today, someone asked me what it is i do that makes me feel the most fulfilled in my life. hard question, i know. i said writing. and it sounds totally cliche. but i can sit down with a pen and just empty my entire brain onto a paper (really, you think that's a metaphor. it's not. it's like turning on a faucet. and it can get pretty messy.) and after an extended period of intense scribbling, i sit up and look around and fill much more at ease. i may have literally accomplished nothing, but mentally, this brain-emptying brings me a sense of order and elucidation. i may have even made no specific decision regarding what i poured onto paper, but i feel so much more at peace. as if my brain thinks and feels and creates and glitches so much that it builds up, and i am unable to comfortably move ahead without alleviating some of the metaphorical pressure in my skull by channeling the excess mush through my pen. (i told you it was a slimy, gelatinous mess. my semi-sincere apologies for the graphic nature of this description.)
but i did that today. i'm home for labor day weekend, and instead of doing homework or cleaning the bathroom (things that probably would have made normal people feel fulfilled or at least accomplished) i sat outside in the shade and emptied my head. and i feel a lot better now. like i can now go do homework or clean the bathroom with a new sense of purpose and clarity. though that doesn't necessarily mean that i actually will.
mushaboom -- feist
only skin -- joanna newsom
campus -- vampire weekend
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