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Array
(
[sid] => 157939
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Ideas
[time] => 2010-03-06 22:10:54
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => How thrilling, the blank page; bleached white, unblemished, pure. It contains no mistakes of grammar or spelling, no wayward ideas to confuse and tire, no dead-end paths to travel, ending in frustration. The emptiness of the page, before the beginning, holds the promise of great works with endless possibilities to be dreamt of. Free of shape, plot, storyline or tempo, the creator is free to wander his imagination. With the first stroke of pen or key however, the fantasies end. Possibilities diminish and focus is required. Insecurity replaces the joy of the dream as the writer puts to paper, the activities of his mind. A once blank page now exposes flawed concepts and insufficient talent. They’re in there, the ideas; They haunt and taunt the mind, screaming to be told. They demand their own existence, constantly struggling for escape without understanding that the mind they occupy may not have the means. So long as the paper remains blank, ideas flourish, they’re alive and there’s hope for them. But once committed to the limitations of words, ideas become hopelessly entangled in doubt, clarity is blurred by uncertainty and meaning is lost to ineptitude. But ideas no more go away than they materialize. They multiply, each new one replacing the last in importance, each becoming the one that will finally escape, to be captured on a blank page, to come alive for other minds to explore. For every moment they’re confined, ideas fester and infect the mind in which they reside. They never cease, but bang incessantly on the bars of their cages, tormenting their captor who is himself held a prisoner by incompetence. He would gladly free them if only he knew how. Were he able, he’d wrench them from his head and splatter them on a page, with little regard for the form they might assume, so as to be rid of them. He would eagerly trade his lamentable imaginings for the sluggish mind of a light-hearted simpleton. So he says to himself; "Never again pick up the paper! it’s the action that triggers the sadness. Leave the pen in its place and move on to worthy achievement; to attainable goals within the reach of character and ability." [comments] => 0 [counter] => 106 [topic] => 75 [informant] => Greenpostit [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => anguished )
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