I'm currently watching Sex in the City because my roommate Lauren got the second season on DVD, which is the greatest thing in the world. I've decided that I cannot write anything interesting at all unless something is inspiring me at that very moment. I'll think of great things to write, but when I finally get to my computer, I don't care anymore, I can't think of a single way to phrase anything I want to say. Sex in the City is the best show for inspiration to write because it addresses the issues in life we cannot stop asking ourselves. Well, you can stop asking a lot of them when you learn some basic lessons that take years and years to finally sink in, even when we know them logically. For example, it took me 23 years to understand that one should NOT date assholes. I felt like a damn genius when I was 18 and finally figured out that whole theory that we don't actually like assholes, but we like finding someone who wouldn't date just anyone because...he's an asshole who can get any girl who's looking for an asshole too. Even though I figured that much out, it took a few years longer to realize that just because a guy is nice, it doesn't mean he's a pushover, doesn't mean he isn't selective, doesn't mean he'd WANT to be with just anyone. It means he's a nice guy. A good guy. It means he's worth a try, and it's really really amazing when it turns out you were right.

But I digress...

I had recently had a discussion with a fantastic person about how I haven't written much over the past few months. It's not even just this site, it's my personal journal too. I don't think I've written a total of seven pages in that thing. So, this is the question - do you need to be unhappy to be inspired? This is a much bigger topic than this main page, but I'll write here and transfer it later. It just seems like having a difficult life emotionally or financially serves as some of the most powerful fuels for creativity and motivation. Anne of Green Gables felt bad for the rich because they had little imagination because they didn't need it - they lived a beautiful life. So, if you finally reach that point in life when you feel complete, when you feel happy emotionally more so than you ever have, when you feel at rest, when you feel comfortable and healthy - is there much to write about? There's nothing to work out, to analyze, it just becomes a time to enjoy to experience, to take a psychological nap. You spend a long time searching, so when you find what you've been looking for - what do you do then? I don't want to sit down and write about it, I just want to relax. But it's a strange feeling because you sort of miss missing. It's sort of like when someone mourns, when she finally moves on, she misses the mourning almost more than she misses the actual friend who died (according to Pascal). When you find that after months and months of crying after a break-up, when the day comes when you realize that you've gotten over the person, you feel sad. Crying over the person became a way of life, a bad way, but the only way you knew, and when you're free of that pain, part of you misses it. You look at that person who made you cry, and it feels strange that you could have ever cried over them, and a whole part of your world feels belittled and ridiculous. You don't feel sad because you miss the person, you miss yourself, the person you were when you were sad. You don't even want to be sad again, you don't want to be that person you were, it's just a confusing feeling when you move from one phase of life into the next. It's strange to let go of who you were, even if you didn't like that person. I get this way whenever I finish a book. I could have hated the book, but when I'm on the last page, I cover the bottom, and I read slowly because I put time into that book, and it ends with nothing more than a period at the end of sentence. It feels thankless. Moving on is hard. Even if you move into a mansion, the stingy apartment you came from will always hold some character for you. Getting what you've always wanted makes you appreciate everything you went through to get it. I guess I wonder if it ends there. I wonder if the creativity and motivation ceases, and if that's an okay thing. I miss writing in my journal, but I'm not writing in it because I'm so damn happy. I think a lot of creatives types would agree it's not a bad thing. I just need to find a way to use happiness as a motivation opposed to pain.

So, when you find actual happiness - it feels good, but you wonder what you do with all that free time, all that time you once spend scribbling in your journal to find an answer, to discuss your wishes and dreams, to figure out if you're making good decisions. Hours a day could go into it, and now that you're happy, those are hours you don't even know what to do with.

It's a wonderful thing, being happy - but you need a hobby to fill in the space you once spent on complaining. Either that, or just spend your time kissing. That'll fill in the blanks quite nicely.