I'm not here...this isn't happening...

Seems this has become somewhat of a mantra of mine lately. Some may call it denial - an unwillingness to accept the simple fact that I'm a part of this world, that I exist day to day. I wake, head off to work, head home to a house which has always been a meeting point. Every day, at least one of my friends will drop in, simply to hang out for a while. It's never a lonely household, amongst the three of us. Not unless you sometimes feel lonely for the lack of solitude and quiet. Not much of that around here.

Mine is not a mantra of denial however. I've come to realise that it's all about procrastination. It's all about waiting for change to come to me, because it's easier that way. It's easier to wait for a flash of light to suddenly appear, signalling that the corner has been turned. Ask any failed actor in LA, any failed garage band waiting for their big break. It'll come one day, the material's all there, and it's so much better than what's 'popular', what's hitting the top of the charts.

if you build it they will come

Such a simple lie. Such a relaxing deceit, when you're convinced that you're slipping away from yourself. Wait long enough, be convinced in your value for enough time - build a fortress of positive thought around yourself - someone will notice. Sit in your home, be convinced in your value, be sure that someone will see through the walls.

There has to be a change, I'm sure...

Last week, I tried to give up smoking, again. After succeeding once before, then falling down. It's not going so well right now. I need to drink less. I need to wake up feeling alive. Last week, I was driving into work, early in the morning. A 7.30am start, managing to beat the traffic (what little of it exists in my home), on a frosty morning. I can barely describe the feeling on that morning. At 100km/h, driving through patches of fog, the sun just beginning its climb above fog banks on the horizon - the edges of those ground based clouds were golden, the ground was bathed in a subdued, warm light. It felt like the earth was alive beneath me, breathing deeply, drawing air into lungs choked with tar. It was a morning for singing.

I don't believe that this feeling was a product of the weather. I don't believe this morning was so much different to any other. I do believe that after a day of beating my addictions, my minds eye was given the room to see, once again.

I'm fighting a war here, and the enemy is myself. My apathy, my weak will. My willingness to stagnate, to allow dreams to dominate reality. My determination to take the easy road, waiting an indeterminable amount of time for change to come to me.

I think I need to find a new mantra. It will be simple.