I sat on a milk crate of artistic frustration.

I am part of a dying breed as my roommate put it to me last night. The general masses don't buy art for art's sake, listen to poetry, go to plays and contemplate the little things in life. This bohemian lifestyle only exists in a minority of places throughout this world. We are the weird few who still have romantic notions of art, word, theatre and the various levels of existence past the facade of our day to day life.

If it's not on a Nook, on television or the internet why bother to absorb material of past distant decades - the books, the paintings, the essays of the generations of creative individuals. I am part of a new generation that still wants to hold on to this dying form of artistic expression.
Will art ever become so mainstream that technology takes the backseat for a while? Not bloody likely.

I am ok with this. This is not a rant against technology. I am using it to post to this blog and I do own a pink Nintendo DS and where would I be without my trusty iPod?! I am also a consumer of technology.
I eat it like a fat kid eats cake.

I work in retail at the moment like the rest of the creative types tend to do. We need time to work on our art and our writing so we work at jobs that don't suck our creative juices and let us have "time" to work on true calling - art. Where is this time after months of just working in retail and becoming a night owl and barely having energy to work on our true calling? It's a double edge swords for us - artists, writers, musicians, poets, actors etc.
 We enter a lethargic cycle of retail work and slowly let go of our dreams. I came to this realization last night while I sat on a milk crate cleaning spilled milk off some busted cartons at work.

I went to college to do this?
What am I gaining from this job other than monetary benefit?
Why do I willingly give them so much of my time when all I ever think about is my artistic work?
Why wasn't I just born to be an accountant and not have these thoughts?
I want more out of life other than just identifying myself with this job. 
My identity is art, my family, my friends but not the cleaning lady of spilled milk.

All these thoughts ran through my mind in minus 2 minutes. Once again I became frustrated with my current state and I'm choosing not to be defeated! My brain was wired for art and the robotic regurgitation of "paper or plastic?".  I have started an action plan to pull myself out of this black hole and join the few who have made art their life. I don't want to be rich and famous. I want to make art so that the masses are exposed to something out of the ordinary.
We become so accustom to our day to day and not enough of us take time to look around and notice how awesome this life is.
It is fleetingly temporary.
I have debt. I have bills. I desire and purchase objects that put me in the red and never in the black. I am breathing on 30 this year. These things have kept me from being more proactive in a vocation I believe in and love.

I wrote my action plan down and will carry it around until I have checked everything off my list. I will not be all talk and no walk. Maybe it's my age, my unfulfilled soul or my over-analyzation of my life that has made me sort my priorities.
Life is not forever and I choose to relish it until the day my body gives out.

Art if my lifeline. What's yours?

The island that gave me a shot of tequila and inspiration.

I don't want to paint or draw about past loves anymore. They did serve their purpose for awhile - my therapeutic muse. However, I've run out of fuel and I would like to fill up on a new kind of premium muse. Enter Puerto Rico. One night of bitching about the cold weather lead three of us to plan a trip to Puerto Rico. 

I don't really have the funds to travel much but I managed to somehow pull it off this time around. I've never been so happy to be embraced by the hot sun and ocean waves in my life. Throughout my few days on this island I became obsessed with balconies. They were everywhere I turned. It was awesome. I immediately began to fantasize about being up there and being serenaded by my imaginary boyfriend and a Mariachi band. *SWOON* He would proclaim his love for me and I would say "Ditto". 

I always ponder my life when I enter a balcony. I take one deep breathe and look at my surroundings and enjoy that tiny moment where you are literally above everything else. I feel supreme like a queen.  I want to deliver a grand speech and inspire others to not give up on their creative aspirations and keep going before every art form is forgotten.

And then I move on to other thoughts and musings - hunchback zombies, monsters, squids, or learning how to play chess. I bought myself a chess set while in Puerto Rico. I WANT TO LEARN. :)

So I'm hoping plenty of quality balcony time will lead to new possibilities. When one door closes a new one opens, right? I love doors as well especially when I have no idea what's on the other side. 

I keep peeking into rooms of new artistic paths and then BAM! I shut them. I am my own end. 

The Guacamalan spirit must not die and I sure as hell won't let it. Thank you PR for giving me a sweet dose of inspiration. You were the right prescription for my ailing creativity. 

"I got a fever! And the only prescription is more cowbell!"