When I sit down
It never fails to surprise me how once I sit down to write something, my brain clears. I’ve had sparse moments where I realize something I’d like to notarize, yet the second I get a chance to write something here it all vanishes. I don’t know if it is because of my memory, or my dopamine circuit being out of whack, but it leads to some strange feelings.
On one hand I feel sadness looking back at a dead flame of something I was motivated to do, but on the other hand I’m partially grateful for the transience of thoughts. I think life would lose a bit of it’s charm if every moment was perfectly recorded; in having this inherent temporality living in the moment has all that much more meaning.
But a part of me does envy those creators who are able to consistently create something from their thoughts and put it out there for others to see. That persistence is something I admire jealously.