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Dec. 28th, 2004 01:39 amThe assignment says "List three old enemies of your creative self-worth. Be as specific as possible."
Hmmm. Okay.
1.) My sister Laurie. Laurie and I were born eleven months apart, so we're called Irish twins. As a result, we are, in a way, like yin and yang--she is aggressive where I am more passive, she is more to-the-point where I tend to beat around the bush, she is more action-oriented, whereas I'd rather curl up to a good book. She has also always shot down any claim I may have had to artistic self-worth. You name it, she hated it: my singing, my acting, and, most especially, my writing. The clearest example, which I wrote about recently, was the story that I shared with her about my days with Damon. But there were many many other examples that I could mention. It's a shame, too, because one of my favorite memories of her was when I was I was about five, and she was four, and we'd play my parents records, and dance around, singing Beatles songs at the top of our lungs. The act broke up shortly after that, however.
2.) Dr. Picozzi and Burr They were two professors in college, and I think, in some ways, these wounds affected me adversely for years. After graduating from college, there was a huge creative void--an absolute wasteland--that resulted in my decision not to pursue graduate school. In fact, this was actually a big part of the story that I let Laurie read. (And part of the reason I shared it with her, because she had always felt that Dad and Mom considered me the smart one, and I wanted to show her it just wasn't the case.
( Read more... )
3. It's easy to blame your parents, but there you go. When this book discusses the "Shadow Artist," I know that feeling. After high school, after winning an award in playwriting from The Boston Globe and first place in a theater competition for a local play that I wrote, I wanted, more than anything to attend Emerson. But what I was told was that pursuing a career in the arts was not a sensible, profitable path. I was strongly urged by my father to pursue another career--ANY other career, and, fool that I was, I went along with that, and let go of my dream, like a child letting his balloon fly off into the sky. This whole thing's really just a minor variation on what I also did with my sexuality (Laurie came out 20 years before me). But keep in mind, I was always the firstborn, the dutiful one, the good boy. (It was a great surprise for me to learn, at the funeral, that Mom considered Laurie more of a firstborn. I didn't see that one coming.) But as the book says--"the children are urged into thinking of the arts as hobbies, creative fluff around the edges of real life...if the child is encouraged to consider art in job terms at all, he or she must consider it sensibly." So: a job as a writer in Public Relations, an outside life spent directing and acting in community theater. Well, at least I get paid for that, now. But if I had a dollar for every person who said "What are you doing here..."
It's funny. Perhaps it's the hour, but looking back on these three examples, it's hard for me to really feel any bitterness or sadness about these situations. They are what they are, and it's really too late to do anything about them now except acknowledge them and move on. I no longer have any desire to dwell in the past. And I don't want to waste the time or energy. Besides, I'm really happy with where I am finally, after many years of frustration. All the circumstances of my life led me to where I am today, to who I am today, and I wouldn't change anything at all.
However, I am hungry for bigger things in the future.
Hmmm. Okay.
1.) My sister Laurie. Laurie and I were born eleven months apart, so we're called Irish twins. As a result, we are, in a way, like yin and yang--she is aggressive where I am more passive, she is more to-the-point where I tend to beat around the bush, she is more action-oriented, whereas I'd rather curl up to a good book. She has also always shot down any claim I may have had to artistic self-worth. You name it, she hated it: my singing, my acting, and, most especially, my writing. The clearest example, which I wrote about recently, was the story that I shared with her about my days with Damon. But there were many many other examples that I could mention. It's a shame, too, because one of my favorite memories of her was when I was I was about five, and she was four, and we'd play my parents records, and dance around, singing Beatles songs at the top of our lungs. The act broke up shortly after that, however.
2.) Dr. Picozzi and Burr They were two professors in college, and I think, in some ways, these wounds affected me adversely for years. After graduating from college, there was a huge creative void--an absolute wasteland--that resulted in my decision not to pursue graduate school. In fact, this was actually a big part of the story that I let Laurie read. (And part of the reason I shared it with her, because she had always felt that Dad and Mom considered me the smart one, and I wanted to show her it just wasn't the case.
( Read more... )
3. It's easy to blame your parents, but there you go. When this book discusses the "Shadow Artist," I know that feeling. After high school, after winning an award in playwriting from The Boston Globe and first place in a theater competition for a local play that I wrote, I wanted, more than anything to attend Emerson. But what I was told was that pursuing a career in the arts was not a sensible, profitable path. I was strongly urged by my father to pursue another career--ANY other career, and, fool that I was, I went along with that, and let go of my dream, like a child letting his balloon fly off into the sky. This whole thing's really just a minor variation on what I also did with my sexuality (Laurie came out 20 years before me). But keep in mind, I was always the firstborn, the dutiful one, the good boy. (It was a great surprise for me to learn, at the funeral, that Mom considered Laurie more of a firstborn. I didn't see that one coming.) But as the book says--"the children are urged into thinking of the arts as hobbies, creative fluff around the edges of real life...if the child is encouraged to consider art in job terms at all, he or she must consider it sensibly." So: a job as a writer in Public Relations, an outside life spent directing and acting in community theater. Well, at least I get paid for that, now. But if I had a dollar for every person who said "What are you doing here..."
It's funny. Perhaps it's the hour, but looking back on these three examples, it's hard for me to really feel any bitterness or sadness about these situations. They are what they are, and it's really too late to do anything about them now except acknowledge them and move on. I no longer have any desire to dwell in the past. And I don't want to waste the time or energy. Besides, I'm really happy with where I am finally, after many years of frustration. All the circumstances of my life led me to where I am today, to who I am today, and I wouldn't change anything at all.
However, I am hungry for bigger things in the future.
