Writing to reach you

Most people have longtime dreams and hopes that they never get to fulfill, and hooray, I am no exception. I've had quite a few of those dreams about what I wanted to reach in the (near) future, all on the creative side of the spectrum. When I was about eight years old my aim was to become great at drawing stuff, anything really. When it came to drawing during the special drawing hours every day I was teh shitz. Especially my pictures of trees turned heads, mine looked quite real, especially when compared to the vague stickfigurelike shapes that could best be described as tumbleweeds. When I was twelve I went to the school for big kids, though my test scores said I'd be best off on a lower level my parents went ahead and aimed one level above what the teachers said I should go to. I already had this weird superiority complex that made me think even that was aiming too low, but hey, I'm speshul remember ? My interrests shifted from drawing to writing. Pretty soon my personality changed from "the funny kid" to "the silent secluded kid" and believe it or not, my cute blond hair turned dark brown and my angelesque blue eyes went a stale grey. Depression was born. Soon I was writing dark, sad poems all over my school planner, where my homework should be. Ofcoarse I still scribbled little pics to go with the poems, but that's all they were, doodles. From writing poetry and lyrics I took a few stabs at writing stories. Now the problem with that is that I think and talk to myself a lot...in English. My thoughts are all in English, German, even French. The latter two I don't even speak very well, hell, I'm happy I can get stuff across in English. So I finished the highest level possible without getting into Latin and Ancient Greek, I took Art instead. All or most of the teachers at this school were either highly esteemed scientists or annoying treehugging hippies...yup, I took Art. Pretty soon I noticed there was nothing Art about Art, just skill and no meaning, realism and no symbolism, so again I doodled lots and snippeted more. So here I am, playing online games at night, working during the day in a job I took for the summer until Uni started...4 years ago. I'm still writing poems and lyrics, still writing stories I never finish, drawing sketches that never get done. I've also started writing movie scenes and have started a script you may have read a bit of a long while back in my blog. I'm taking pics too, I bought my second camera a few (6?) months back and have shot about 100 pics with it, I've hit a bit of a slump you could say. So what do I hope to be(come) ? I'm going to be a famous screenplay writer that directs and sometimes takes on little roles in his own films. I'll also be having an album out with soft rock music with a melancholic undertone. My plan to die young kinda backfired after the 6th failed attempt so I guess I'll be an old rich geezer that lives in the past and curses all progress. I'll die with a smile on my face knowing I ruined the lives of those that hazed me and ofcoarse cos of the 10 dollar hookers wrapped around me as I grab my left arm. "Men die, but sorrow never dies; The crowding years divide in vain, And the wide world is knit with ties of common brotherhood in pain." -Sarah Chauncey Woolsey | posted by merc, 2:23 PM