Friday, 18 June 2010

It's caged up


I try so many different things all the time. Eventually, I always get bored. I believe it has to do with trying to be somewhat normal. You see, I have this crazy person caged up inside of me, but sometimes, I set her free. She is the one who grabs her husband's hair clippers and dyes her hair lavender. She is the one who makes some weird creation of crazy fabric and parades it around. She is the one who wants to do nothing but paint, sculpt, carve, walk, write, cook, bike and join a gypsy caravan. You see, I have this weird craving. I want to be this artist person who is locked up. I want to live my life in my eclectic way.



If I had lived, well scratch that, if I had been older in the 70's, I more than likely would have run off to New York. I would have tried to be around the Warhol crowd, partied in Studio 54 (screw the "disco", have you seen the creativity of those folks?), dipped into the emerging punk scene and created. Hell, that was my dream when I was in high school. I wanted to apply to the Art Institute in New York, that was in the late 80s. Alas, the tuition even back then was outlandish. Then, I did the stupid thing got married. Should have, could have, would have, right? Hindsight is 20/20 as they say, and I cannot change what was.

I picked up when I was around 29 and went to Madrid for a month. I studied Spanish and American Expatriate Literature, wandered museums and lived, well, like I had always wanted. I roamed museums, jumped on trains for day trips, sat outside drank wine, read, sketched, kept a journal - a regular Kerouac type month! Then, I headed on back to my normal job. The sad state of reality, got to pay the bills.

See, I have no real passion for any one thing. This is why I still have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. I have been to college, changing my major four times. I have been to community colleges, always getting completely bored with the subjects. Things sound interesting to me. I study for a year or even more and get utterly bored out of my mind. Then, I begin to think about how I would have to endure these careers for as many years as I have been doing my present job and get completely ill. I begin to feel claustrophobic and caged with the prospect of actually doing the jobs. The sad part is that I always made excellent grades.




People tell me to imagine myself doing the one thing that makes me happiest. The problem is that I have no clue what that would be. Nothing truly makes me happy for long periods. It changes continuously. Happiness to me is experiencing anything and everything, constant change, bright, shiny, new. Every single day, I want to do something different, go somewhere different.

C'est la vie. Beginning next week, I will have more time to ponder. I will be incapacitated for a few days and on light duty for a few weeks after that and will have no other choice but to think. Well, that is unless I decide to spend that time reading or watching movies that I had bought months ago and have never gotten around to watching!

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