boundcreature

Everything that I ever wanted to be seems so far away. The years of my life striving, fighting and pushing against invisible boundaries reveal themselves not as a forward march to a coveted goal, but as a misdirected trial of strength. What was I even doing for these last few years? What was I trying to become?

I am dependent. I need the assistance of someone else to get by, to make it through each and every day. It's been this way for a long time. Fifty bucks here and there from my Mom, surviving on the food from my girlfriend (whomever she may be). the occasional loan from ThePants and mostly, just not paying my bills (I generally pay the ones to real live small-business types first, but shit like Verizon or the utilities, fuck 'em). I work, always, but it seems that I have made poor choices in my business relationships and I have taken calculated risks that have failed to produce the desired results because of my inexperience and constant lack of working capital.

Worst of all, I have not been following my heart.

To me, there is no greater crime than the annihilation of self. No violation so heinous as to suppress the idiosyncratic "you-ness" that makes one individual distinct from another. And, at many times, on many occassions I have done that. Through sheer force of will, while being convinced internally that I was acting in accordance with my true wishes, I pushed myself further and further off of the true path. I always thought I had a good reason, I thought that each project would come to fruition and put me in a good place to start the projects that matter to me (as if the shortest distance between two points couldn't suddenly become a convoluted semi-ovular path that twisted through mazes and hurdled over obstacles ending not in the completion of my objective, but at the starting point of the true challenge).

Sometimes I feel like I've made a fucking mess of things, but I could really care less about that. Feeling sorry for yourself is bad, but regret is even worse. I don't regret the choices that I have made, because I never knew what else to do. I had no guidance. None. On one end of the spectrum I was told that whatever I wanted to do I would be successful at and I should just do whatever I think I should. On the other, that every choice I could make is inherently wrong and the only path to success is to shoot low, not be different and settle for whatever meager accomplishments come my way. One path not disciplined enough for success, the other, too constricting. Why must the forces of this world be so uncomfortable with mediation and harmonious realization?

When I was a kid in high school, drawing every day, there was no one who took me aside to work out a college plan or a career path -- I had no fucking idea what graphic design even was until I got to college! I'm not complaining anymore; I think what I am feeling is that if I am given no useful guidance, just left to my own devices, I am bound to make a shit load of mistakes while I try to figure things out. It just absolutely kills me inside that with so many pages turned and so many lives lived, I've still got to start with a blank slate. I never found a living artist worth looking up to, just so many compromisers trying to make a buck. Artists are pussies.

THE RAGE IS INHERENT BUT WITH NO FOCUS

I know what is wrong, but not how to do what is right. High school led to a college experience I wasn't ready for and I bailed as soon as I realized that the school might not be taking me where I wanted to go. So many teenagers take it for granted, that college follows high school, without ever stopping to realize THAT EACH DAY, HOUR, MINUTE, SECOND THEY ARE LIVING THEIR LIVES! What was I being educated for? Did I want to be able to make money when I graduated? What skills did I want, what skills did I need? No one helps you answer these questions. If you want something genuine, you have to have the courage to find your own answers. Which inevitably requires time and the patience to make mistakes... and it has consequences like debt, poverty, frustration, self-doubt and a crippling fear of moving forward on the true path.

And then, you feel it again, the ego breaking HARD against reality. That invisible forcefield, that maniacal, self-nurturing catalyst; that which made you strong, tough, fearless, admired, hated and driven; that which alienated close friends and family, that which gave you the courage to tackle seemingly insurmountable projects was bullshit. You feel like a fool when you realize that true mastery is not the domain of the twenty-four year old and that, as a martial artist, you learned that attaining the highest level is the true beginning of one's education. The distance between having the heart of an artist, raw talent and the technical craftsmanship of an artist is the Grand Canyon. One does not become whole by flying across in an airplane, but by first climbing down one side, crossing the chasm and then ardously climbing back up the other side. There is no easy way.

A few years spent making mistakes, working with people I cannot truly respect and creating work that never truly came from my heart and I am left here without enough money to pay my rent, without enough courage to pursue my dreams and dependent on my friends for survival. If I drank or did drugs, I may have reached this point sooner. Instead, when I get bummed, I watch bad tv and eat junk food like a fourteen year-old girl (being five pounds heavier hasn't helped me to reach any life-altering realizations). Even in realizing this, I have not found the last of my mistakes. Mistakes are vital. Sometimes, they present the only opportunities to learn.

I used to wish I had more people who believed in me, who knew as surely as I did that I was destined to do great things, to make a serious mark on the world. In time, I began to wish that I to believed in myself, that I had an inner-drive stronger than that of survival and self-preservation. Not one of you can look inside of my head to see the ideas that never attain full realization. For all of my pedantic wordiness, I often lack the graphic vocabulary to bring fruition to my vision. When I close my eyes, I see two graphic novels, a magazine, a comic series, a trilogy of fantasy comics, a theme park and a film; when I open my mouth, I can only describe bits and pieces to you.

The next step in my life is to figure out how to bridge that gap. Fuck working in a graphic design studio (I've hated almost every graphic designer I've ever met anyway, bunch of wankers they are). I want to improve my conceptual skills and I want to hone the raw drawing talent I have to a formidable skill. I'll be doing what I can in the next few weeks to go back to school (a different school, on my own terms) to achieve this goal.

Maybe a step back to step forward, I could care less, when you figure out what road you are supposed to be on, seems silly to do anything but to get to that road as quick as you possibly can. Fuck my ego. Fuck saving face (a snippet from Bright Eyes which ThePants was playing earlier: "You can save face but you can't save your soul.").

So, that's that really. I was wrong about a bunch of stuff, but my heart was in the right place. I was right about some stuff too. It's never as black and white as they would like it to be. So, you get no apologies from me. The most you'll get is my heartfelt thanks and apprecation for those few people who have been patient with me, truly cared about me and who have fed me and sheltered me when I unfortunately could not do those things for myself.

I am at a low point finally, with a view of the proper way to climb out of this bog. I'm sure it'll be just as difficult and require just as much stress and confusion, but I will be following my heart (as they say) and taking responsibility for myself in a way that I am past due for doing.

Oh, and I'm starting an underground culture website that will basically be a major expansion on the thematic material of this journal involving illustration, photography, articles, interviews, reviews and incitements to action. It'll be the kind of thing that separates true punk rock spirit from the bland, emo-looking pussies who have taken over the mainstream. It will shit on politics and strive to introduce the you to yourself. Interested?