I mean ... I sound like the whiniest bitch on earth now, don't I? The guy who truly deserves never to become an author or writer or artist or what the hell he wants ... because he can't make a choice and focus.
The laughable guy, the pitiable guy. The guy I thought others was. Not me.
The guy who just is a Fail in one big and important regard and will remain so until he is 80 and then he dies and is put on the heap. The heap of Very Much Unfulfilled Lives. The heap of people who were not introspective enough, not determined enough, not courageous enough. Who just ... wavered.
But, I thought, fine.
I'm 43 years old very soon. I'm going to be a father. And I have been a wavering whiny bitch.
But I accept that. Because if there is one thing I don't want to be anymore, it is afraid.
I accept that I am a wavering indecisive whiny bitch when it comes to picking art projects. I accept that I may very well, ludicrously as it sounds, live until 80 and die with lots of unfulfilled creative and commercial potential.
Fine. So be it.
But if there is one thing that is more scary than that, then it is to let that fear rule me. And let it destroy everything else that I can and should appreciate in life.
I won't let that happen.
Then ... at some point, give or take a baby's upbringing and 1001 stressful workdays, there will be more order in the apartment again.
Or elsewhere. Or in my head. Whatever comes first ...
Order enough so I feel better about sitting down somewhere and drawing for longer. In a suitable, good enough space. So it is actually physically possible to do it!
But the very first thing to do is to keep those embers in that space where they need to be always, no matter what:
Maybe I - we - want so much to be perfect because we have been taught early on that a 'pure record' is the only way to be appreciated.
In school. By parents. By peers.
Maybe. It seems deeply ingrained.
And obviously critique, even if it's just someone with a need to tell me I said "right" too many times during a live-talk - that still gets to me, despite years of experience.
But what are the standards? Who gets annoyed by 12 "rights"? Who gets annoyed by 25? Who gets annoyed by 5 in a row? Who feels 5 in a row constitutes the whole talk? And so on ...
These kinds of critical questions usually short circuit when I am critiqued. I have to make an effort to call them up.
I'll do better next, certainly, when I give a live-talk.
Afterwards I'll ask ALL of the right questions about how I actually performed.