An Alternate Reality

I’ve been trying to write this entry for the past couple of days and I actually wrote two drafts of it in my head, the second this morning when I was getting dressed. For some reason I couldn’t bring myself to write it though, not that it’s that hard to write; I was just really lazy. I’ve been sort of detached from reality for a while it started around last week when I just couldn’t focus on my work anymore. However that’s perfectly normal; I always get bored and annoyed when I have an overwhelming amount of work that I need to get done, which is always around this time in the semester. But this time it’s different, on Monday and Tuesday I went back to a place I hadn’t gone to in years, I felt that I was living outside of my own body, like I was living in a world other than the real world, a world that only exists in my head.

That brings me to the real topic of this entry, which is: reality vs. fiction. Reality, a notion I truly detest and so often try to avoid versus the fictional world of art, movies, music and my imagination. My whole life I loved watching movies and television series (I’m more of a drama person, always preferred it to comedy, but that irrelevant right now), because for me I can easily lose myself in them. I can become the characters. I can live inside the film itself. And the more I watch the more I’m detached from reality and the more I’m isolated and transported into some form of alternate reality that can only exist within me. I realize that I sound very cryptic and that this is turning into science fiction, but bear with me.

For as far back as I can remember I have been able to take myself out of my life and into a life that I have created for myself, a life which I can control and where I can be whoever I want and wherever I please. The more realistic this pseudo-reality becomes the more detached, isolated, relaxed and alive I become. The problem however with being in this high is that you can easily lose yourself in it, therefore you are not only living with half a mind but it also starts affecting your true reality, your real life. As much as I’ve enjoyed being absent-minded for the past few days; I kind of feel guilty about it, because there was a shit-load of crap I needed to finish that I haven’t even started.

This escape from reality for me is a relief, and it is also the way I’ve remained sane, to an extent, for all those years. What truly allows me to be in this state of mind is music. The second I put my headphones on I’m immediately somewhere else. The loud music drowns any other existing sound around me, which allows me quickly and easily to temporarily virtually exist in a different place. That place is usually somewhere far away from my apartment, even if it’s somewhere I’ve been to before, however that’s usually not the case. I’m usually in a place that I would love to visit. Sometimes I’m even in that place alone. Sometimes I really need to be left alone; if that’s the case though I’m usually somewhere near the water, or in it. I really miss the beach. Sometimes I would be doing the wildest things imaginable, some of which are pretty hazardous to my health and/or life. But in the end I’m still actually at home with my iPod. When I write all of this down I may sound a little crazy, however, this state of mind keeps me from going mad. I suppose getting high on music beats getting high on drugs, so at least I have that going for me.  

When I’m focused on work and life and my everyday routine, I either become numb or confused   or worried. When I was younger I never worried about the future, mostly because it always felt so far away, but nowadays worrying about the future is probably what I do all day. It’s exhausting. I’m studying politics, which is interesting to study but not something I would ever be willing to work in, and journalism. I love to write, the thing is what to write about. I’m not passionate about politics, I never was, and I never cared about the news or the endless amount of problems in the world. I love art; art is what I’m passionate about and art is what makes my heart sing and allows me to breathe. Music, movies, literature these are some of the forms of art that for me are the source of life and inspiration. They inspire my alternate state of mind and drive me to turn fiction into reality. That’s how I can feel everything at the same time; how I can think clearly when my focus is actually clouded.  

 When I observe the lives of not only the characters but the people who give life to these characters and the people who allow me to get high off music, for me they are pursuing their passion not a career. I don’t know what I want to do with my life; I know what I don’t want though. You may think I’m a little shallow or vapid or even completely mental, which can sometimes be true, but after years of being depressed I think I deserve a little joy even if it means I need to be a little vapid to get it. I don’t think being passionate about art or being in love with music or being immersed in movies is a negative thing even if it affects reality. Because for me the harder reality gets the more real fiction becomes. This blog is entitled Art & Life, and this entry is the clearest way to express the effect of art on my life and how passionate I am about it. Writing this has put me in a better state of mind and has taken a very heavy load off my back. This is also probably the most personal and most expressive blog entry I have ever written. I’m usually more private, but for some reason after the past couple of days I felt I wanted to share this with whoever may be reading it.

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