Before the impetus doth pass me by

I was having a good conversation with a friend of mine concerning life etc and what we're both dealing with at the moment. At present, amongst many melodramatic things, I have a distinct lack of motivation. Let me back up...

I used to blog a lot, I had a livejournal and apparently some of my friends still use theirs to keep up with each other. At one point, I think I had accounts with Livejournal, the old Blogger, myspace, and facebook all at the same time. not super-odd or anything, but I'm not a 14-year old with no life. I'm 24 and have no life, small difference there. At any rate, I eventually subconsciously said something to the affect of "I'm living in existentialism and there's little point to writing about just 'being.' Philosophers have done that for millenae and look where it got them."

At any rate, back to present. My friend asked me what I wanted to do with my life, assuming all the problems went away.

"I'd like to write."
"So why don't you? If you wait for everything to be right until you write, you'll never write anything."
"Good point."

So this is the attempt at starting up writing again. Hopefully not the random spew of gobbley-gook that I used to do - although I'm sure there will be plenty of that - but the musings that I have and an attempt to codify them into coherent writings with a purpose. Existentialism only lasts until death, so here's to having more than 'being' to be remembered for.