Just streamed and preordered the new Stars album. It sounds better than their previous album, though nothing will ever beat Set Yourself On Fire. Still, it seems weird and a bit depressing, just like how I like most of my music most of the time. I also preordered the new Weepies album, which is happy music that makes me happy without lifting me too much.
Is it weird that I prefer to be moody? I’m just so used to it. I work better if I’m not happy. Not being happy isn’t the same as being sad, I think, it just means not being so giddy that you can’t concentrate. I’m a little scared to find the love of my life, because I’m worried about whether I’ll be able to write when I find him. What if I have to stop because I keep getting distracted by wanting to be naked all the time or having his head in my brain all the time? Love inspired Shakespeare, but depression or melancholy sparks me.
I spent a lot of time on the new playlist today, and I also worked on some others. I keep a running journal of playlists in a notebook separate from my journal or my writing notebook. It’s silly to actively make a a playlist rather than let it be inspired by what I’m listening to, but I have so much music I’ve forgotten about. I see the names of artists when I scroll through my iPod, but they’re not like actual names, just these images I’ve seen so much that I know them by heart but have no idea what they are. So it was good for me. And the title is fitting, because I actually find most of the songs quite sad. Maybe it’s because I’m not there yet. Thinking you’re amazing? Sure. Being amazing back to you? Not so much.
I like cloudy days with a cup of tea and a notebook and a pencil, not a pen–unless I’m journaling. Everything else is less permanent and requires an eraser or a backspace key. I like buying cute stationery and writing my sad, angstgirl thoughts on it and sending it off into the world, never to see it again until my archivists request it.
This mindless creativity and this forced procrastination has only been such a problem since I began college. It’s not surprising, given the many issues I’ve had to deal with. But if I don’t learn how to get back into my own writing self when I’m in Prague, of all places, I think it will be time to throw in the towel.