A girl at the place that I work has a vivid shock of red hair. 

I'm such a sucker for colour, and she has blue eyes. Its a battle trying to resist bringing this up at every opportunity; "the colour harmony of your eyes and hair is just stunning". 

I don't think I know her well enough yet. And besides, she surely knows it.

I have alot of creative energy at night and its a curse.
Some people have a magic switch in their heads that sends them off to sleep as soon as they hit linen. I'd give alot to have a switch like this, I'm the owner of a mind that becomes disobediently productive during the early hours of day.

So it's 2.34 AM and here I am, this is my change of tactic. What's the use of lying in bed trying in vain to quell the busy train station in my head? It's a stubborn refusal to ignore the clattering carriages of ideas and it leads to an endless train of thought.
It reached the point where I became aware of the pressure, the dull ache at the back of my eyes. It was my eyeballs darting around, tracing crazy zig zags behind closed lids. I could tell I would be there all night chasing trains.

My daytime activity has become extremely productive, I suppose I should be glad. These last few days I must have spent 24 hours out of 48 working on a short visual piece. A visual piece for some music I completed a day before that. I'm pleased with my output, but I'm not the slightest bit interested in stopping for breath. That's odd.
It's becoming obsessive. I can work solidly all day, I see these luminescent pixels more than I see human contact. There's nowhere for any physical energy to go. Fingernails are clipped down to the quick each day, this is the only way I'll not bite them into bleeding stumps. There's no saving my lips though. Moments of intense focus are the worst, I'll be concentrating too hard to notice my teeth tearing involuntarily through soft flesh. Talk about nasty habits...

Right now most other people will be using their creative energy to fuel their dream-time entertainment. I can only hope this catharsis has been of some use, if my subconscious decides it's time for more playtime I'll be exhausted come morning.

If you've ever experienced an emotion or a state of mind so strongly that you felt the profound need to retell your experiences to your contemporaries, then you are like me.

If you are, you may well be familiar with the frustrating sense of verbal impotence.

I am not good with words, verbal expression is something I am not good at, however I'm always almost unstoppably drawn to a vain attempt at description.

Have you ever had a sudden moment of clarity, one of those rare moments where you encounter something wonderful then suddenly it dawns on you that this was what so and so was on about? That arresting sense of identification with that person? Its only this moment, knowing in your head you know exactly what they did, where you might come realise how feebly inadequate words are, or at the very least how desensitized we have been to them- remembering that conversation, realising that it identifies with what you're feeling now, and then the perplexing feeling that what was told to you was by no means adequate at all.

Blimey. This is exactly what you were talking about. How could I not realise what this felt like? Its exactly how you described it, but... more! Much much more! I like feeling a strong identification with people like this, like you have shared something special.

I created this blog to write down important things to me. Sometimes I would scribble thoughts into the back of a notebook, but the results are messy and hard to read.
The things I write are my thoughts and feelings, I don't gaurantee an interesting read, and I don't gaurantee that the subject matter will interest anyone either. I just need a place to write these things down for myself, so if anyone else is reading, hi!
any comments are welcome.