paint your life
there's a point at which your life is either art or it isn't. where YOU, as an artist, are either an artist or you aren't. i've been content with allowing myself to think of myself as less than what i am for too long. and now that i realize who i am and what i am, so much more makes sense to me.
i may not be the best painter or writer or singer (although i CAN sing and i CAN write and i CAN cook - painting - notsomuch), but i am still an artist. at my core, this is part of what defines me. it may not be what puts meat on my table at any point in my life, but it also may just be....and i'm open to that. i've cracked the door to being used for my artistic gifts rather than just my more 'practical' ones. the arts are what light me up inside - not being able to administrate some tasks or figure out how things ought to run.
this weekend, someone from my past (a friend of sorts, but also a friend of a friend) found me. it was very out of the blue, very unexpected, and more than a little unsettling, only because he reminds me of a time that is long over for me (but from which i'm still kind of recovering, still hiding out from, in parts). it occurs to me that maybe he's recovering, too. in fact, i wonder if he's seeking solace in another escapee from a life once lived. and as i mused earlier in an e-mail trail with salimah: 'he's trying to reconnect with his wounded artist self. dude, he's a freaking refugee. who isn't at this point?'
i, however, am coming out of hiding. i speak only for me in this, but it is the truth indeed.