Tuesday, August 03, 2004


Being inspired is both a blessing and a curse for me.

When I see a great movie or read a wonderful book, it overwhelms me. All of my creative life-long dreams come racing back. At first, I am joyful in it’s return to my day-to-day life routine. I pull out those cartoons I’ve been working on, and the remnants of the comic book that I’ve been attempting to write for ten years. I start thinking again about dying my hair blue. I get inspired to research and read and dream again, like I did from birth until adulthood hit.

Then I wake up a few days later and my dog has pooped on the floor, the laundry is building up, the toilet needs scrubbing and I am still sitting at the same desk after four years. Four years of sitting on my ass, trying to look busy. I don’t feel so inspired anymore. I feel a little bit sad. Sad and fearful that my life is getting away from me, and I haven’t the faintest idea how to catch it. People warn you that when you become an adult, life just seems to fly by. I guess I didn’t think that warning pertained to me.

Knowing that a child is going to be added to this equation in about six months is also very frightening. Lots more poop to wake up to.

How do you slow down your life? How do you remember who you are, and what you were made to do? How do you keep at your dreams when there is a very good chance that it will all come to nothing?

And what is success? I know, I know…I constantly hear, “Success is being happy with your life, blah blah blah.” Then what do I do with this nagging, eating-at-me creative yearning that I’ve had since childhood?

Maybe it all comes down to risk-taking. But I’m from a typical middle-class upbringing. I don’t know how to take risks. The word “risk” isn’t even in my vocabulary. I wouldn’t even know where to start.


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