Even in school I was a slacker.
I would do no homework, classwork nor did I want to do any projects.
(Well, save for those really cool science experiments, those were the shit!)
But, everything else? Nah. I wanted to have fun, joke around and be the class clown. Just be a complete ass.
And I loved it.
However, one thing remained consistent within all the shenanigans*; I always wrote.
*Btw, totally fucked that word up before spell check intervened.
I would write these scripts to these really out there stories! The thing I enjoyed most about them was the fact that I was able to read them to my friends after school and you know, it was an awesome feeling getting them to laugh. I guess it confirmed that my sense of humor isn’t all that bad.
Why am I talking about this? Well, I was speaking with the most awesome woman in the world, my grandmother, about what made me want to just leave the world of technology and just get into writing. It was when I was telling her about what I did in school that made me realize that I always had the fire in me to write. I just kept putting it out so that I could get a “Real Job” as the adults call it.
Oh yeah, I got a “Real Job”. Tbh, I felt the urge to do something more everyday and yes, technology is very lucrative and it is a very rewarding area to work in and I am extremely fortunate to be in this field. However, in my heart, I am still that kid in high school writing those scripts, scribbling those comics and coming up with something weird to write about. This is not a summary of my maturity but it is more of a declaration of the kid in me that I refuse to let go in spite of my physical being progressing chronologically.
I feel that is the difference between us and them; Us the artist, they, the ones who can work a 9 to 5 by choice. We hold on to our creativities and our imaginations and as long as we don’t let that die, we will never truly die.
We write out our imaginations and they live on beyond us and we are forever remembered at that point in our lives, at our most clear of clarities.
I don’t know where anything I write is destined to go. It could be dug up millions of years later or, it can go straight to the trash can of the many people I have shown my work to. What I do know is that I will do this till my fingers can’t type anymore and even then, if my mind is still sound, I will hire someone to type it out for me as I dictate. I don’t care what it takes, I just know that I will never give up on myself.
Neither should you.
And this is coming from a professional slacker.