (I say in my political science brain) that poetry isn't something you make, it's something you bear witness to. Art speaks to people because it encapsulates certain concepts that many people experience. Good poetry, I think, makes you think differently about the world. I urge you, read that poem.

In my last trimester of senior year, I enrolled in the elective “Poetry Workshop”. I could have easily taken no elective and went home early, but I signed up for the class with two of my best friends. It was very freeform, but there was one thing that we had to do: write poetry. I'm the type of person that is not satisfied with producing something mediocre. If I'm gonna do something, I'm gonna do it well. So I wanted to write good poetry.

The poem that I made in that class that I think most encapsulates this attitude is “Silver Bullets”. When I read it to my friends, they didn't get it. That's fine. Could I have written it better? Maybe. But this was for me. The poem at first seems freeform, but there's a strange, unconventional meter that you have to look for. It reflects the poem. When I walked into school — when everything was stressing me out or causing me anxiety or depressing me — I made up games. When it rained, I caught a short break from the downpour by going underneath an awning. The rain was particularly strong at the end of the awning, where drops collected. I found that there was a rhythm to their madness: the drops would collect in the same places, and at a rhythm. It's also a metaphor for my anxiety — in order to be secure, you actually need to embrace your fears. But you can't learn these things without viewing the world in a poetic light.

Of course, the problem comes with translating these thoughts into actual works of art.

One of the things I've been thinking about recently is the Void that separates our souls. No matter how much we connect, we are all alone in our experience of life. We are fundamentally separated. It's kind of like how atoms can't really touch. If you were to touch another soul, the distinction between you and them would disappear. We are defined by our separation. Like I've said previously, ContraPoints explores this brilliantly in her video “Twilight” and briefly in her video “The Hunger”. We yearn to unite with our other half, and yet, we fear it because it is fundamentally death. From what I've experienced of love, I feel this. I don't know, maybe I just did too much weed (in Minecraft) and I'm overthinking it. Actually, come to think of it, I wouldn't be surprised if this is similar to the ego death that people experience when doing LSD.

I feel like Email really expresses how we get closer to people. We start with the most formal openings “Dear whoever it may concern” and closings “Best regards, John R. Smith”. We then drop the middle initial and the regards; we use their last names and then their first names; we replace “Dear” with “Hi”, eventually dropping introductions altogether. The pretense of society that separates us from each other — that protects us from each other — is slowly removed. Your life partner(s) should really be people you don't have to provide social pretense towards. I think it's really sad that lots of people don't have that.

I've been talking to my therapist about my social media addiction. For me, it's a way to both turn my brain off and overstimulate it, so I can ignore how shit life is. I can't not be in front of a screen or doing an activity or something. I mean I can physically and mentally do it, but it would mean that I'm alone with my thoughts. I wouldn't be surprised if this is why other people are addicted as well. Why is social media addiction on the rise? Maybe it has to do with the fact that the world fucking sucks right now.

Everything is going to shit. Everyone realizes that Biden is on a steep mental decline but no one will do anything about it. Trump is going to be president, especially now that someone tried to shoot him. Our democracy will evaporate as Trump transforms the government inside out into an autocracy, like a caterpillar transforming into a moth and shedding its cocoon. Climate change is going to destroy the Earth. And for me personally, I have no idea what I want to do with my life. Living is exhausting. Of course, social media doesn't really fix that, like alcohol or drugs or gambling or whatever other addiction.

I don't want to do a conclusion, I'm tired.