The longest journey

 I've been a little busy lately. Oh who am I kidding I've been busy for a long time. The events of the days happen so fast in such rapid succession next to each other that I'm beginning to find it all very tiring. I'm under a serious need to stop myself and think about what it's all for, that kind of stuff. I keep on thinking about going on a long journey, or at least moving my base of operations to somewhere else, maybe in Europe, to study with new people as well as taking in the sights.

I'm currently eying the institutions in Germany or somewhere in that region, maybe even enroll in the SymbioticA course for the time being. I'm sure the credit will be transferable to the colleges in U.S. I think  I might even be moving to Boston soon, so it might be something worth thinking about. I'm coming to realize that I'm usually the happiest when I'm on the move for some reason. 

I haven't been keeping in touch with my family, that is my  mother and father for a long time now. I do keep in touch with my extended family in other parts of the world though. It's rather odd now that I think about it. All I know about my birthparents at the moment is that they are still living within the North America, so I guess that doesn't mean much. I have no wish to see them anytime soon either. All they are are like specters of bad memories and abuses.

I've been thinking about fantasy... Or rather, imaginative worlds a lot lately. In literature scene the d&d and other licensed products (the lord of the rings even) destroyed so much of the people's individuality that you cannot use the word fantasy without evoking scenes of wankers with swords playing around in pseudo-medieval getup. It's really a sad state of things. When I say fantasy writing, I'm really talking about the kind of writing that doesn't happen within the confines of the 'real world', or whatever it is humorless dicks call their shallow interpretation of the world these days. Worlds and ideas that are really 'fantastic' and imaginative, fitting of the namesake. 

When I write, and I do a lot of that these days, I write much better and faster when it's directly from my head, with no regards for facts and figures and equations. No political considerations and no concern about where and when I should use certain types of vocabulary. When I write within soe sort of confine the result tend to come out horrible and I end up spending just as long trying to salvage the whole thing as I spent writing it in the first place. But when I write something off the top of my head, a sort of extended freewrite exercise, I can just go on and on writing about my own thoughts and various imagined situations and characters, and the whole experience brings me such a feeling of fulfillment. I don't know why that is. Maybe it has something to do with all the wanderlust I've been feeling lately.   

I'm thinking, maybe I should really write something. Of course, I write pages after pages of stuff every single day, I'm talking about something more imaginative and dedicated. Something fantastic and coherent. I've been writing little bits and pieces of such musings all over the place now. Like the bits set in the universe of the library of Babel. Or the hundred years of solitude. things set in art schools and laboratories, little bits of poetries and whatnot. Maybe I should try to pour all of those things into a single coherent story, a single universe with such fantastic components. Maybe I can even steal a character or two from my favorite writings, like the script for the adventure game longest journey. I'm even thinking of making a different version of April Ryan as the main character in the world. She'll probably be an art student just like in the original story. Maybe she can major in the field of bioarts, where they use tissue and genetic engineering to create works of art. There would be such wonderful worlds waiting for her.