Flowings of Your Everlasting Taffyman

I just read this short story my brother wrote. I haven't seen anything he has written in a long time and was surprised by it, by the fact that its entertaining and speaks with a voice that doesn't sound like my brother. That he could put himself in the position of the character... this is not something I normally associate with him. I guess whenever I am reading something by someone I know I assume the narrator has some aspect of the author... but in this case, though I can imagine my brother thinking up the scenario it sounds like some movie character... but like a complete one. One that has a background a history.

I remember sneaking into my other brother's room when I was a teenager and reading his stories. They were different, the character was not him, but it was partially him and so though I didn't understand all the motivations I still understood that this aggressive character was also good.

I feel like its been quite a while since I wrote something I was proud enough to care about. Something I was excited by. Something I felt was truthful, if not of me, then of someone else, or some worldly truth.

But more than that... its been a while since I put myself in the shoes of someone else, at least in writing. I am sure I do this without thinking about 100 times a day... but to do it in writing takes skill... I am not sure I have ever done it well, but lately I feel my skills lacking.
Maybe I just got more comfortable occupying my own thoughts, or maybe I got less empathetic, either was I guess I miss it.

While thinking about this... I also was thinking how I have all of these books I never read. I think I have like 30-40 and I keep buying more.

I don't think my room is a very good space for being creative or reading. I get tired and bored easily here... or I find my computer more stimulating.