Last night I went to a monthly poetry night at a local gallery with my sister. It was our first time and it was fabulous. The only place I ever feel I truly belong is in an artistic setting like that. I know the whole alienated artist thing is totally overdone (well, I don't know that really, but my best friend seems to think so and I trust her judgment) but I really do feel that way most of the time.
I'm so stereotypically ordinary in that way I guess. I feel angry and misunderstood except when I'm writing (and I don't mean crap like this or the articles I do for work, I'm talking about creating something)or when I'm surrounded by people who write or when I'm reading what others have written.
That's joy for me. That's happiness. That's where I belong. And when I get away from it and stuck out here in the world where people don't see metaphors in simple daily activities, where people don't scribble notes in the middle of a conversation, where people don't even read anymore, I get depressed and discouraged and I forget where it is I truly belong. I forget that world is out there.
That's why evenings out like last night are so important to enrich my mind and soul, to stimulate my brain, and keep me sane. These people exist. These people who understand me and know how I feel. I want so badly to surround myself with them and stay there.
Tomorrow I attend my first small fiction workshop with three other women. This forced me to look at my manuscript today and fire something off to the girls. . . it forced me to write something creative. WOW!! This is a good thing.
Things are truly looking up. I can stay on an even keel as long as I maintain some sort of regular contact with my peers and write something new. This is my goal. This is how I will heal myself and stay sane.
Mood: Spiritual
Listening to: Everything is Automatic, Matthew Good
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment