Stupid pre-seizure twitches.
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Twice, this is not the entry I meant, read the one before this.

There's a sort of art that I want to create that we don't really have the technology for yet. Images, and words, and music, and sensations, scents, sub-harmonics and strange visual flashes, shifting scenes... things that sculpture can't capture, that a single picture can't freeze in place, that a movie isn't dimensional enough to contain, that a song can't ever completely describe. Someday we'll find ways to express everything, record everything, create art out of our dreams, our daily life, our hopes and fantasies and fears, and be certain that anyone who takes the time to look/feel/touch/experience the piece will become part of it, understand what we were reaching for, trying to show. Someday.

Until then... ehh. I'm frustrated with photoshop, my hands are too twitchy to use a mouse well and at the rate things are going it'll be a while still before I can get my dylantin and lorazipam refilled. I can't sing, my voice keeps cracking even when I'm just humming along, I think I strained my throat somehow. o.O My keyboard's put away somewhere, my hands won't hold my pens, even typing requires a fair bit of attention and frequent backspacing... today, the only things I can create are images in my own head. Still, it's better than being unable to create.

I wonder sometimes what it must be like to be someone who doesn't have this Urge, this Need. It must feel... peaceful, calm, to not find yourself all jittery and tense simply because you can't get a picture to look right, or can't draw the curve of a stem or the pattern on a leaf the way you know it should be. Nothing nagging you every moment that you're NOT actively creating, nothing popping up new ideas for stories, pictures, songs, every five minutes, whether you can do anything about the desire or not. In a lot of ways, it must be nice not to have that fire always burning.

And of course, given the choice, I wouldn't ever know. *wry grin* I like my muse even when I hate her, I wouldn't be who I am without the need to express things, pour myself into text and images and melody. It's frustrating, on days like this, yes. I go half-mad simply because I can't freaking DO anything useful. It's still worth it, it's always worth it, just for the hope that someday something I create will strike a chord in someone else's soul, that it will be... shared. That someone else will know they're not alone.

Meh. Gonna go lay back down before I manage to twitch myself out of my chair.

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