I'm continually frustrated by my inability to produce anything of worth. I have ideas that I think are worthwhile; my mind even sometimes journeys to a plain that I find impressive. But, when it comes to articulating those ideas I'm encumbered by a horribly under-fed education, a lack of time for contemplation and, let's face it, a lack of talent.
Picture, if you will, a massive funnel. Its wide open mouth is looking heavenward, gazing towards the blue skies of knowledge. At the bottom of the funnel is a tiny, almost nonexistent hole. As the skies give way to the dark thunder heads of stormy fact, a deluge of enlightenment rains down. The open mouth of the funnel, which is my mind, manages to catch a significant portion of the deluge: philosophies, theories; the liquid drops of thought. Unfortunately the funnel's thirst far exceeds its capacity to ingest - the water is unable to pass through its narrow throat.
A frustratingly small drizzle of thought manages to get through, and ends up as the petty meanderings that make it into this diary.
What then of the slowly filling funnel? What if its contents spill? Madness?