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At the beginning of this year I made a daft bargain with myself. I promised myself that I'd give my dreams, daydreams, and fantasies another year and then if nothing happened by then, I'd get a "real job" and thus make some of my loved ones happier and more secure. It was made more difficult from a lack of feedback; something which gets harder with time to justify as mere "jealousy", and which looks more and more like a silent message of disapproval.
However, over the last couple of weeks I've been reassessing this (in many ways and employing various techniques and perspectives), and finally tonight, after reading this thread,this thread, while idly watching this film on TV, I've come to the following conclusion: f**k it, it's a bum deal.
I'd been haunted by and struggling with the projected image of a future PW, supplied by some of those around me, of a black listed, pension-less, penniless, unhappy, and medicated old duffer ranting on about how great an artist they should have been. One solution to avoid this future was to give up and change, but I haven't had the heart to do it, yet. Then tonight, thankfully, a new image supplanted the old: a kind of hybrid of Nat Moyer (Walter Matthau's' character in the film) and The Music Master (from 'The Glass Bead Game'). It's a future I wouldn't mind, for once.
Sorry if this is the wrong place for this post, and no doubt by tomorrow my thunk muscle will have found a way to ruin this feeling, but tonight I've got a happy and I wanted to type this somewhere where I'd be forced to remember.
G'night John-boys and girls.
(Oh and congratulations Scintilla! Hope the new job continues to give you a happy!) |
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