Lay back, call off the attack
'cause if you look deep dreams
are nothing that I lack.
And all I seek:
a final chance to speak
and I would let the whole thing keep
if I could just sleep.
Let's pretend that we do have an audience here in this blog. And let's assume that that our pretend audience aren't airheads.
See, I can do a lot of creative things: drawing, music making, poetry, storytelling. Disappointingly, though, I am not especially good in any of those things that I can do. Therefore, when I make stuff, the end product can be very confusing and misleading and, on some occasions, even offensive. And that's with me not intending to be confusing, misleading, and offensive. I suppose that's what we mediocre artists will always have to live with.
And this isn't me trying to put myself down (I have no reason to). I've known— and still know— a lot of people who are just brilliant. Brilliant without even trying. It's really a gift that they have; that they can scribble some shit on a napkin and it just looks amazing or they can make a cheap instrument (a tunog-lata guitar) sound high-end simply by noodling on it.
I don't have that gift. I am not like them. I struggle most of the time. And I end up with hints of what could have been great stuff if only I had been brilliant.
It's not so bad. All of the brilliant people I know are, in their own special way, crazy. And I know that this can sound like I'm sour-graping but I am honestly comfortable in being simple and mediocre if it means that I don't get to be crazy. I don't want to be crazy. Because being crazy hurts people. And being crazy often insulates one from the guilt that comes with hurting people.
I don't want to be brilliant.
But I want to keep on creating. Because even if what I create seldom fulfills my intentions, the process of creation simply makes me feel good. It's the journey, not the destination— or so they say. And because I know that I am not crazy, I also know that I am not hurting any one. Or, at least, I couldn't hurt any one as badly as a brilliant person could.
So, let's go back to our pretend audience: if you think that you're reading about yourself but you're unsure, you're most probably wrong. That person would know who they are and they will be certain (unless they're an airhead). And if that person where to ask, “what do you want to get out of all of this?”
Just one thing.
Forgiveness— for any discomfort that my stuff may be causing. That wasn't and never will be the intention.