Lately, I find in myself an increasing unrest. It seems as though everyone around me is rapidly succumbing to lives of regulated debt and predictable career paths. I have always been uneasy with the prospect of a life in one place or a career without creative freedom (or even a career at all).
My mind at this point is a cluttered mess of half formed dreams and "clever" ideas. How am I expected to create something logical out of partially written songs and scraps of paper with my nightmares scrawled illegibly on them?
I went to Mexico recently, with the goal of trying to sort this situation out. I figured the warm weather and the spicy food would rekindle the creative spark and I would return home to a well laid out plan. What I came home with was a parasite and a duffel bag full of hot sauce stained napkins with pen and ink sketches on them. I guess what I realized was what I already know. I am an artist, and maybe revealing this not so secret statement will hold me accountable at least to the four people that view this site.
2 comments:
Take some comfort or encouragement in the fact that your scattered "clever" ideas have a ton of support from the people close to you.
I'm not succumbing to predictability, despite what it may seem like. I still have erratic tendencies - you just wait and see. I'm glad you've come to terms with the fact that you're an artist (I don't think you're tracing anymore). Now we just need to finalize that get rich quick scheme....
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