Destination: HapVal

Sometimes, I just need a temporary escape from the "real world,"
and that is why God created the Happy Valley.

No blogs for a week-ish.
Blogs mean contemplation.
Contemplation means thinking.
I want no thoughts for the next week...
...just impulses, feelings, energies...
...just friends, bonding, lack of negativity...
...just booze, dancing, and ludicrousness...
...just me and the Happy Valley, back on good terms.

Though, I don't really have much to be "escaping" from on this occasion. Last visit, I had plenty that needed evaded and matters haunting and plaguing my brain.

Presently, life is being very kind to me.
To complain would reflect ingratitude.
I am finally at peace and have found peace.

I am currently in the midst of one of my necessary hermitages. When things get too crazy, I withdraw. If I feel a loss of control, sanity, or something of importance is imminent, I retreat to the sanctuary of my basement, where I spend my time creating. I photoshop, write, paint, draw, etc. etc. etc. I turn to Mr. Dylan, Mr.(s) Lennon and McCartney, Mr.(s) Floyd, and many other gurus for advice. ["How do I level this mess out, dear sirs?"] With hot tea, Chimes of Freedom, and paintbrush in hand, I somehow inevitably reach my "moment of clarity." After feeling relatively certain that I can maintain, I re-emerge from the ashes as the phoenix, and head back into the "outside world."

This visit to the HapVal will be that foray. However, I am transitioning into almost direct opposition... from reclusiveness to overwhelming insanity and vastly social situations. Hopefully I won't feel/behave awkwardly. Nobody likes a wallflower.

I do believe I want to learn how to play the guitar. I have fumbled with the instrument before, and had little to no success. I always gave up shortly after the attempts began out of frustration.
I used to write songs, but never with instrumental accompaniment, as my piano key-striking days were numbered, and I lacked the ability to play another instrument. [Unless you count the recorder, which we were forced into in the fourth grade. I could play a mean "This is My Country."] However, I should like to begin writing songs again. Never for playing in public. Personal posterity. Secretive catharsis. I can't even remember any of the ones previously written. New beginnings. I like those. Individual renaissance.

This blog has worn out its welcome.
I have gone from waxing philosophic to rambling.
Goodnight.