“And creativity, it soaks my soul, I ask not to be alone”; The Artistic Struggle Is Real

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Today’s Mood Ingredients: Unfulfilled, Yearning, Striving, Undone, Explosive.

It’s taken me a long time to feel affected by something enough to unload it onto the internet, but this is one of those long-simmering slow boils that is about to finally pop the top off of the pressure cooker. What is “a creative?” Is it someone who only works in the arts? Is it a social media director? Is it someone who works in public relations? An editor of a magazine? I have no idea as to what concretely defines “a creative” anymore, but I know that I am one. It’s an innate knowledge, probably the only thing I was born sure of, but what I’ve also learned is that at times, it is a G-d damn pain in the ass. Life in the arts, of any kind, is the furthest thing from a smooth ride into a sufficient paycheck & contentedness. It’s definitely easier today than back when I was growing up (and no lie, I’m so envious of these kids attending performing arts high schools and summer dance and drama camps and such, that sometimes I wish I could just be reborn – I’m Hindu-ish, I’m sure it’ll work – and do it all over again).

On any given day, when I go to my routine job in order to fund my passions in design and dance, I’ll be half present. It’s a job that requires organization, work ethic, and some brain power, but not enough that my mind isn’t wandering into my next “masterpiece” of some kind. What’s the strangest ensemble I can put together that I’m sure will push the boundaries of normal construction? What’s the most out-of-the-box movement I can push my body to make in some new choreography? This thought process usually very rapidly progresses to “Why am I not in the arts full-time?” “Why is this not where my life’s funding is coming from?” “Why am I still in healthcare when I quit medical school 7 years ago?” And then come the influx of emotions; disappointment, despondence, whys & what-ifs, sadness, inspiration, rallying, excitement, enthusiasm..lather, rinse, repeat. And those last three words are why as each day goes by, I feel my flame extinguished little by little, slowly but surely.

Why do “creatives” have to struggle to make their contributions matter? We are progressive, we push boundaries, we help people think on alternative planes, we force people to delve deeper into themselves, we sometimes gift people to have the confidence to look deeper into others. So why isn’t creative input as socially important as, for example, a doctor’s? Now, before everyone dumps on me, realize this; I obviously know a doctor has indispensable life-saving skills and they go through a lot to get to that point where their patients trust them enough to literally put their lives in their hands. And yes, of course, a musician or a dancer will need a doctor at some point. But use your right brain for a minute. Have you ever thought about how a musician could possibly be saving a doctor’s life? What about that surgeon in that OR who has been awake for 48 hours not having seen his/her family with someone’s mortality in their hands? What about his/her favorite musician whose labor of love is what they’re playing in the OR to calm their nerves or keep them awake or reach into some emotion or memory or whatever the case may be in order to focus and keep their patient alive & well? We need each other. 

The stigma that an artist is a wishy-washy hippie with no real focus or destination is what keeps us all down, the non-artists included. This creative life is an unforgiving, difficult, lonely, misunderstood, emotionally-turmoiled typhoon..that is also the most fulfilling, evolving, magnetic, identifying, truthful, cathartic, satisfying, authentic one. To not be able to wholly live it is soul-crushing..like a permanent Dementor all up in your face. But those with the tenacity and voracity to live that roller coaster, no matter the cost, are the ones that fly. They are the ones who make change happen, not because they are creative, but because they are full of grit & blind determination & the optimism that tells them everything will happen for them in time.

I want to be that person. I have to be that person. And I’ve given myself a deadline on when I will be that person.

Stay tuned..changes, they are a’comin’.

 

Today’s Wisdom:

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. No artist is pleased. No satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.” -Martha Graham

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Today’s Interlude: “Pure Imagination” from Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory

Solo Sojourns: The Legacy of the “Me Trip”

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Today’s Mood Ingredients: Nomadic, Adventurous, Introspective, Light, Free.

One of the greatest things I’ve ever done to facilitate my own independence and feed my desire to connect with as many kindred and non-kindred spirits as possible was to start taking “Me Trips” back when I started college. I know you’re waiting with bated breath for me to explain (because the name isn’t self-explanatory at all), so here we go. When I was a freshman, many of my closest friends were at different schools, so our spring breaks never coincided. I’m one of those rarities on the planet that has never been to Cancun for spring break. I never had a wild week of unadulterated all-inclusive fun; at least not in college. When faced with the option of sitting at home for a week doing nothing but morosely imagining the others on the beach (pre-Facebook photo days, you guys aka TORTURE), I decided to just up & leave and go on a trip by myself. It was nothing spectacular the first time (Virginia and Washington, DC), but the whole idea of leaving for a different city by myself with no concrete itinerary was so enthralling, even the mall seemed spectacular because it was in another city. Now, back in the day, before I went delinquent for a while, my parents were hyper-paranoid and I was an angel child. Trying to convince them that I was going to drive to Virginia from New York alone, stay in a hotel alone, and hopefully return (alone) was one of the most difficult processes that no human being should ever have to go through. But, I’m a Scorpio and I’m stubborn and I’m determined and I guess I was convincing (“Mom! You always say you want me to be independent! How will I do so in the house all break while you feed me!? I have to experience life.” Yeah, whatever, you were all that preachy at 17 too!). So, I packed a bag with clothes, money, the brick of a cell phone I had just gotten in January of 2000 “for emergencies only,” & some books, and bounded out the door.

I remember being extremely excited that I was going on a trip by myself and I would meet so many new people and see so many new things and learn so much more about myself that the first thing I did was get lost on the way. It’s a straight road from NYC to VA/DC, but I get lost if I come out of a different subway exit, so this was par for the course for me. With no navigation system & NO WAY IN HELL being the basic idea behind calling my dad for directions, my “spring break” started off by gas station hopping (party animal) to find out exactly how I could get to my destination. When I got to my little Holiday Inn room, I was thrilled (this was pre-anxiety that a serial killer would strangle me Lifetime movie style days). I looked around, called my parents to tell them that I still had all limbs intact and I was only late in arriving because of traffic, not due to being directionally impaired, and..bounded out the door.

The 5 days I spent in Virginia & DC are still some of my most fondly remembered ones. I went to the Smithsonian, National Air & Space Museum, The White House, Washington Monument, Lincoln & Jefferson Memorials, Arlington Cemetery, & of course, the Arlington Mall (as in shopping, not historical). I meandered along the large exhibits and really took the time to understand the things that I actually liked in life. I found that my childhood predilection for museums and history was still raring to go as long as I didn’t have a 40 question exam or 2,000 word essay relying on it afterwards. I experienced the DC nightlife, unknowingly ended up at an awesome lesbian nightclub (“Come to the firehouse party tomorrow night, I’ll take you as my date!”) which I didn’t know at the time was a lesbian nightclub, I just thought it was “ladies’ night” and people in DC were much nicer than in New York (see why I needed the “independence”!?), made a new friend at a hip hop bar who I was in touch with for a couple of years afterwards, went back to the hotel happy and renewed and ready to go home..and bounded out the door.

After that first experience, I was hooked. “Me Trips” became my sanity and I vowed to take one at least once a year. I went to the Bahamas with no plans and ended up going to fire-breathing show, kayaking for the first time by myself (resulting in spaghetti arms), & meeting a girl and her mom from the next town over from me on Long Island. We met on a Bahamian snorkeling/booze cruise on which I ended up as “Limbo Queen” and won a bottle of long gone rum. From there, I took a flight to Miami, rented a red convertible to fulfill my long-harbored dream of being whatever people in red convertibles at the time were, had a beautiful dinner of pasta and wine on Lincoln Road alone while reading a paperback which I then left in the back of a cab I took to go to Mansion, a nightclub there. I encountered a bachelorette party of girls with whom I ended up having mutual connections, stayed at one of their apartments, & headed to Orlando on the Amtrak the next day. Most people call me a nutjob, but I have been to Miami’s Holocaust Museum alone, I’ve truly and thoroughly enjoyed The Magic Kingdom alone, I’ve gone to a club in Orlando and met  a couple who ended up inviting me to their wedding later that year, and I still go to dinner and movies and short road trips alone when I can’t manage the time for a full Me Trip. The experiences I’ve had on all of those journeys are absolutely incomparable and unique and considering I remember so many details, and more importantly, feelings, from these trips, it is clear that they have in some way shaped me as well. I just remember feeling new. That’s the best way I can put it. Intrigued, revived, alive, enthusiastic..and ever ready to bound out the door.

My family has gotten used to it even if they don’t understand it because it was and IS the greatest feeling in the world to take some time for yourself away from your familiar surroundings and the regular hubbub of daily life and just connect with yourself as a human being. Your likes, dislikes, experiences can all be influenced by those around you so once in a while, why not take off and see what it is that really resonates with you? I credit my Me Trips with much of the hyper self-awareness that I have today. I can honestly say that I know exactly what makes an impact with me, exactly what I like and don’t like and why, what my flaws are, what my assets are, what has shaped me and how, and what I want for myself from this point forward. To be attuned to yourself is a fabulous thing because I don’t second guess my decisions as much as I used to, and that is a fantastic feeling. I feel rejuvenated when I am away and have a clarity of thought that is difficult to produce when you’re surrounded by so many pressures and stressors and responsibilities. Alone doesn’t equal lonely and I strongly urge everyone to find the time to take a Me Trip and really understand what makes you, you.

I hope you’re bounding out the door.

Today’s Interlude: I 9, “Same In Any Language”

(Pictures Below – sadly none of Virginia/DC..pre-digicam days!: 1. Red convertible stunting in Miami, 2. Nicole, a girl I met in the Bahamas with her mom, & myself at Señor Frog’s, 3. Random bachelorette party at Mansion, Miami, 4. Limbo Queen on a Bahamian booze cruise, 5. New friends in the Bahamas at the Breezes resort where I was not staying, 6. Front & center at Cinderella’s house, 7. Knights of Fire show in the Bahamas, 8. Nicole’s mom, Nicole, the bouncer, & me at Señor Frog’s, 9. Bride-to-be Monique & her BFF at an Orlando lounge, 10. New friends in Miami, 11. New friends in Orlando, 12. New friend Rahul & I at B.E.D. in Miami, 13. Holocaust Museum in Miami, 14. Wedding party friends at Breezes in the Bahamas, 15. My 1st time snorkeling, 16. A new Orlando police officer friend, 17. Nicole & I on the Bahamian booze cruise, 18. Kayaking for the 1st time)

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