What The Cosmos Wants

I miss writing a hell lot. I have a google of unfinished stories and trailing lines and words from months before all sitting in my hard drive. (I say sitting because I can't think of any other word which might describe what they're doing other than sitting -- because I think they're not just sitting.)

I need to read more if I want to write better. The book I bought last Sunday? I haven't started reading it yet. I can't seem to take it out of my bag. Whenever I open my bag, it's to take out my mug for coffee. I see the book inside, consider taking it out and reading a few pages, and end up taking out the mug instead.

I'm not sure if it's because of work, or if it's because of some unknown complex mechanism in my brain which I'm still trying to figure out... but I don't know. I guess I'm just saying.

Heh. I remember the times whenever I'm doing schoolwork, I'd always do them at the last minute -- the night before the deadline. All night through early morning I'd be complaining to everyone I can talk with online and on the phone how pressured I am and how ideas won't come into my head. And when 3AM or 4AM hits, everything would just fall into place and I'd be able to produce a whole magazine or novelette in a span of a few hours.

Right now, day off from work I'm supposed to be doing a lot of things. But maybe one day is not enough for me to get my brain to start working the way I want it to. Heck, it took me YEARS to make up my mind and apply for a paying job. I wonder how long it would take to get me to start writing again. Or drawing again.

Paulo Coelho said if we want something, the universe will conspire to give it to us. But the moment I start believing that, I lose sight over what I really want. It's confusing. I know I want to write and draw again. But right now those things are further from the path that the universe is showing me. Do I trust it?

Do I have a choice? Seriously...