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The music in me.

Nights like this, my mind's alive. Nights like this, my mind goes wild.

Lately, I've been searching for variety in my means of creative expression. With my writing, I rarely force it. I wait for the inspiration to wake me up at midnight, or naturally come to me when I least expect it. The only problem I have with this is the inconsistency at which the "subjects" of my cathartic releases land in my mind. I guess it takes the mind some time to gather enough qualitative data from the world around you, your experiences and to analyse it well enough that your intuition can create positive schemas about the world. I guess those are the things I write about here right?