So anyway, here I am on my 80th post and to say I'm in a bit of a funk would be a monumental understatement. Like Herr Vogler, I too am experiencing something of a personal artistic crisis (though admittedly, I still have no idea what's bugging you Brad and I just talked to you yesterday for fucks sake! - my bad, sorry about not asking...some friend!). For me, I'm simply at a crossroads in my life, a horrifying prospect of a crossroads, but a crossroads nonetheless. I've come to the realization as of late that I may have to give up on any thoughts of ever being a composer. There...I've said it (that actually hurt a little). It's a difficult decision and one I'm going to take a plethora of time making.
Should I hold on to my dreams, be patient, and wait for circumstances to improve so that I might resume being an artist once again? Or should I accept an unfortunate inevitability that the position I've placed myself into leaves little room for me to pursue my life's ambition. With my son, I've discovered a new found wealth of patience. I honestly didn't know I had it in me. So, should I apply that to my aspirations and wait for a potential time in the (hopefully) not-so-distant future when I can begin composing again? Or should I acquiesce to the idea that my devotion to my family won't allow for personal pursuits of this nature any longer. Am I an awful person for allowing the most important people in my universe to become a crutch this way? (That's a rhetorical question btw)
It might be easy to an outside observer to simply say, "For God's sake man, just go and write something!". But I would reply that things just aren't that simple. I could ramble on with a list of excuses why I can't "get my groove on". But that would be shallow, and relatively pointless. Suffice it to say that my life is my life and my problems are my own and not yours (whomever you may be) and in the end, I'm the only one who can relate to my situation because it is unique to me. I've regrettably made the proverbial bed and now I'm sitting next to it wishing I could get in and get just a couple more hours sleep. I don't blame anyone for my woes. I chose to work on this damned graveyard shift in this damned place. I donated the baby batter that resulted in that wonderful little creation of mine. It's just, well, I'm in a rut...a deep rut. A giant, gaping, seemingly bottomless chasm of a rut, with spikes layering the bottom (wherever it is). I know perfectly well that mine is a profession where you make something happen. Unfortunately, I've tried, and my failures thus far dismally outweigh my successes.
Now before anyone gets any ideas of commenting with opinions or ideas, don't. I don't want them. If you want to use a comment to relate in your own personal way, fine. Anything beyond that will only aggravate my disposition further. I hate the idea of using my blog to poor my heart out...but what the hell, it's not as if I've had anything else to write about lately. This is all your fault Brad...you're the one who nagged me for a new post. Well, ok, not really, but blaming you anyway brings a hint of a smile to my face.
Long, hard, deep reflection is where I'm at at this point (that almost got kind of dirty!). I need to continue to think, and weigh the consequences of whatever action I decide to take. So...this won't be my last post, but unless something extraordinary happens, it'll be the last one for a little while. Who knows, maybe something absolutely hilarious will occur tomorrow forcing me to post on it, thus making a total liar out of me. But for now, I'm out.
Peace out yo!
