Broadcast broadcast. I guess I must be really running out of ideas if I'm taking the title for this post from the blogger's greeting. Ah well, I probably am not that creative anyway. I'd like to be creative though.. It's the language of artists. The path of an artist.. seemingly it didn’t find me. Or didn’t I find it? I think medical science lied to me, manipulated me, made itself attractive.. Skewered me off track from my dreams of becoming a modern day da Vinci as a toddler. Now I am forever at the mercy of scientists who will tell me what they think I should hear. What my dumb, impractical nature takes at face value.
So I don't think I am very creative. It keeps me alive though, the inadequacy and the quest to strive for a sort of epitome. The beauty and curse of the relative, will plague almost anyone who embarks on a learning curve as bastardized as this. How can you express yourself? Why are you expressing yourself, is there a need to? Do you have a message, or is it serving your ego? Yeah, we do it for others to see, and we do it for release. Perhaps it would be folly to pin it down on any one thing. I don't know. Nobody's really there to tell you sometimes.
Yeah, I think someone may have led me here, astray even. But I'm too caught up in it; the strange beauty and the shiny dusty surfaces enthrall me. They sparkle so brightly my eyes burn out. Then it screeches into your ears and your world goes dark.
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