The Fight To Express Myself- Stories To Tell

Sometimes I feel like communicating my thoughts and feelings is an enormous struggle that is more trouble than it is worth. If you have spent any time reading the blog you know that this isn’t a new thing. I like to think of it as being part and parcel of being a tortured artist.

However it seems to me that in order to be a tortured artist one must first be an artist. So I suppose that I should try and figure out how to pass myself off as an artist. We’ll start with singing in which case torture is probably an appropriate description. If I were to sing you might feel as if you were being tortured.

On a serious tack there are a whole host of things that I wish that I could do that I am not real good at now. Singing is one of those things. I’d like to have the kind of voice that enabled me to sing songs that would make your heart feel like it was going to burst from your chest.

Better yet give me the voice and make me a piano virtuoso. Give me the skills to play/write songs that make the whole world sing. And yes I know who I am referencing.

But chances are that I am not suddenly going to gain either skill. The voice I have works well for a lot of things, but song is not one of them. At 39 it is unlikely that I am going to discover that I am an incredible musician. Not impossible, but not likely.

If I were a sullen, morose and bitter man I might spend time lamenting how unfair life is. Because let’s face it, sometimes life sucks. In the movies the good guys almost always win, but that is why they are movies. In the real world the good guy watches as the love of his life shacks up with his nemesis and then discovers that he has some obscure cancer that ravages his body.

But since I am not that sullen, morose and bitter man I do my best to devise alternatives. I have stories to tell. My head is filled with images, movies of people, places and things that I want to share.

When I was younger I used to kid around with friends about writing a book and or producing a movie. But suddenly I find myself taking a harder look at this. Who says that I can’t do these things. What is to prevent me.

If I can chase the Ironman, then I can chase after these things too. If you asked me what set me on this path I could point to a bunch of different things. I could share the story of the friend who watched the love of his life walk away. I can recite more stories than I care to admit about friends who died tragic young deaths as well as those who were a bit older, but not quite old enough to be spoken of as having lived a full life.

So it is really a number of things that are driving me. Is any of this significant. Is any of this meaningful. Well, I don’t know if you’ll relate to this or not. If you’re making checklists of my pros and cons I can’t say if this is going to add or subtract from your report.

I just know that life is short and that your job is to figure out what makes you happy. It is not something that anyone else can do. Not everyone figures it out, but if you do…

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