It’s been a long time since I’ve written here. I suppose there’s a number of reasons for that.. namely that this place doesn’t have the appeal for me that Xanga did. This place feels barren and cold compared to that community, however chaotic it was sometimes. Not that I don’t appreciate those folks who do read me and whom I read… it’s just different, and I feel less and less drive to write.
That’s another thing. Over the past few months, I’ve been on leave from work, due to depression. An all encompassing kind of visitor who had been tainting my every breath since last August… company I just couldn’t shake until I finally broke last January, at the dawn of a new year. My 30th year. (And no, I suppose that didn’t help either). But point being, all artwork aside, I have never spent less time on a computer. And it’s been great, honestly. I only regret that I have fallen out of touch a little, with the few online entities that are my breaths of fresh air, but essentially I’ve not been writing, because I’ve not felt the desperate need to fill my wasted time at the office, because haven’t been wasting time.
Well, hadn’t been anyway; because here I am again. Typing away at the void because my brain is screaming for me to leave like the building was on fire, and writing these words is the only thing anchoring my butt to this uncomfortable chair.
If I am back here it’s because somewhere, I failed. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t come back here, but here I am back in front of an imposed computer screen, desperate for freedom, trading the best hours of my life for meager remuneration instead of pursuing the truer passions of my heart. Like everyone else. Because really, who dreams of becoming an administrative assistant? I am not denigrating this noble profession. I have seen a great deal of wonderful administrators who make the world go round.
but still, I had promised myself I wouldn’t be here again, but here I am. That’s not to say I haven’t made progress. It’s not to say that certain things haven’t changed. They have. In fact, I’ve noticed one little thing. A beautiful, tiny little thing taking root in the depths of my mental and physical vocal chords. When people ask, I don’t call myself an administrative assistant anymore.
No, I call myself an illustrator. A designer. An artist. A doodler.
Because I have found, over the past three months that, no matter what the struggle, no matter how little else I know about such titles, no matter how much trouble I have visualizing the journey ahead and in forgetting the mistakes past… that is who I am. An artist. And that’s pretty fucking okay with me.
And I will struggle, and I will fight, and I will win some and lose some… but that is at least one thing I can be sure of.
And that’s worth being back here, for now.
Not for long, but for now.