JopezStags

Sometimes you stop and take a look at yourself and all you can think is, "How did I end up here?"  It is only then can you look back upon all the choices you made.  When you do, what do you see?  It isn't yourself, it is someone else.  A person you knew long ago and wish you could forget.

There are many triumphs from the past and many mistakes.  It isn't so much the triumphs that changed person you see, it is the mistakes.  Even time cannot heal those.  And at times it shouldn't.  The triumphs belong to that person in the past. Those mistakes and the lessons learned belong you.   It is something you carry.

And for this you are better.  Yet, you still stand there and ask why?  Sometimes you want to reach into the past and... and do what? Prevent them from making the mistake?  That would serve no purpose. They only knew what they knew.  In turn, it isn't so much that you desire to change your past but to forgive yourself.

As if to tell that person from long ago, "It's okay, everything will be just fine."  Only then is it clear that life goes on.

This is something that is inherently obvious, yet I feel we are so blind to it.  We go on with life but we fail to forgive ourselves for the mistakes we have made.  I don't know if we ever can.  No one has all the answers to why.  No one ever will.  Then again, what do I know?  I'm just sitting at my computer late at night, staring off into the night contemplating the world.

I know I should sleep. I'm actually sitting on my bed. But I also have my laptop open to a blank page.  The white screen fills my room as a metaphysical representation of my latest writers block.  There is no deadline, no urgent need to finish this script, this scene.  Yet, I am still unable to bring myself to close my screen.

I do not know what drives me.  The feeling that maybe an idea will come in the next minute.  But hours go by and I do not know where I want to take the characters.  Then I realize, in sudden revelation, that I cannot pull the characters in any direction.  These characters, in themselves, are alive and are taking me on a journey.  Just right now, they want to take a break.

Thus, I sit awake late into the night, waiting.  When they are ready they will let me know and their story will continue.  It could be the late night after a long day.  But it feels right.  It is satisfying knowing that my characters exist within themselves and not because I just dictate.

And how crazy this must all sound.  Yet, when you think about it.  It makes sense, we strive to create characters we can relate with, characters that feel like real people.  Thus, what is so wrong with treating them as such when writing? I do not see an issue, although, if you start to see me write about how I'm going to have coffee with them, then yes, I might be crazy.

I think I'll sit here awhile longer staring into white nothingness and enjoying every minute of it.

Sometimes the hardest thing to do in art is to stop.  To realize when it's time to put down that brush, pencil, pen or stylus.  A lot of times, we work and work on a piece only to realize it was perfect fifteen minutes ago.  Then we work and work it trying to get it back to that point.  It seems that we do this because that's how we live.

In life we continue to work at something seeking the moment of perfection, only to realize that we're twenty steps beyond it already.  Perfection is never known until you've gone by it.  I would liken this to music.  When I tune an instrument, I have to tune it sharp then flat before I can tell where the note actually is.  This is the same way for art, we have to start and then go beyond before we can come back to what we know is right.

This is a problem though, if you add that extra brush stroke it could ruin a masterpiece.  How doe we find the balance, where we know we should stop and say, "Okay, I'm done."  I don't think there is any given rule.  It is something that an artist learns over time.  At the same time it is good we can't determine that perfection, it's what makes it art, that is has each artist's own imperfections in the piece.

Again, I go back to my music.  I always tell my fellow musicians that there is no such thing as a perfect performance.  Never has been and never will be.  You will always make a mistake and the audience won't care unless you show it.  Same goes for art.  Even if you can't get the piece to be absolutely perfect in your eyes, your audience will still appreciate it.  I suppose most people would call this being your own worst critic.

But that's a good thing.  It's a constant drive to move forward and improve ourselves.  We just have to learn not to obsess over it too much.  Stop for a second and realize, it's just like life, nothing is perfect and that's what makes it great.

"Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish."