| | i've lost my will to art. perhaps i shall take up sociology or computer science.
edit::
've spent more of my time at college pursuing a hobby than considering
a life for myself. If I wasn't working toward an imaginary life, I was
focusing on what I've hoped were potentially unbreakable bonds; as of
now, I cannot judge whether or not this focus was in vain or not. Not
yet anyway. To say it was all a waste, even if we do lose touch with
each other down the line, would be a shameful and hearless claim. What
I've learned from my friends, boyfriends, "spouses", fellow spies,
castmates, sisters, and brothers is more valuable and contributory to
my life than probably any lesson I obtained from a class.
It's
weird to think I've changed at all while being at college, let alone in
any sort of drastic way. People are what make us who we are, as well as
experiences or rather how we deal with situations that present
themselves in our lives. "We are", as Chuck Palahniuk put it in his
novel Invisible Monsters,
"unoriginal. We are the combined efforts of everyone we know". Without
pain and heartache from life and people I could be weaker and/or less
jaded. Without the good I would not know Christ's love, nor any other
kind. Without the bad I wouldn't know love either.
To quote "Dawson's Creek" might seem trite, but I feel like Joey Potter said it best.
"And now that this scared little girl no longer follows me wherever I
go, I miss her. I do. 'Cause there are things I wanna tell her... to
relax, to lighten up, that it is all going to be ok. I want her to know
that meeting people who like you, who understand you, who actually
accept you for who you are, will become an increasingly rare
occurrence. Jen, Jack, Audrey, Andie, Pacey, and Dawson. These people
who contributed to who I am, they are with me wherever I go, and as
history gets rewritten in small ways with each passing day, my love for
them only grows. Because the truth is... it was the best of times.
Mistakes were made, hearts were broken, harsh lessons learned, but all
of that has receded into fond memory now. How does it happen? Why are
we so quick to forget the bad and romanticize the good? Maybe it's
because we need to believe that the time we spent together actually
meant something, that we were there for each other in a time in our
lives that defined us all, a time in our lives that we will never
forget. I can't swear this is exactly how it happened. But this is how
it felt."
Those names can be
replaced with any friend's name. Cara, Josh, Matthias, Rusty, Pose, D,
Dave, Terry, Jenn, Tory, Latino, Kristen, Jeff, Brett, Watson, Abi, Amber, Maria, Katers,
Dan, Bada, MJ, Schownir, Rayls, Missy, Leasey, Devin, Fansie. It
could be anyone. College. Elementary. High school. The possibilities
are endless, but all of these people have shaped my life, and these
aren't the only ones.
As I am, I've lost a part of me, that I
think I'm ok with being gone for a while. Theatre at Huntington has
done something to me I did not expect. Over the last five semesters I
have watched a part of myself get killed. I've watched as my love for
theatre died. I've watched as my will "to art" (as a verb) has slowly
faded. I have no desire to create. No desire to inspire through
performance. No desire to move my voice. No desire to move my hands to
create new things. My mind may whir with a new story idea, but I just
let it fizzle. I see no need to get it out. It serves no purpose.
I was musing to myself this weekend as I reflected on my removal of
theatre from my life and wondered, "will I go to the Brett's last
guerilla?" "Will I write poetry with her as promised?" "Do I break a
promise to Brett to keep one to myself?" "Where do I draw the theatre
line?" I think I'm learning that it's not about theatre specifically.
Theatre is the start; theatre is the key component to a greater
situation. Theatre has killed a larger portion of me than just theatre.
It has destroyed my love "to art". It has not destroyed my love OF art,
just to it. I don't want it as a part of who I am anymore. I can
acknowledge its greatness in others and the greatness of what others do
with it, but I cannot have it for my own. Not for a while. I'm sure
some day art will move back into my life, but the sobatical I am taking
from it is seemingly healthy as it is right now.
I feel no
want to sing. I feel no want to act. I feel no want to draw. To paint.
To write a new idea. To create. To explore. I just want to live my life
as anyone else and that be that.
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| | Posted 12/2/2007 11:23 PM - 27 Views - 0 eProps - 0 comments
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