[ 3 min read ]
Diary of an artist, Wednesday, July 17, 2019
Woke up 4:45 am
I’m fascinated by the evolution of my thinking. What I’m also fascinated by is the fact that it evolved thanks to my peculiarities. Or, as many would say, my “weirdness”.
The way I live my life is the antithesis of my mother’s idea of how life should be lived. Many other people who know me also can’t wrap their heads around the way I live. They believe one can’t live like that. Certain things are missing (the things which, they know, are essential — which people who are normal need). Certain things (weird things, weird habits) developed, which nobody needs (or, to be more precise, which nobody who’s normal needs). Still other things are not the way they are supposed to be (often they’re the reverse of what is supposed to be).
Maybe because I’m becoming a living proof that we can live our lives differently. Maybe I am such living proof already. To myself definitely. Maybe that’s what all those who until recently believed that there is only one way a person can go through life (I mean they believed you either do it that way or you’ll screw it all up) don’t like? Maybe they don’t like seeing those living proofs? Maybe it bothers them in some way? Maybe it bothers them because their conviction that life can’t possibly be lived differently was so strong? That one has to be cut from a different cloth or born into wealth, royalty or fame to be able to go against the current; that it is unavailable to the rest of the society.
Or maybe it doesn’t bother them because they see that life can be lived differently (they still believe that it can’t be lived differently — they are so convinced about the rightness of the conventional path that they will never conclude that other paths are viable). They will still wait for the day when they will be able to tell those who rebelled, went against the current, “See! And you thought you could do it differently. Didn’t I / we tell you? I / We warned you. But, of course, you didn’t want to listen to us. I just can’t believe you were so naive!”
Maybe it bothers them that someone even dares to question the conventional way. Even when they know (are convinced) that it’s obvious that questioning it makes no sense. It’s obvious to them (they know it for a fact) that nobody has (ever will have) a better idea, but somehow it bothers them anyway.
And it’s almost (or not almost) as if they’re pissed that you dared to question all this. Your choice, your opposition, your rebellion, it wasn’t just it. It was also something else. To them it was also something else. It was almost (or not almost) an insult. An insult that you dared to question their shit. And the funny (interesting) thing is that they’ll even feel that way if you’ll say nothing bad about the conventional path. Even if you’ll never judge them. Even if you’ll never say in their faces that what you’re doing is the right thing and what they’re doing isn’t. It’s enough that you’ll think and act differently. This alone is enough to piss them off.
Music for this writing session: Max Richter (on spotify)