Friday, May 9, 2008
A Burning Desire to Create
It just so happens that every once in a while I find myself amidst the delusion of having a somewhat normal life, but it's days such as today that I am forced to realize that I will never be one with the masses. I could never be content spending a life in a cubicle or chained to a desk without knowing that I made an impact. I can only describe this wonderlust as a burning desire to create something. My life feels somewhat out of place. I sometimes feel like an artist who was mistakenly born as a construction worker. The son of a plumber, I am neither artist nor pipe fixer extraordinaire. I am a jack of all trades, with passable performances at everything I choose to do, yet I am a master of nothing.
I love to listen to music with the volume turned up high to drown out the melancholy and mundane thoughts that swirl around in my head. I sometimes chase them off with alcohol when they become too much and the static is all I can hear or feel. This is a level of honesty that some may not be comfortable with. I am comfortable with that. Is it a weakness? Not now, not yet. I don't drink regularly enough, I don't even keep the pantry well stocked with booze. Sometimes it's months upon months before a bottle shows up. I don't drink beer. I think it tastes the way sweaty feet smell. Though, if you were to offer me one, I would drink socially with you and we would have a good time.
It's days such as today that find me longing for a group of artistic friends who share my desire to make short movies, who don't find the idea of walking down the street filming an impromptu musical ridiculous, who would enjoy creating music and putting together music videos that actually say something without saying anything at all.
I long to write, but I am afraid. I find all the minute errors and failings of the stories I read and I think to myself, "I can do better than this!" In all actuality, be it truth or fiction, I actually do think I could... if only I would. But I don't. Why do I hold myself to such high standards that I don't allow anything at all to come out? My last two victories were mind-boggling. They were such grand successes because... because they were. They didn't evaporate into the ether. In that alone, they were tremendous stepping stones on a path to realizing my dreams.
I'm foolish, I know. I have lived my life thus far with the idea in my head that I was different, that somehow I was bound for greatness. I have always felt that somewhere out there was a grand purpose for my life. Does everyone else feel the same way? Is it childish to think that I could have any more impact than anyone else?
Throughout history there have been men and women who were great, not for their moral fortitude or for their contributions to humanity, but merely because they aspired and their actions reflected their aspirations. Many of our stories depict the unwilling hero, the man or woman or girl or boy who have been thrust into an adventure that has taken hold and refuses to let them go. They can press on or they can forfeit, and who wants to read about people who forfeit? But our lives seldom throw such situations at us. When they do the adventures are never quite so grand. In fact, we may forfeit without ever knowing the true impact of our decisions.
Creative Writing Prompt:
None today. If you must, use the rhapsodic flailing of pent up creativity that emerged this afternoon as a doodle just above my right knee. I get the impression that no one actually uses these prompts anyway, but because they add something visual and interesting to the posts, they remain.