Creative turmoil. Having the ability without the means. The process to bring my art into fruition meets many roadblocks. Even lacking a simple table proves an obstacle. Also age feels a burden these days. If I were younger I'd have grown up in a world with better access to the tools and steps required to meet my potential. All I know is how being so naive and anxious drowned countless opportunity. I admit it all sounds a bit whiney, and it is.
Have you ever had a huge desire to learn, everything? The manic plight of being pulled into many directions, a-buzz with ideas and a laughably inexistent focus to achieve a single one? All I really need is a plan. A path to follow. But pouring myself into a dream starts that drowning feeling. Pretty soon I'm gasping for air, stranded on a desolate beach somewhere, very singular and feeling dire. Elation and exasperation. But my art is not brooding or sober to the plight of mankind. It isn't heavy so the angst this routine provides doesn't fuel my artistic fire. It's silly and playful and meant to be buoyant. Drat that sinking gravity when it pulls me under.
Heck, I'm being melodramatic and I know it. That's my nature.
Life rushes by. How do you get a handle on it?