you’re not meant to understand it

K… what have I been up to… Working, Hanging out with Lorea, Spending too much time on my computer, Reading interesting articles on Wikipedia, Reading the Satanic Bible (still, I’m a slow reader), Running everyday still, Eating out and eating at home, Writing songs on my guitar, Trying hard to write vocal melodies for the songs I am writing, Envisioning the guitar, bass and drum tracks all in my head at the same time while I’m writing the song, Trying to determine what I want to communicate to the world through the music I am working on, Feeling vulnerable about the music I am writing – more so than any other “art project” I’ve done. I feel convered in judgement or potentially so. It’s really just a voice in my head telling me I’m no good, telling me I have no ability to write a good song. The voice sounds like a lot of people I know and the voice is asking me to play the song for them and then me just saying “I have nothing to show you.” then I feel guilty and sad that I am not accomplishing what I have wanted for so long… To just be able to freely write songs wihout the judgement that exists in my head. I just need everyone to back off of my artistic agenda. I’ve only ever created things for me, and when people ask about any artistic vision i have or may have it’s like that vision goes running scared in to the far recesses of my brain like a dog under a hose. I never made any art to be understood and i won’t make any music because YOU want me to or because YOU think iut shoudl sound a certain way. How come I can write pages and pages of meaningless posts in this blog, but when it comes to writing lyrics i feel so stuck right now. i beat myself up over it. why do i do that? when i was a kid i had a huge imagination. i imagines whole movies out of picture books and whole worlds out of my lego pieces. i never did it for anyone else. i had nothing to prove to anyone. i was just doing it to escape… to escape to a place that I created that YOU don’t know about, that YOU can’t find. there i was perfectly happy in my solitude of abundant imaginary stories. i need to go back there. that is my place i need to be. don’t talk to me about this stuff. it makes me shy.