Search For Inspiration: Originality vs. Familiarity

Music: "Hero" by Regina Spektor

People walk distracted with their own voices clouding up their minds. They don't bother checking their watches anymore. They move freely and easily with a sense of direction I often find myself envying. Sometimes I listen to them while other times I play music as if it were a background noise filler to an ever-moving silent movie. Passing by coffee houses-- one trying to outdo its neighbor in flair and style-- I see people drinking tea and coffee, eating baked goods and sitting idly by as the chaos falls around them in nice little rainbow fragments. Fragments that if they only looked at them with a slight tilt of their head they can finally see the truth in those words that they say.

Impulse strikes first, I find. No one ever truly thinks before they speak. At least I have never met, nor have I seen, someone who does. People react first and then keep moving. Thinking often comes later, if it comes at all. Everything moves so fast. So many changes and updates it can make my head spin round.

Finding insperation in reality causes me to feel jumbled on the inside--mentally. Often I wonder if my brain just isn't on the same wavelength as theirs. I watch how people dress and I watch how they move their head, look at people, or even enunciate certain vowels when speaking. This often makes me feel like a stalker but I suppose I'm not since I'm not watching one particular person. Nor am I following them. When they get up to leave I stay behind.

People change in my mind as I blend their traits with another's. I listen for names that sound different. Borrow letters from a boy's named Adam and a girl named Allison. Combine them together in sweet embrace to find the name Addison.

And yet, deep down, in the midst of my playing, nothing feels unique anymore. It has all been done before by another. Is it true when my terrible Professor once said "There are no new stories" ? All that does is take my hopes away from me.

And I'm brought back down to reality again.


~~

Imgaes come, and Images go.
The sweet song of the night is the only one who knows.