Thanksgiving
The significance of Thanksgiving, to me, is that there are more dishes, and I have to wait a very long time to eat.
Part of the reason I stopped drawing as much as I used to was that I had abandoned all hope of doing anything related to art as a career, even though I have the potential to be very good at it. My whole life I have been told that this pursuit would leave me as a starving artist. That is, at least, until a few days ago. My mother told me that I would be very good at it if that is what I chose to do, but that I should have another career that I could fall into should artwork not be good enough. So not only did I cush many of my aspirations and dreams to work with Frank Oz/Tim Burton/Brian Froud and the like, but I came to realize that I have actually been living my life the way my mother dictated, instead of the way I wanted to. Am I not already a starving artist? I am a clown, and I hate my job. Not the job itself-- the job is fun. But I often walk away and see my reflection in the jaded ripples of Lake Ella's toxic water and think: is this what my life is leading up to? I am an underpayed clown, not even a very good one, cajed by my mother's fears. I feel like I should have been in a Norman Rockwell painting.
Too much poignance. I am the stereotypical teenager. Maybe someday I'll work for Disney for a while. During the summer I think I'll try to see if I can get an internship there, or something, like my boss recommended. Such is life.
P
Part of the reason I stopped drawing as much as I used to was that I had abandoned all hope of doing anything related to art as a career, even though I have the potential to be very good at it. My whole life I have been told that this pursuit would leave me as a starving artist. That is, at least, until a few days ago. My mother told me that I would be very good at it if that is what I chose to do, but that I should have another career that I could fall into should artwork not be good enough. So not only did I cush many of my aspirations and dreams to work with Frank Oz/Tim Burton/Brian Froud and the like, but I came to realize that I have actually been living my life the way my mother dictated, instead of the way I wanted to. Am I not already a starving artist? I am a clown, and I hate my job. Not the job itself-- the job is fun. But I often walk away and see my reflection in the jaded ripples of Lake Ella's toxic water and think: is this what my life is leading up to? I am an underpayed clown, not even a very good one, cajed by my mother's fears. I feel like I should have been in a Norman Rockwell painting.
Too much poignance. I am the stereotypical teenager. Maybe someday I'll work for Disney for a while. During the summer I think I'll try to see if I can get an internship there, or something, like my boss recommended. Such is life.
P