The Best of Times, The Worst of Times
I'm used to melancholy. I have no problem admitting that my life has been more failure than success, and that my early years were a very uneven time in my life - the usual joys of childhood coupled with inexplicable despair. I'm sure that were I child today I'd be quickly jacked up on ritalin or whatever other quick-fix pharmaceutical they are throwing at whatever I might have. In any case, if I did suffer from any ailment (a good chance of it - apparently over 70% of people working in the arts have a diagnosable mental condition - go figure) then I was left to suffer through it as best I could. Hence, I got used to melancholy.
Fast-forward to adulthood (whatever that is) and suddenly I find that I can move beyond the things that made me unhappy when I was younger. Indeed, I have accomplished much: an education, published works, a career (albeit not a lucrative one as of yet), and I wake up every morning with no one to answer to save for my audience. All that, and the world's greatest girlfriend. It's true, I do have much to worry about - just ask anyone running their own business and you'll get a laundry list of concerns, almost all of them about how much money is going in and how much money is going out, and I do worry about these things. But for all my concerns, things aren't nearly as bad now as they used to be. In fact, most days I have no reason not to be downright happy with myself and all that I have.
But I'm used to melancholy. Being sad is an excuse to procrastinate, a place to hide from the world, a way to overlook the obvious flaws one could remove to improve oneself. It is an easy place to get comfortable in.
I wrote this post today because I was feeling melancholy for no apparent reason. Yes, I have much to be sad about - two shows with no marketing budgets would be a good start - but I also have much, much more to be happy about, to take pleasure in. Writing this posting, working on my company, that's the easy part, and it makes me feel good while doing it. It's just the forcing myself to start down that road of productivity that is hard. Thanks for your indulgence while I made that leap.
Fast-forward to adulthood (whatever that is) and suddenly I find that I can move beyond the things that made me unhappy when I was younger. Indeed, I have accomplished much: an education, published works, a career (albeit not a lucrative one as of yet), and I wake up every morning with no one to answer to save for my audience. All that, and the world's greatest girlfriend. It's true, I do have much to worry about - just ask anyone running their own business and you'll get a laundry list of concerns, almost all of them about how much money is going in and how much money is going out, and I do worry about these things. But for all my concerns, things aren't nearly as bad now as they used to be. In fact, most days I have no reason not to be downright happy with myself and all that I have.
But I'm used to melancholy. Being sad is an excuse to procrastinate, a place to hide from the world, a way to overlook the obvious flaws one could remove to improve oneself. It is an easy place to get comfortable in.
I wrote this post today because I was feeling melancholy for no apparent reason. Yes, I have much to be sad about - two shows with no marketing budgets would be a good start - but I also have much, much more to be happy about, to take pleasure in. Writing this posting, working on my company, that's the easy part, and it makes me feel good while doing it. It's just the forcing myself to start down that road of productivity that is hard. Thanks for your indulgence while I made that leap.
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