artistic laxative
is honesty born this hard?
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
I wanted it. Badly.
I wanted to do the interview, the biography, taste the invasion of privacy (to an extent). I wanted it because I thought that was what was worth living for. I wanted someone to care what I thought. I thought those were worthy goals as human beings living in this place, in this day and age. I don’t mean a proud Leo of superstardom. I mean dreams of valour, honour, and a lifetime of contribution to humanity.
I remember being a child and wanting to save the world. I remember thinking that it was possible to eliminate hunger, thirst, war, hate, and save every endangered species, stop clear cutting, and fix the ozone layer, all simultaneously- just to start.
I remember thinking that I was so full of love and energy that that would be the cure for everything.
That my life would take shape before me, and unhindered, my golden path would pave my footsteps and I would prevent that child from crying to sleep, I would bring peace to the Middle East, there would be no causes for the united way, covenant house, or for green peace. I watched CBC, CNN, I read Macleans and Time, and I was affected by the advertising of the lifestyles of the admirable, the pious, the revered, and the dedicated.
That was about 15-18 years ago that I became conscious of my destiny, our destiny. I knew I wasn’t alone. I knew that there were others. Somewhere, I could feel it, the love and peace I was emanating was returning to me, it must have been bouncing back from others somewhere. So I continued on with my causes, my notion that together we would save the world. They changed though, those pillars of goodness I looked up to. They shifted while I was busy planning my great masterpiece. Everything seemed more complicated. Each decision I faced wore an elaborate costume of bias, or prejudice, or negotiation. These things affected me. I was less able to see the future that was harmonious. I still watched CBC, CNN and I still read Macleans and Time, and I still was affected by the glory of the admirable activists, but I had started to use different markers on my road map. I looked to Nobel Prize winners and marveled at their contributions, but was star struck by their bestowments. I saw the recognition gained before the efforts. My goal displacement was in unbeknownst full force.
I still wanted to heal the world, and I thought I still was. But my efforts had become misguided and weighed down by my desires and preoccupation with the personal gratification of the power of healing.
I had decided that Art was my language of choice. I wanted to inspire and expose. I want to inspire and reveal. I want to keep myself from falling asleep at the wheel again and with that, I let go of my fantasies. I had to. Not because the world wouldn’t accept them. Not because I had lost my faith, but because I had faith as tough as habit and I needed my fantasies to be realities. So I welcomed their evolution. It was, and continues to be the most painful process I have ever had to endure.
It is a longing for the lover you cannot let go. The pang and the ache for the time you wish you had together. You will give almost anything to have that back. That fantasy, calls you when you sleep. It appears in everything. I must constantly remind myself that I want to experience it as a reality. That is the one thought so far that has kept me gold. Otherwise I would have left myself to some settled mercy by now, from the exhaustion of not being able to have that fantasy to comfort me.
Reality is so real that there is nothing obvious about it. It is the most subtle expression. It just is, and nothing more.
I wanted to do the interview, the biography, taste the invasion of privacy (to an extent). I wanted it because I thought that was what was worth living for. I wanted someone to care what I thought. I thought those were worthy goals as human beings living in this place, in this day and age. I don’t mean a proud Leo of superstardom. I mean dreams of valour, honour, and a lifetime of contribution to humanity.
I remember being a child and wanting to save the world. I remember thinking that it was possible to eliminate hunger, thirst, war, hate, and save every endangered species, stop clear cutting, and fix the ozone layer, all simultaneously- just to start.
I remember thinking that I was so full of love and energy that that would be the cure for everything.
That my life would take shape before me, and unhindered, my golden path would pave my footsteps and I would prevent that child from crying to sleep, I would bring peace to the Middle East, there would be no causes for the united way, covenant house, or for green peace. I watched CBC, CNN, I read Macleans and Time, and I was affected by the advertising of the lifestyles of the admirable, the pious, the revered, and the dedicated.
That was about 15-18 years ago that I became conscious of my destiny, our destiny. I knew I wasn’t alone. I knew that there were others. Somewhere, I could feel it, the love and peace I was emanating was returning to me, it must have been bouncing back from others somewhere. So I continued on with my causes, my notion that together we would save the world. They changed though, those pillars of goodness I looked up to. They shifted while I was busy planning my great masterpiece. Everything seemed more complicated. Each decision I faced wore an elaborate costume of bias, or prejudice, or negotiation. These things affected me. I was less able to see the future that was harmonious. I still watched CBC, CNN and I still read Macleans and Time, and I still was affected by the glory of the admirable activists, but I had started to use different markers on my road map. I looked to Nobel Prize winners and marveled at their contributions, but was star struck by their bestowments. I saw the recognition gained before the efforts. My goal displacement was in unbeknownst full force.
I still wanted to heal the world, and I thought I still was. But my efforts had become misguided and weighed down by my desires and preoccupation with the personal gratification of the power of healing.
I had decided that Art was my language of choice. I wanted to inspire and expose. I want to inspire and reveal. I want to keep myself from falling asleep at the wheel again and with that, I let go of my fantasies. I had to. Not because the world wouldn’t accept them. Not because I had lost my faith, but because I had faith as tough as habit and I needed my fantasies to be realities. So I welcomed their evolution. It was, and continues to be the most painful process I have ever had to endure.
It is a longing for the lover you cannot let go. The pang and the ache for the time you wish you had together. You will give almost anything to have that back. That fantasy, calls you when you sleep. It appears in everything. I must constantly remind myself that I want to experience it as a reality. That is the one thought so far that has kept me gold. Otherwise I would have left myself to some settled mercy by now, from the exhaustion of not being able to have that fantasy to comfort me.
Reality is so real that there is nothing obvious about it. It is the most subtle expression. It just is, and nothing more.
