I'm sitting here in the middle of the Los Angeles night trying to figure out the story of Rocky Racoon ain visual images for my midterm in Storyboarding.
To get my mind onto something else I rewind my thoughts and frustration to this past Saturday's experience. I was flying home with my two roomates and my girlfriend from Los Cabos and on the plane from New Mexico to Los Angeles it struck me. The feeling and sense of emotion that goes through you when flying in over a major city at night. There's a hidden sense of thoughts when flying in over Los Angeles.
There's always an expectation when flying in over a thousand lights at night. Maybe it doesn't occur from within you or the one's you travel with but rather in the atmosphere of the cabin. Spectators who are still awake in the early night watches out their airplane windows either in expectation or despair. It is though so that the power and creation of human beings is what amazes us at night rather than the skies and starts in above us do since there is a greatness to the size of Los Angeles that people can relate to. Universe is to big and even though it fasinates us it's not ever an end to a journey like a big city like Los Angeles.
What hits me is that it is the forth time flying in over Los Angeles at night and that I am kind of passive to the amazement the thousand or millions of lights have done to me. It might have numbed me from the thrill and greatness I saw two years ago. And instead of being amazed I take the time of preparing for arrival to breath in the calm of the lit out airplane. I am still concerned that time will never be on my side. Protesting night after night that a day is to short when being counted in 24 hours. I always get over my head, I want so much and feel so great potential in my ideas that I rarely find time to embrace them and finish them.
So I use the moment of peace, flying in over La-La Land for myself gathering my thoughts to regain focus and attention needed to create and create over and over again for the purpose of upholding my dreams which point beyond the lights of the Los Angeles night and up to the invisible stars that still amazes me and that I recollected as being the true thing that I miss in Homewood.