The borderline tonight

Nov 24, 2007



First blog entry.
There's really no one to read this, but that's all right.
That just gives me less boundaries.

As for Internet friends, I'm desperately afraid of them. Not just because of the whole Internet predator thing (although that helps), but just the idea of not knowing. There have been too many horror stories of liars and broken hearts, and I'm really not that into suspense. It only sounds good in theory. I'm a very mundane person. I'm not a fan of mystery, really. Mary Higgins Clark? Bleh. No thanks.

But all that aside, I really do want to make some friends on here. Please just ignore that rant. Really. It's just me, getting out my crazy fears out on the table for all to see, my heart on my sleeve, so there are no surprises later on.

My name is pretty much like the rest of me, uninspiring and plan, so it's really irrelevant, although I have to have some title because pronouns can get tiresome after awhile. So I'll go by Tripp, because I've always wished my name were Tripper until my mother pointed out that it rhymed with Stripper. So Tripp will do. If anyone's reading this, that is.

About me? I'm 16ish, in high school, with job, nice house, great friends, decent grades, involved... things are pretttty good if I do say so myself.
Except for the fact that they're not.

What does one do when all that they live for could be the most dangerous detour of their life? When who you are gets in the way of whom you aspire to be? When everything I need is distracting me from what I want?

I constantly get lost in routine, a very beautiful routine with nice people and events. But then when I get home and search for a muse, my mind has been sucked dry. Suddenly that's not important. I've got an English project and an 8 hour shift the next day. Opening night of the school play is less than a week away and a good handful of props are still missing. I haven't got actors for my competition piece. My grade in integrated math is dismal. There's no time to create, just work. The mindless, routine kind of work.

And there are so many things I envision in my future, as a star-blinded artist tends to envision. How do you choose between your wants and needs? How are they determined and distinguished? Is creating more important than living?

My real question is this: How real is reality?

Anyway, hopefully I'll meet some like(or perhaps very different)-minded people on this site. Other than my pointless, rhetorical questions, the show rocks. For reals it does.

-Tripp