Back to Basics

I write as a means of figuring shit out. It's a way of making sense of the world, of taking experiences and memories and dreams and turning them into words, then stories, then hopefully eventually a concrete understanding of something abstract. At least this is why I used to write, but lately I haven't been writing at all. When I thought about why that is, what has changed in the past 6 months that has caused a cease-fire in the mental battles of my brain between what I understand and what I don't, I think all signs point to TOO MUCH.

I live in New York City, and there is just TOO DAMN MUCH. Too much to see and taste and describe and comprehend and appreciate. Too much traffic, too much noise, too much to take in. Instead of cherishing little nuggets of clarity throughout my day, on the subway or at the grocery store, I keep my headphones in and my head down. I don't try to listen or comprehend or appreciate at all because it's all TOO MUCH, and as a result, I don't write.

But... after a prompting wall post and subsequent gchat conversation, I've decided to start small. I don't need to make sense of everything that's happening around me, but I should at least try to put it into words. Hopefully a concrete understanding of all things abstract will come, eventually.