The Diary of Queen Mothy |
A Musing written @ 10:17 PM on January 27, 2004 Lately I've found myself in an interesting position because of my two majors. Do I run the risk of not getting as far as I want to in my college career because one side thinks I'm more devoted to the other and thus won't deal me as many opportunities? Perhaps it is too soon to tell. I don't think my meddle has yet been tested-- but most certainly will be by the time I need to do my senior projects. A few things are certain about the state of my life now: one, I have hardly any free time, and if I manage to scrounge a few hours to go out for coffee or visit Christine, I lose out big time by compromising my rigorous work schedule later when I come not nearly as prepared to, say, production meetings for the show. Second, I've finally admitted to myself that I'm getting very little out of all my long hours invested in my work; I'm gambling on the hope that this gratification is just not of the immediate kind-- and that I'm not simply getting screwed, too. On the other hand, my life is progressing very much in a storybook fashion, as it almost always has. But people ask, "Sam, why the hell do you put yourself through all this?" Firstly, I believe strongly in the genuine mission of my artwork in both art and theater-- so the bottom line is that I choose to do it. That is the power I have in my hands, that power of choice. If I really wanted to, I could throw it all away and instantly change my major to history or education or perhaps some low key career field in which to occupy the expanse of time left in my life. However, one could also argue that I've invested too much, sacrificed too much, and demanded too much from myself to easily give it all up and throw it away like yesterday's trash. The phrase "in too deep to pull out" rings somewhat true here. I suppose what irks me in the end is what I've known all along: most artists don't earn respect or notoriety until after their deaths. Let me say right now that I was never after the notoriety or fame (even though it is true that you will rarely sell a canvas for $20 without a little bit of that); rather, all I've ever wanted was just some respect and a curt nod, some sort of indication that my artwork has somehow aided in the progression of higher thought, invoked emotion, and lent a bit of magic to theater performance in the meantime. What's the point of this entry? I guess it's simply for me to figure things out and justify all the work-related stress. (Or lie to myself, take your pick.) What do I really want? I've thought about this, and even if I never get that tiny bit of respect I'm after, all I want is for someone to be waiting for me back home to tell me only, "Don't worry. It wasn't a waste." I know in my heart that it's not a waste, so even though my words here seem empty and slightly ridden of hope, I maintain my humored, vibrant character everyday. I may look exhausted, pale, and like my cat was just run over by a car, but in truth I am exhilarated. Remember the movie Life is Beautiful, where the main character upholds his integrity and vivacious humor in the face of tragedy and a certain doom. I can sort of relate to that in my current situation. The only difference, I suppose, in comparing my situation with that of a Nazi death camp, however, (and I try not to be so dramatic in that effect) is that my tragedy is not death and doom, of course, but simply this: in the end no one, no matter how well you think you may know me, will completely understand what I sacrificed. *** My palpable exhaustion has prompted my better angels' trilling for me to go home and visit my mom for the weekend. I might. I might not. I haven't yet decided, and my checklist for this weekend is already growing. I would very much like to, but I don't know if it's feasible at this point. I feel like I should go home because of Mom. I get the feeling that I should be supporting her more than I do now in times that are proving to be very difficult for her. As cryptic as this may sound, I don't think she failed in love; love failed her. And that's all I'll say about that. *** My set designs for A Piece of My Heart are proceeding along nicely. I have a few issues to work out as far as exits and masking go, but otherwise Mike has been very supportive of my plans. My troubles have been primarily in learning about what can and can't be done in the Black Box Theatre, and then translating my ideas into CAD format. But I think my experience with such issues will improve over time. Ron is my advisor, since this is the first show I'm designing for in the department. I kind of had a feeling this would happen, but because he's worked in the space for forever and a day and has his conventions for design, I think he's a little wary of some of my ideas. But oh well. Magic is what we're after, not predictability. Anyhoo, I'm tired. The weather around here has been obnoxious with two snow storms in three days. There might be another one on the way. Yikes.
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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