At what point does a lifestyle choice...

Become less of a choice and more of an attempt to recontextualize one's failures as positives. In other words, at what point am I actively creating artwork with a purpose, and when am I just trying to compensate for both having non-commercial artwork, and for being too lazy to bother looking for the people willing to pay for it. Admittedly, I actively worked against myself for years. I ignored interest in my work or in my abilities because it didn't fit a very specific (yet entirely undefined) path in my life. If the opportunity wasn't what I wanted, it didn't exist. Needless to say, this was not my smartest move.

Debate aside, I will say that it's not such a terrible thing that I didn't get what I wanted. Aside from my own uncertainty and lack of direction, a complete lack of success gives me plenty of freedom to follow my heart. After all, it's awful hard to lose a career I never had to begin with.

Anywho...

Forty doesn't really feel any different than 39. I hadn't necessarily expected it to, but the way we hype up new decades, there was still this sense of curiosity about how it would feel. As par for my course, I was anxious about whether or not it would bring about more shame or anxieties around my ambitions and goals. I've achieved so very little, I expected a not insignificant amount of dread. Surprisingly, it was just a day, just a number. If anything, I feel more pathetic about my past/ image than I'd figured. It just doesn't really matter to me like I thought it would.

Thank goodness for small blessings.

Dicks for listening!