These days are strange. I am old enough that the music I hear on the radio in a store is music from my childhood. Maybe it’s retro. All I know is that it sounds familiar. Sometimes I can’t place the bands exactly, but I can recognize that warmth of tone from a more innocent time. It reminds me of the first time I became aware of music, of being moved by something someone else said or did. It makes me feel like I’m on the tail end of a dream that began almost twenty years ago.

I knew that somehow I would make it here. I find myself incredibly thankful for solitude and the ability to develop as an individual. Moments like these I become aware that it all worked out exactly as it had to – as if back then, I could somehow become aware of what my future would feel like. Something has come full circle.

I begin to feel like the protagonist at the end of SLC Punk. I keep questioning: am I really giving up on my dreams? Because it sure looks like it, from the outside. But the answer on the inside is a certain no. I’m not settling either. Life is so tricky, because sometimes what appears to be pursuing your dream head on really can equate to compromising your values. Am I dependent on what other people think of me and my work in order to feel like a human being? Direct experience of life is what I have always sought and I am aware that I have it now.

I ask myself: if I didn’t have to worry about ‘making it as an artist’ and ‘making a living from my work’, what would I do?

I would travel to a distant corner of the world and experience life directly. I would get an unexpected job, unrelated to art. I would create and think. I would not worry about anything else. I realize that this is exactly what I am doing.

I no longer want a definition or a label for what I do, I just want to do it. I want to know the heart of it. Whatever I can do within my means to experience the fullness of this moment, of this life.

I exist for this tiny blip in time. That’s all it is – and somehow right now that’s fine with me.