HEY APATHY! Surreal Comics
Today was a day of revelation. Often times in our lives we mark occasions with celebrations as a signifier of growth, change, existence or triumph. Although us westerner’s seldom openly attach the quest for satori to our festivities, like a first nations adolescent seeking a spirit guide our rituals also conjure new perspectives, thoughts and ideas. Does the newly appointed CEO not feel a surge of super-humanity following the announcement and subsequent round of drinks? Strangely enough though these ceremonies seem to have an equal tendency to resurrect feelings of despair as they do joy. Take for example the New Year’s Eve ceremony. While many look forward, shedding past misfortunes and breeding future prospect, other’s still are forced to wallow in shame for missed opportunities or paths mistakenly taken. As the ball drops lover’s mingle, entrepreneurs plot, children stay up late and a few of us who can’t take it anymore send the old year off the side of an unguarded bridge.
As the surface water breaks with a crescendo splash, one can only wonder if the party was actually so dull as to instigate the early exit. However, from what I have observed it is seldom the physical affair but rather the psychological implications regarding the celebrations which initiates despair. Of course there are many whose social anxieties and fear of coloured balloons have sent them over the edge ( Party Clowns seem also to be notorious in this fashion), but for the most part it is the comparative significance of judgement exemplified by a predetermined ideal lifestyle which brings about the darkness. That is to say that each festivity marks a certain stage in the subjects life whereas a certain number of specific achievements should have been accomplished. A two year old should talk, the eighteen year old should drive and the twenty seven year old must be wealthy.
These sorts of standardized expectations are intrinsically attached to almost any celebratory event, whether it be consciously or otherwise. Enter the more horrific of them all the dreaded birthday. On this lovely day several people get together to share stories, gifts, and marvel at the fact so and so hasn’t been hit by a bus yet as so many of us had anticipated. Here the victim of nature gets an entire day with which to grade his or hers success in life up to that point and in comparison to others who’ve lived as long and done well for themselves. At first these days appear joyous but as the years role by the weight of ones past failures begins to gain mass. And this is where I have found myself and unsettling revelations, today.
I was born on this very day at this exact moment 159 years ago. Obviously I’ve not lived my life accordingly as one, I’ve been alive far too long, two I am not yet showing my age, and three I never followed the rules known and accepted by society. No instead of following the regular treatments, my life has been entirely devoted to the pursuit of dreams. Not once, in all of those years did I compromise my hearts desires in order to achieve what most claim as success. I never studied anything I wasn’t interested in, I’ve never worked a job I didn’t want, and I have never succumbed to the mass systemic programming which passes for satisfaction in the guise of purchase. I have taken and extended all my of life to practice and perfect my dreams.
As rewarding as this may sound, it has also become of the most terrifying significance on this my 159th birthday. Despite all my dedication and devotion today I have finally accepted the final fact, these dreams will never come true. For all my hours in the studio I still cannot write a poem, sing a song , paint a picture or star in a movie. I’ve tried, lord knows I’ve tried, but in 159 years of attempts not a single success. Not even in private. In fact rarely did I ever see fit any of my “talents” to introduce them to the outside world. Not that I’ve ever cared about fame mind you, only in the perfection of the art. The attention could only be a resultant of exceptional work and never the goal itself. Perhaps therein lies my downfall? Regardless no matter how skilled I became a small voice in the back of my mind kept repeating “ you’re just not good enough”.
I never really listened to the voice nor assigned it’s criticism any merit before but today, today, my bliss has broken and my ignorance shattered. I’ve seen people rise and fall, and even rise again, over and over while, stubborn as I am, I kept practicing, hoping to someday live out my dreams. I don’t know why but today the dreams passed and I came to an intolerably monstrous revelation. It’s like for a long duration of my life all the people of importance were older than myself and I would one day grow to be one of them. There was potential in my youth. Now, and seemingly suddenly, I am over 125 years older than almost every person of note and have never done anything noteworthy, or at least I shunned to share any of it with the outside world.
So the deep dark revelation that has overwhelmed me as I stand on the edge of this unguarded bridge is age. Time has passed me by regardless of my decided inability to acknowledge it. Today I have a wrinkled forehead and tomorrow I will be dust. Today I am no one and tomorrow I’ll be even less. No stage, no band, no movies, no museums. There is nothing to be done about it though for I’ve tried everything I ever wanted to try. It simply didn’t work.
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