Passion
Thoughts on Passion.
There is nothing more esthetically satisfying than taking a pen or pencil to a piece of empty paper. It is the creation of a child living in a new world entirely of his own; freedom for themselves and the power you feel knowing it is you who are in control of everything. There is nothing like it. Life may be a wonderful place to live, but writing is a life of wonder.
I wish to express my greatest passion, over my others; while great, are simply insignificant to the ability to craft words from air and spin them into a flower, a loving hand, or a nightmare. It gives you a sense of belonging with the great creators of the world; Beethoven, DaVinci, Poe, or even more. It gives me such a high. This feeling of magnificence. Sometimes, I write even for myself, never intending to show it to anyone. My own little greedy creation, by and for only me.
I dabbled with music, I stumbled with speaking, and I could never have steady hands enough for art. This gift, and a curse, is not anything but a way for me to speak out what I cannot express in any other way. Where my charisma ends, my pen resumes. It sounds bizarre, but I need this simple skill to live. How else would I let other people truly know how I feel? There is no other way.
I don't know how you could consider selling writing. You cannot barter off your speeches, nor can you bottle up and sell your thoughts. So, why can people think they have the right to constrict themselves into a shallow occupation? My passion isn't a monkey to be performed for coin in front of an audience of fools ready to pay for what should be free. My brother hopes to become the professional writer. That is all fine and good, but what about when the finances begin to affect the passion? The snake you were holding out bends back to bite you. I believe that we should be able to apply our passions freely, without any motivation by money or love or hate or even life itself.
We live in a world where what we do has brainwashed us into thinking we enjoy doing it. What we want to do and what we do are two completely independent things. It is as simple as stated.
I wish to express my greatest passion, over my others; while great, are simply insignificant to the ability to craft words from air and spin them into a flower, a loving hand, or a nightmare. It gives you a sense of belonging with the great creators of the world; Beethoven, DaVinci, Poe, or even more. It gives me such a high. This feeling of magnificence. Sometimes, I write even for myself, never intending to show it to anyone. My own little greedy creation, by and for only me.
I dabbled with music, I stumbled with speaking, and I could never have steady hands enough for art. This gift, and a curse, is not anything but a way for me to speak out what I cannot express in any other way. Where my charisma ends, my pen resumes. It sounds bizarre, but I need this simple skill to live. How else would I let other people truly know how I feel? There is no other way.
I don't know how you could consider selling writing. You cannot barter off your speeches, nor can you bottle up and sell your thoughts. So, why can people think they have the right to constrict themselves into a shallow occupation? My passion isn't a monkey to be performed for coin in front of an audience of fools ready to pay for what should be free. My brother hopes to become the professional writer. That is all fine and good, but what about when the finances begin to affect the passion? The snake you were holding out bends back to bite you. I believe that we should be able to apply our passions freely, without any motivation by money or love or hate or even life itself.
We live in a world where what we do has brainwashed us into thinking we enjoy doing it. What we want to do and what we do are two completely independent things. It is as simple as stated.
Post Comment
