I'm currently waiting for my advanced spanish grammar class that starts later in afternoon. This break usually turns into my time-wasting time. So...I'm wasting time and listening to Muse, as I've found a renewed love for them of late. "Time is Running Out" is chiming in currently with a supremely sick bass-line. LOVE!
Anyhoo...I've recently taken on a very big libretto-writing project. It's technically supposed to be quite secretive, but when there are very few people to keep me accountable for my progress, progress wanes into nothing-ness. So...I wont give the details. Anyway...it's big...and it's going to be in two different languages-neither of which are my native tongue. Funny enough, though, that isn't what's making me nervous. I'm a little uneasy about the way my poetic inspiration generally comes and goes. It generally goes...and only comes back when I'm in a severe amount of emotional pain.
I mean...other than listening to "The Last Five Years" excessively, writing is one of the dead give-aways that I need a hug, a good cry and a very large cookie. But I'm not sad...not really. I'll admit, everything is pretty unbearably hard right now, but I'm fine... So how the heck am I going to conjure up enough pain to write the stinking pieces?! Well, I don't know. I've started some, but thus far I've only been able to write for a character that happens to be the antithesis of me.
Maybe that's the point.
The good news, though: what the antithesis of me has to say thus far is GOLD!
I think to myself...'wow...you might actually be good at this!'
and I think back at myself..'don't sound so surprised.'
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