You are what you love, not what loves you.
~Adaptation

Wow, those are great words I think. I just watched that film for the first time tonight; I highly suggest it to anyone who hasn’t seen it. Some won’t appreciate it. Some will love it. I don’t think I can put it into words yet; it is simply something that must be seen and decided by one’s self.

I’m ready for a job, ready to write, more ready, perhaps, than ever before in my life. But the economy does not agree with me. I have sent out a story to friends for the first round of criticism. There comes a point with a story that you cannot fathom how to fix it. You know there are problems. They stare you in the eye, daring you to fix them. But for the life of you it is impossible to figure out what must be done. As the author you know what you are striving for and that constantly overshadows what you see in front of you. At that point you simply have to let friends read it, suffer the blow to the ego that will undoubtedly accompany their criticism the best you can and move on. I think perhaps it is a disillusionment of sorts when people realize stories aren’t birthed from the mind whole and perfect. An idea is there, a hope, and you write towards that. You try to capture it on paper but it fails, over and over again. A friend of mine once said this to me, “It isn’t hard to write the story. That’s just shitting all over the page. The hard part is fixing it, making it good.” He put it in perspective for me. I always knew my stories could be great if I worked on them, but I never saw it through. I got the idea on paper, out of my head and cut myself off from it. I love my imagination, it’s seen me through some very rough times and having the story thought out was enough for me. But now I want more. Now I want it to help someone else. I want to write for others.

Another friend once told me it was bullshit to write for anyone but myself. Not his exact words but the idea I think. The conversation was halted before a true debate ensued so I’ll say right now I might be warping his thoughts but that isn’t the point. The point is that some people believe that. They believe it about any art, any thing. To compose, music, literature, or art, or to compete for anyone other than you is faulty. A waste of time. I disagree. I disagree strongly. A person should live for what they want to live. If it’s other people than so be it. If it’s yourself, even better. It isn’t what you live for—it’s simply that you live. Not enough people live anymore. They hide behind cynicism and big words and forget that sometimes, simpler is better. Sometimes being your own person isn’t all that much fun. Company can be entertaining.

Some have never been their own person. They are at the other end of the spectrum having only lived for others. They don’t know what it is to self indulge because all their life, joy was wrought from making other people happy. It is all about the middle of the road. If you stay in the middle of the road you never fall off into the ditch. You never careen down into the ravine. In the middle of the road it’s always safe and smooth, minus a few potholes. There is never any danger of going over the edge.

A person must first find what makes them happy. What can you love more than anyone else? What do you think about when you dream? Or what do you wish you could dream about? Not another person. It cannot have anything to do with another person. To be of use to other people you must first be of use to yourself. To be of use to yourself you must first be able to survive, happily, alone. That means you have to know yourself. You have to know what it is you love. What do you strive for? What do you want to be when you grow up? And growing up is never done until you’re dead.

While you work towards that, while you sweat and strain to reach that goal everything else is filler. It isn’t necessary that you attain that goal; it is necessary that you have it. As long as you know what it is you want than you discover everything you need to get it. While you discover everything you need to get it you find wonderful little things along the way that help pass the time on your journey. Then, and only then, are you of use to other people. Because now you can be happy on your own striving for your own goal, or you can be happy with them helping them reach theirs. But when they drain you, when you are tired of them you can step back and retreat to your place, to your dreams. That is the key. Your dreams rejuvenate you. Striving to make yourself a better person for purely selfish reasons keeps you balanced that you can be there for others when they need you. That way you can always be there for others because you haven’t burned out.

Writing and music are my dreams. I do them inherently for me. I write a story to affect people, provoke a reaction. I perform to inspire people, entertain. But ultimately it is for me, even though the intent is to affect them. By affecting them I fulfill my own personal, selfish dream. We are at heart selfish. That isn’t a bad thing. The key is to understand the selfishness. Know how much is needed to survive and maintain sanity. That way you can help others at no real cost to yourself. It makes you happy to help others so the act is in fact selfish not selfless. But making helping them is what you’re doing so the selfish act seems selfless. Everyone goes home happy. Isn’t that better than destroying yourself for people you end up hating in the end?

Life is easier when you love it.