I just came across this journal entry whilst preparing to burn all my old scribbles and word vomits. It’s from the recent past: 9 September, 2015. I am posting it here, because I think it’s relevant. Please feel free to offer answers if you have any. xoxo …
What happens to Romantics after 30? How do they become to susceptible to the diseases of mundane tedium and miserly metered out Martha Stewart-sanctioned bits of organized creativity?
What happens to the Spirit of Adventure? The faith in Possibility? The yearning and burning for the pillars of Bohemian Living: TRUTH! BEAUTY! FREEDOM! LOVE!? Why do the dreams and passions of youth inevitably get downgraded to pomp and fancy and silly wastes of time – only to be replaced by things like becoming fat, lazy, diseased and overworked? Why do yew lose our Spark for Life when we become husbands, wives, parents, partners, Adults?
Why are we more interested in being sole providers than SOUL providers?
Isn’t anyone else frustrated by this?!? Isn’t anyone else choking on this bullshit called Adulthood? Where are all those Romantics I used to know? What have we done to our innocent souls, and what can do to resurrect them?