in the frame

Art is beauty.  Some make it for profit.  Some because they have something inside of them they need to get out, like an exorcism.  Others just want to put something they made out into the world and see if it floats.  As I’ve gotten older, I realize I never really understood the arts growing up.  I’ve always been able to string a word or two together…but as for things like drawing, music, acting…I always felt a step behind.  Well, not acting…I was good at that…I just never got the validation I needed in order to continue to pursue it.  That’s not to say that it not my fault.  I had a lot come easy to me when I was growing up.  I was one of the smart ones.  I was fast.  I was athletic.  I was a leader.  I was tall.  I didn’t have to try very hard to succeed…though success is a relative term.  Success used to be a B.  The fact that I never attempted to strive for A’s, I think, says a lot about me.  Good and bad.

And now I’m here.

Nothing comes easy anymore.  Everything is a struggle.  Every day is a struggle.  Just summoning the energy to get dressed, go to work and eat my meals is a chore.  Sitting down to watch a film is as much a battle as a blessing.  Two hours of escapism should be akin to a giant chocolate cake…there to enjoy and not feel guilty about.  Yet something always taps on my shoulder, whispering in my ear, making it feel like a waste of time.  I still get goose bumps watching a good movie.  It’s one of the few things in my life I’m still remotely passionate about.  Maybe I’m afraid I’ll wear out that record too and be left with nothing?

Where is all the beauty in the world now?