11:59 AM

Never like this. We had run before, but never like this. Sang before, but never like this. Felt before, but never like this.
And what is feeling? Passion is simply the opposite of apathy.
Visible visible visible. I speak in hazy terms, of .....
So here's the dilemma. I just finished a play and I have no characters. No plot or setting, nothing calls to me "write this write now". Except one idea: hope. I want to explore hope. I want to try to convince myself that ignorance is not an ingredient in hope's creation. I am someone aware of the beauty, every night I drive home towards a mountain and watch the sunset. And each night, pop music blaring shamelessly, windows down, and newly-cut hair pointing towards the sky, I appreciate it. This homeward drive has occurred every night (or nearly) for the last two weeks. So what?
Throw throw throw.
I'm trying to remember how to write. I've spent the year getting rusty. Essays? I now have that formula down. But where did these characters use to call from? If I ask myself to write (bid it), do I lack the need? I think, before I can write I need to come up with some opinions, some beliefs, or at least the questions with which I wish to toy.
I also think I want to write about totalitarianism. I think. So...hope and totalitarianism? Could work. There was a story from a while ago, based off a dream that's been playing in the back of my mind for almost 3 years, maybe it's time has come. Or I could finally commit to the novel I started a while ago. I need some motivation.
Politics and, possibly, hope. Sounds good.