Passive - A Perfect Circle
How does one go about finding certainty about one's own reason to exist?
Seriously, follow this thought awhile. Is it required of every human that we have a purpose? Yes, I know the verses about knitting in the womb and having plans to prosper, but suppose there exist cracks in the fabric of the plane of souls. Is it possible for a human life to be a fluke of [insert appropriate power here]? How can it be proven that each and every one of us was intended to live?
I was told last week that I should go into science because of my brain. I have the potential to help a lot of people by becoming a medical scientist or something. My obsession with the arts isn't a waste of my abilities, per se, but it seems like a mundane goal.
Fuck that.
But it did give me pause, and furthered this mix of ponderings and emotions which have relentlessly plagued me for well over a month. My brother has abilities similar to my own, and he chose to do something "responsible" with them by going into engineering. I, on the other hand, have chosen to pursue the arts, something a friend of mine recently said is "pure narcissism."
But I fail at them. Consistently.
So why is it my only true passions also happen to be the sorts of things I can't succeed in? "Sorry, kid. You don't tell stories well enough." "You're too cerebral." "You're not where you should be for the amount of time you've played." If I pursued a career in science or engineering, I wouldn't hear this sort of thing. But then, I would also pursue something completely cold and empty to me. My current pursuit may be leaving me cold and empty, but the arts are the only living thing left in this world.
So, once again, I find myself at the same impass. I can't measure up to anything I want to, but I excel at things I despise. This complete paradox I call my existence leads to some unhappy conclusions. If I can't understand me, how can anyone else? Where do I belong? Why do I exist? Was I even supposed to exist?
You fucking disappoint me.
Maybe you're better off this way.
Seriously, follow this thought awhile. Is it required of every human that we have a purpose? Yes, I know the verses about knitting in the womb and having plans to prosper, but suppose there exist cracks in the fabric of the plane of souls. Is it possible for a human life to be a fluke of [insert appropriate power here]? How can it be proven that each and every one of us was intended to live?
I was told last week that I should go into science because of my brain. I have the potential to help a lot of people by becoming a medical scientist or something. My obsession with the arts isn't a waste of my abilities, per se, but it seems like a mundane goal.
Fuck that.
But it did give me pause, and furthered this mix of ponderings and emotions which have relentlessly plagued me for well over a month. My brother has abilities similar to my own, and he chose to do something "responsible" with them by going into engineering. I, on the other hand, have chosen to pursue the arts, something a friend of mine recently said is "pure narcissism."
But I fail at them. Consistently.
So why is it my only true passions also happen to be the sorts of things I can't succeed in? "Sorry, kid. You don't tell stories well enough." "You're too cerebral." "You're not where you should be for the amount of time you've played." If I pursued a career in science or engineering, I wouldn't hear this sort of thing. But then, I would also pursue something completely cold and empty to me. My current pursuit may be leaving me cold and empty, but the arts are the only living thing left in this world.
So, once again, I find myself at the same impass. I can't measure up to anything I want to, but I excel at things I despise. This complete paradox I call my existence leads to some unhappy conclusions. If I can't understand me, how can anyone else? Where do I belong? Why do I exist? Was I even supposed to exist?
You fucking disappoint me.
Maybe you're better off this way.
7 Comments:
Well, Nick had the same question, but he put it as a hypothetical: "If there were some catastrophic event on Earth and humanity was nearly wiped out, and somehow I survived, then I would not have the developed skills to help rebuild society/civilization."
We concluded that his statement was accurate, but that the postulate wasn't the current situation. Once people have shelter, food, clothes, and other basic needs (and a few desires), then suddenly they need art.
People naturally gravitate to creating some sort of culture. So, your persuits are fine. As the Chinese say, "Be not afraid of growing slowly. Be only afraid of standing still." So long as you improve, you're fine.
Prepare for the cliche!:
"Do what you love, and you'll never work a day in your life."
I think that's Confucious or something... but man, I could never have a desk job. You need to do what you love. Besides, I think on some level, I'd rather be a failure at something that I loved than a success at something that I despised.
Stick with it man. Everything comes at different speeds for different people.
It's not that I view the arts as superfluous to existence. Quite the contrary. My problem is I want to make art, but can't. I'm repeatedly dropped from casting callback lists, I can't write worthwhile lyrics to save my life, I can't sing, and my musicianship is mediocre at best.
Art is all I want to do, but I want to do it well.
Maybe you mean to sat that you want to make *fine* art. I like making art as well, but it's designed art. People often overlook the creative (artful) process in solving a practical problem.
On an aside, I don't like the box of "posting anonymously". I'm not posting anonymously, it's just that I don't want to join Blogger and become part of another marketing database. Why can't the powers that be let the internet be free (free as in freedom, not as in beer)? Oh, lament of Richard Stallman. But, if you wanna do some spoofing on your own, check out spamgourmet: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spamgourmet .
copyleft 2004, m4c
"Do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life"
That line is such bull crap! If everybody followed this, or if it was actually a practical philosophy of existance we'd have no janitors, construction workers, office workers...all the awful yet necessary jobs wouldn't be filled.
So maybe I'm meant to work in a field that makes me miserable. Maybe we're meant to be miserable.
how can you fail at art? art, by its very nature, defies judgement... regardless of intended meaning, interpretation, or any fucking narcissistic tendencies. arts rule, science drools. and whether or not we were intended to exist, we're here anyway. so just do it. and try to have lots of sex. art, life, and sex... what more could you want? i mean, really.
speaking of arts and life...
i was sitting at the symphany tonight pondering the fact that every player on that stage is paid for what they do...while the vocal ensemble of about equal calibar in this city (which i am a part of) has to actually PAY to be a member of the organization. it falls into the same argument i always threw around the music lounge about hating how band instrumentalists could play from music on jurries and vocalists, pianists, and most guitarists had to memorize most if not all of their pieces..AND be expected to put a little more emotion into what they do. PLEASE give me a good reason for these things! why do i have to work harder to get the training where i am to be paid less?
im realy tempted now to find a vocal organization to practice with 4 nights of the week and take cello lessons on the 5th night and work a normal 9-5 kind of job as a bank teller or church secretary or something. completely disregarding finding my passion at work and making my work fit with a schedule i can pack with things i have passion for. this waking early, working late, and strugling to get two nights off consitently every week is getting tiresome to my creativity...
someone tell me to shut up now, okay?
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