January 6, 2009
Flying home from Paris to Chicago.
I think the world would be much more mysterious if Bob Dylan soundtracked our lives. I'd constantly wonder what those people were up to. Or what plans they were making for their futures. Maybe that's just a result of my current re-emergence into America, and listening to Bob Dylan at 35,000 feet high and 500 mph fast.
There's a significant fear I have for my being back to normal life. I think it stems from itself, normal life. I don't want it. If I do, I want the characteristics of "normal" to only include a consistency of new things, all the time. I'm scared that I'll allow my environment to convince my mind into a pessimistic mentality. I want my eyes wide and an appreciation for it, always. I guess I'll have to take one thing at a time. And remind myself that I'm a very small part of the overwhelming world. And that being wrong about things isn't all that bad; you can always learn in new ways. And that no one really ever leaves your life for good. We all come and go.
As far as what I do goes: art. I'm still unsure about my plans, my beliefs, and maybe I always will be. But I seem to employ the mentality that art is bigger than its own given context: art. It's a really efficient way of learning about ourselves and hopefully others as well, about themselves as well. It aids in the process of progress. Even if the viewer feels nothing, the hope and inspiration in the growing process for myself may lead to productive thought. To digress from this thesis-esque writing, I like making stuff. I like the way my brain works and figuring out new ways of looking at how my brain responds to new things. I look forward to exploring the way I work and to encouraging others to do the same.
I want to be more tolerant. Aggressive impatience for others' growth or ways is pointless. You can't expect everything out of everyone. Why? Why should I? It seems crazy expecting anything out of anyone in this context. Or selfish or something. I just want to make sure I stay cooled down, slowed down, when I'm back. I feel like I was so heated five months ago. Angry about so many things when there was nothing to be angry about. There still isn't. It's a gift, what I have. It's excessive and extra. I'm lucky for what I have an lucky to have been tolerated over the years. I'm not sure I would've tolerated me. My time away has been incredible and has opened my eyes so much to so much. I have to go back and clean up the mess I made.