Three pages after I wake Sun-Dec-20 (1)

I read that after waking up it is best to write three pages at least, of free form writing. If only to get the fluff out of the way and get creative juices flowing. As I sit down right now, on a time clock even I find it hard to focus on anything to write about. It seems the little reading I do has a major positive impact on me. I end up learning all sorts of new things. You think that would encourage me to read more but it doesn’t. I’m not sure what I blow my time on, but its not reading. Strike that. I lied. I know what I spend my time doing. Whishing for better. I spend most of my time procrastinating. I spend most of my time waiting to get something I don’t have. I met an interesting person, last night. Sometimes in life, I meet a person so impressive that I want to be like them. Not exactly like them but I see qualities in them that I want for myself.

I feel I am living up to only 25% of my potential. Damn straight everyone should be disappointed in me, no one so much as myself. Letting my youth spoil like fruit in the sun. I should be doing something with all this. Time is against me, more so now than ever. I have a month to turn things around and waiting is not an option. I suppose I think I do myself a favor by not stressing out over certain things. It is my nature to mull and worry over the most far away things in the cosmo’s but then turn a blind eye to the building disasters in front of me. I can write and write till my graphite falls off but until I put those words into action I might as well be writing in sand script, the letters have no meaning to me.

I suppose the first step is being confident and satisfied with yourself. Though admittedly I am never satisfied with anything, not my art, not my life, an least of all my self. I have had it told to me that I have serious self loathing issues. Maybe my dissatisfaction has led me to strive for self improvement. This is what this writing is a step to self-improvement. ‘you say you wanna be the next Kobe Bryant but you don’t play for a team and you call yourself a writer but you cant produce complete work.’ For a long time I have been chasing that elusive title as ‘writer’ I have long had ideas but lacked the discipline and the strength to finish them

I wake up with the most inane thoughts. Maybe I should stop looking at myself through the lens of others people lives and take a step back. Maybe I should look at it from a factual point of view. Or maybe just my own point of view will do fine. One problem is that I expect things to come easy and if I can slack on something I will. I have this belief that I can pick up anything and automatically be the best at it. I don’t know where this thinking comes from. It is true that I can quickly catch on an excel at most things, so when try and fail at something I automatically assume I’ll never get it.

I don’t even dream anymore when I sleep. I see visions that I can remember. I recall waking up one day this week thinking about Chris Brown and why he beat Rihanna. I picked up a copy of GQ with her on the cover a few days later. I recall also this week waking up with the lyric “But they say you be on that conscious tip, girl get your head right get up on this conscious dick.” And recalling how disgusted I was with that line.

It seems I spend a lot of the time recalling and thinking about things that disgust me, annoy or otherwise disappoint me. The hook of “Halle Berry! Halle Berry Halle Berry.” Stayed on my mind for weeks despite having forgotten where it came from and numerous attempts to dislodge it from my mind. I even started replacing Halle Berry with other words. Kansas City! Kansas City Kansas City. Just to see if it would fit. I swear my mind is a computer or at the very least working at the whim of someone else. There have been times I would wake up suddenly and still hear my mind talking, as if having a serious conversation or simply listening to one. However as soon as I realized it was taking place the conversation was lost to me and almost instantly forgotten as if I had been eavesdropping on the thoughts of my own brain. The words I thought I heard where no longer remembered.

I use to believe that I was unique, a gifted individual, someone set apart. Now I believe that I simply do not understand myself and have allowed people to attach their opinions of me, on me and I wear them as my own. Though I would hardly consider myself average or normal I just don’t feel as if I have earned the right to coin myself as unique or gifted. Maybe talented as I have enough imagination to fill several college ruled notebooks but other than a few exocentric rantings, what sets me apart from anyone else?

I suppose that since I am still young I am allowed to not know these things yet. However, three pages later and I still feel no better sense of direction. Ah! There I go assuming I’ll get it on the first try…