food for empty space

First posts are funny: my first step into this brand new blogging realm and not a single witness present. Only white walls and bare floors, anonymous neighbors and the comfortless knowledge that these christening thoughts are no more than food for empty space.

I'm twenty-three years old, an aspiring...well I'd like to do something in the field of creativity. The more general I leave that, the better--at least for now. Through this blog, I will probably write about my search for a higher art and my pretty much fruitless, though still ceaseless, attempt to return wonder to what's left of life.

You see, after a pretty secure childhood--one in which the oblivion of munchkinland provided me the comfort of being able to assume that the big ones had everything figured out--I grew up to find that, in truth, the big ones have far less figured out than they'll ever admit, and reality, the very same one that seemed so thick and bright before, actually hangs by a desperate thread. Thus, my ascent into maturity was my descent into lassitude. And although I do recognize a greatness in revival, in a life lived to "make things better", the brass tacks of what such an "honorable life" demands can often overbear.

If nothing else, this blog will be a journal of my continued descent, or well-sought restoration. I'll make a resilient push for the latter.

This is my attempt at honesty at last.