life lessons

When I was in high school I started writing a Vonnegut-esque novel about Sierra Leone, the R.U.F. (a deplorable militia) and the diamond trade of West Africa. The books I read about child soldiers and slave labor were devastating. I never finished the book though.

I watched a documentary recently about North Korea, and I was quite moved by a particular scene that spoke about the Grand People's Study House. The Grand People's Study House is the central branch of North Korea's library, which houses over 30 million volumes. Citizens are not allowed to view the shelves themselves. They can request a volume and a trained professional will retrieve it for them. There is also a philosophy room, where a citizen who has a philosophical question can ask a professor and, according to the tour guide, "Then the professors give them the correct answers immediately." It's incredible. I might combine these ideas. But it's been many years since I wrote anything long enough to be considered a novel, and I doubt any ideas I have will come to fruition. I'm too depressed.

My problem is, I have great ideas (at least I like them), but I watch them disappear, float away like helium balloons set free on a beach. I have no motivation, no inspiration, no connection. All I do is fail.

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If someone tells you, "I can't imagine life without you" don't believe them.

Everyone can live without you. Life for normal people is only damage control.

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I'm just a balloon, floating away into the vastness of sky with no sound, no direction, clinging childishly, frantically to memories of someone who no longer has sight of me.