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|I've never seen a which
|It's not even worth the effort. I've exhausted all of my mental capacity, forcing what's not there into artistic outlets I'm mediocre at. |
Sure, I can paint a picture that's applauded by art school kids but I couldn't tell you a damn thing about depth perception or lighting. I can write you a song but I can't explain music theory or chord progression, or lack thereof. It'll just be another amateur produced GarageBand track consisting of 4 chords with redundant loops behind drum beats I didn't make. I can write you a story that might make you smile for awhile, but you'll forget about it the next time you stumble accross another angst-filled rant with words you can't pronounce.
I'm not an artist.
I'm not a musician.
I'm not a writer.
Infact, I laugh at myself when I'm called those.
Rather, I'm a medley of the three, endlessly seeking to create a masterpiece.
It's hard to have an esteem in the arts. I mean take music, I look at a band like Lydia. Their album, Illuminate, is one of the most riviting, inspiring, and innovative album I've heard in years. How can I call myself a 'musician' when I look at an album like this? It's perfect. I'll never be able to top it or even come close.
How can I call myself an artist when I see pieces of art created by geniouses that live down the street from me? I mean they're serving my food to pay for their tremendous talent; without recognition or fame.
How can I call myself a writer when there are the Vonnegut's, the Hemmingway's, and the Bukowski's? Even AnAmericanGod, a member on this very site living among us. I'll never move people people the way he does.
You're probably thinking "why are you self-deprecating and unconfident?" Well, I don't know. I wish I could be free and just create without erasing, deleting, and re-recording, but I can't. I'm a perfectionist.
Perfectionists never create a masterpiece, nothing's good enough for them.
|Tags: rant, art, writing, music, lydia,