Watching "Moulin Rouge" evokes daydreams about migrating to a country such as France or Spain or Switzerland, a place full of culture and arts, and living an existance of writing, acting, creating. I feel inspired to just write, to let my imagination run wild, and feed upon whatever impulses are derived; to let creativity flow and not be worried about how it turns out, and not let myself be stopped by any thoughts of logic or reason. I feel like running away to a great new land, to explore something new, and become someone totally different from who I am, but not so different from who I'd like to be. Colour, vision, painting, music, singing, a whirlwind of excitement, larger than any life I've known.

Yet sometimes, creativity is so hard to release yourself into. It's so hard to just let go, and pour your soul into a piece of music, or into pages of writing... because the more you express of yourself, the more open + vulnerable you leave yourself to being hurt. But sometimes is it worth the risk of being hurt, to allow yourself that one, carefree moment where creativity becomes alive, for the sake of giving in to an inspiration?

I remember, several year ago, when a friend and I discussed the possibility of going away together for a few days, with nothing around us except a beach and a landscape to provide inspiration to write. The idea was that given time, and take away all the distractions of life, and we'd come up with endless possibilities to write about, sing about, and invent. Sometimes I wonder if that might be the way to go, if it means creating something worthwhile. I know it's there. I just need to find it.