This is a large painting in progress (and has been for almost a year and a half…Once I started full time work last summer and the choir, my time just disappeared). I have no idea what it is or means, just that I was drawing and stopped when the sketch felt right. Or just felt strange enough…
I lack inspiration and faith in my own creativity. It’s been this way for months and I’ve just tried to ignore how much I feel like a fraud when I attempt new art or when even looking at my past work. It’s like a completely different person owns them and I can only stand aside, wishing I could have back what it seems I’ve lost in trying to adjust to my life now. I’m stranded and have no idea what comes next, what I want or where I’ll be. I just know I would rather see my time here come to a close than feel hopeless any longer. Things are okay, but I don’t think that’s enough anymore. I feel as if I’m slipping away and can only think why bother fighting it.
Anyway, I need a title for this picture. I’ve begun coloring and the background reminds me of a fresh, spring morning, but how that ties into the weird portrait, I don’t know. It doesn’t even have to make sense. I’m just going to finish it because I want nothing left undone.
I have notified everyone necessary about my break from the choir for the rest of April if not the rest of our singing season before fall returns. With that extra time I hope to fall in with another doctor. I’ve already got an appointment set, but I don’t yet know if this psychiatrist offers psychotherapy as well. I’m doubting it, which will mean making another appointment with a psychologist somewhere and learning how to manage between the two regarding my medication.
In the background of all this, I still wonder what the hell is the point. But things are okay right now. I’m not hurting myself outright and while my thoughts can become vicious from time to time, I’m in no rush to act. This week will mark 9 months full time on my job. The closer I get to a full year, the more freedom I expect to at least feel, if not set on a new course by then. I may return to school for something else, or I might hit the road somehow and be the starving artist. I wouldn’t last long alone, but it offers a conclusion of my own terms. I am nothing better than the next person, so why not do what makes me feel closer to my honest self? Life as it is right now for the next 20 or 30 years scares me more than turning away at the risk of dying young.
Just some thoughts. In the mean time, there is much music to record.