O Creativity, Where Art Thou?

It's 20.29 in my Mac's clock, I've just come home from a movie and dinner with my loved ones. The house is really quiet. Most of my family have gone to the mosque, I guess. Hm. I think I've never been this alone in my house. It's nice, sometimes. I don't hear noises from my brother's computer, or the sound of tv blaring from the living room below. It's like I'm in a quiet corner of my mind, absorbing the solitude.
Hmmm. I miss writing. It's been a while since I wrote anything but complaints. I want to write something decent, something joyous--if not rich, something.. alive. Maybe I should start a journal. Yes, a diary, a new one. And maybe vow to myself that I won't turn it into another garbage disposal. Like this blog, for instance. It started as a media for me to write anything I wanted. Now all you can find here is just complaints. Endless rant of how miserable my life is, while it actually isn't.
I want to be.. creative, again. I want to open my mind to the sound of the wind; the gentle night breeze and not complain about the heat. Like a scene in The Matrix where Neo learned to jump over buildings. I want to jump over rivers, oceans. I want to do the impossible.
I want my mind to be free.