Inside the Mind of a Nathan

Well now. It's a whole new season. I don't know if you can sense your own changes, but I feel like a new creature all over again. I don't know what I'm even doing here though. I should be in some quiet, secluded room; I should be writing for Seven Colors if not for Meadowvale — but I'm not gonna get into that now. Have you gone to a library recently? It is striking to see how the only silent room is one corner shoved in the back. I lament the loss of silence. I think we're malnourished when it comes to silence.

Do you ever feel the need to stretch your legs? Do you ever just feel like you need to find more space? You need to go out and see scenery, walk on paths, and hear animals. Writing is like that for me — real writing anyway.

I cannot tell you how many seasons have been packed into this short season of my life. In under one year, I have experienced like five years worth of experiences. I recently had a game night with some old friends. As I was driving to where we would be hanging out, it struck me vaguely but poignantly that I was a whole new creature. I'm not completely 100% different, but it's like Pokemon: Pikachu is quite different from Pichu, and Raichu is quite different from Pikachu. They're in the same evolutionary series, but — especially if you've played the games — they're quite different. Now, imagine some series of like one-hundred changes, and it's been more than that. I have a lot of the same, old habits. I don't look much different. My name is still the same and whatnot. However, it is both like thin veils have been peeled off, and new layers of paint have been brushed on. I don't know if you've ever painted, but if you've done some kind of pr...