Dear Internauts,
Does you ever feel like there are aspects of yourself which, for whatever reason, are ten trillion times harder to adequately express than all the rest?
Like, I've worked as a mail clerk, a funeral assistant, a cashier, a camp counselor, a night auditor, and more, but even while being in those positions, none of those titles felt appropriate to describe even a portion of myself. While a job may take up most of my day, I never felt such a close connection to any of those jobs that saying "I am a (insert job title)" was anywhere close to accurate. Let's call these jobs the "grown-up-kid-jobs".
However, don't we need an answer to the inevitable "what do you do" or "where do you work" or even "what are you"?
(For reference, the answers are "not much", "nowhere without an adapter", and "human last I checked".)
Okay, you may say, but that's just a social norm thing. Small talk. No big deal.
Firstly, I'm an INFP so I don't have the patience or the blood pressure for most small talk. Secondly, I would avoid all social interaction if it weren't for the whole living in a society where I have to sell my labor for the means to trade for goods and services. Thirdly, rule of three.
The truth of it is, though, when working at one of these grown-up-kid-jobs, there's another kind of work that I have to find time and energy for in between all the menial adult-ing. This is the writing kinda stuff or the music kinda stuff or the visual arts kinda stuff.
Did you know I'm working on a novel and a comic and several short stories?
Did you know I'm writing a bunch of poetry and songs? (ok that one you may have known)
Did you know I really feel like a dramatic list only works well if there are at least three examples and above that always an odd number?
My point to all the above nonsense is that I've done a lot of things that have not staying power with my sense of personal identity but they've allowed me to live. At the same time, I've tried to continue doing what I love: creating good art in whatever form or medium may work. The stress, energy, and time necessary to do the first can often leave little of me left for the second. I know I'm not alone in feeling that way. And it's not just the responsibilities of adulthood getting in the way of fun or free time. In fact, while I feel most free and have the most fun while working on or presenting creative projects, it's still very much a job. Several jobs, in fact.
They don't serve as my main source of income, and if we're honest that's where the societal line is drawn between professional and hobbyist. Still, throughout history how many writers, musicians, painters, dancers, sculptors, even olympic athletes went to their day jobs knowing it would never be a good fit. There will always be that tension, that disincorporation, that boiling frustration, that pulsing sense of inadequacy leaning on despair.
There are plenty of folks who, through time and effort, have found a balance wherein the time they can spend on their real flow makes the daily grind somehow worthwhile. It fades into just something they've gotta do, with the fire and the certainty inside to know that they aren't defined solely or even mostly by a job they don't enjoy or can hardly even stand sometimes.
That kinda brave self-assuredness has to be held firm and held high in a place of reverence inside their minds. On a spotlit pedestal yet also right at hand. Like a locket with a picture inside of a person that can achieve big, impossible goals.
We all have some kinda picture of ourselves we look to for clarity. We hold up that image of who we want to be next to our reflection and try to line them up.
For my whole life, I've been an artist, a writer, a musician. I would see where my life was and label myself as whatever role, whether student, clerk, facilitator, or whatever. I'd be that guy who really wanted to be something else. A cashier who'd rather be a songwriter. A psych major who'd rather be a performer. A side dish who'd rather be a good friend.
I don't believe that words alone hold any power. Even the best of intentions fall short of actual proactive movement. Still, from now on I'm gonna try to rearrange some of my words in order to get a little closer to that picture of who I wanna be.
I am an artist.
I am a writer.
I am a musician.
Even when I'm so anxious I can't move. Even when I'm so depressed I can't eat. Even when I'm so drained from being around people all I wanna do is huddle up and watch youtube fail compilations.
Even when my "real job"—here's to hoping I get one soon, right?—takes up so much emotional and physical energy and so much time, I don't feel like I can truly offer anything decent to the content I hope to create. I can still be a content creator.
I am an artist because I make art. A writer because I write. A musician because I create music. Of course, it's more than that. Like a favorite color or season or a gut conscience, there's something in creating which resonates in an inherent and emergent way from within me.
Who cares if it sounds pretentious to some people or doesn't count as a real profession to other people? Who cares what they think? They don't know you like you know you!!!
And that real you, whoever they are or will be or could be or whatever, I'm sure they're awesome and def worth hanging out with.
Thanks,
Odist
p.s. - I'll just come right out and say it: I have a kickstarter. I know, ugh! BUT just think of it as a chance for you and me to work together in making some good art. Maybe even great art! I've joined up with Breakout Artist Group to go to their studio in Cleveland, OH and record a BRAND NEW EP. If you're like me and don't have a diving board over piles of gold coins, that is perfectly alright. Whatever you can give is appreciated. This is gonna be a journey we can walk together over the next month, so if you're interested in helping me pursue this goal, click here for the fundraising page. I'll def keep all you amazing Internauts up to date on this process. I'm wicked grateful for all your eyes, ears, and everything between.
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1610720524/odist-abettor-ep
No comments:
Post a Comment