Continued correspondence from the Twilight Zone. I'm filled with angst and extreme loathing of 43 of my 46 years, so I'll keep this short and not ramble on about it. The Girl Next Door (the movie, not the insipid Playboy bunny TV show) is on TV in the background, and I'm watching my fantasy life. Not "fantasy life," but my life as I wish it could have been. I'm sure by the end I'll be angry and suicidal. I'm a waste.
I have a lot of interests and I like a lot of things. The problem with this is that, in pursuing so many thing, I never have sufficient time to properly devote to any of them. My life is lined with half finished projects, half watched TV series, uncountable half read web sites and blogs. Every night is a mental marathon of cramming knowledge into my brain and attempting to visually absorb the skill of hundreds of artists, and pretending to design upcoming projects (most of which are unoriginal evolutions inspired by someone else's work). By the time 3am rolls around every night, I'm mentally exhausted and emotionally unsatisfied.
You know, I think being intellectually rounded is a good thing, I love my art, and I think it's possible to organize my life so I'm able to accomplish more. But I'm not there... not really even sure how to get there. I want it. And Ill keep working on it until I do finally give up.
Selfishness can be motivating.
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