Why is it that I love writing so much, yet I can never think of what I want to write? I sit in class wanting only to get home and go straight to my computer and fill pages with stupid times new roman letters; yet when I finally have the time, I clean my room, make food, and procrastinate until it's too late to even start. I guess you can say I kind of procrastinate to write letters too, which can explain the months that go by in silence. Not cool man! Especially because I love talking to you, but sometimes it's too hard. Not really hard in the sense that it's too upsetting, but hard in the sense that I don't always know what to write and it becomes too easy to just put it off until later when I have something to write.
I have to write a short story for Creative Writing. I have so many brilliant ideas that I start when I'm no where near my computer, things like manifestos, "firsts", memoirs, etc. Running and playing the piano usually gets my creative juices flowing, but it's cold outside and there is barely space in my bedroom for some boots let alone a piano.
I miss being able to close my eyes and play a song perfectly from the feel of the keys. Some were greasier than others and they were reminders for my fingers when I switched octaves. Maybe that's what I need to do... write about playing the piano. I'll try it. Thanks Grandpa! :)