Ghost of an Artist

As an artist, I do absolutely nothing. I have many books about photography, two broken digital cameras, hundreds of pictures saved on my computer, and three rolls of undeveloped film. I also have 3/4’s of a roll on my Holga cam, but I am blind. I don’t see anything worth the effort. I have a book about the anatomy of the human body, as done by and for the artist. I sketched a nice altered copy for some thing or another. I have so many supplies. Markers. Pens. Pencils. Pastels. Brushes. Watercolor paints. Paper. Sketchbooks. I own four Moleskines; three for drawing and sketching; one for small watercolor prints. One Moleskine has some pages filled, the watercolor has an incomplete sketch or two, and the others remain blank. I have quite a portfolio of creative undated work from early adolescence, and files upon files of drawing from my early youth.

As a creative writer, I do nothing. I have quite a few unfinished stories from my early youth, and many false starts from my adolescence. The only exception is the 20 or so space adventure story from 5th grade. I never attempted poetry, because my rhyming skills are poor. I don’t like poetry. But yes surely I have hundreds of journal pages; catalogs of all the things distracting me from my passions – my damages and laments.

As a musician, I fall upon non-existent ears. I know three scales on the piano, and the c major chord. I know the names of all six strings on the guitar. I have a few made up melodies of my own on the low and high e strings. I know how to hold a pick well whenever I do get around to practicing. I know what a treble clef looks like as well as bass clef. I can draw a grand staff, although it’s a bit fuzzy. I learned the “Twinkle Twinkle” song as well as “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” because that is what Andrew Furmanzyk taught in his first two lessons. He’s been playing piano since he was five, and plays his own music and everything – swell guy he is.  I can also do nice improv on the harmonica.

As an activist I don’t read the pedagogy literature I need to read. I said I would read Alfie Kohn and John Taylor Gatto, but I hardly got through the two pedagogy books I do own. To understand my opponents, I only managed to get through 21 out of 60 minutes of the conference explaining what the common core standards are. I follow three news papers for awareness of mainstream education news. I read a lot of articles and blog posts about alternative education in the early days of my discovery of it.

As an avid reader, I don’t know what book to choose next. I haven’t read a book for about a month now.

As an organized person, I don’t know how to pack up for college. I have a disorganized file box, the first file box I’ve ever owned. It was my attempt at knowing what I am doing.

I long to be like the boy or girl who grew up in a family of so-and-so’s. Their life’s path were handed to them. Can’t I just shut up and CHOOSE something already? Can’t I fulfill? Can’t I actualize something without feeling that I betray the rest? Can’t I be expected to do something, without feeling it is a chore? Why do I fear the obligation, the feeling that if I work hard for my own ideals, someone will come along and FORCE me to do it?

I run out of time everyday. And I fear sleep, as it leads me to the next day. Another day of failure, and a job undone.

This is what FEAR
[Anxiety, Inefficiency, Depression, Impotence, Procrastination, Anger, Regret, Inertia, whatever you want to call it] does to me. It’s all chalked up to fear. It holds on tight, consuming me and decaying me, promising it will always be with me, and it just may never let go.

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Posted on August 14, 2010, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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