Life sucks. Yeah, take that universe I’m defying you. Fuck you and your imagined omnipotence.
I don’t like writing about what I do because I’m afraid I’ll turn this blog or even just this post into some sort of new media CV, where people invest ideas in me that are so detached from reality they might imagine me as some artistic Tibetan farmer who trains warrior owls with a masters in social sciences.
Also there’s that fear that if you advertise your skills you open yourself up to the judgement of the masses, where standards have no meaning, and you’ll never be quite as ”good” as the next guy. All that said I have some skills, they serve the video industry. I’m a fast and fairly talented editor, I’m a writer and can’t stop pointing my camera at things. Do I make sketches as 99.99% of the internet does? Not often, although I have dabbled. I mostly make music video… Things…
I enjoy it a hell of a lot. I like to soak into a song imagine the image, create the image, and boom, cut it. This order swaps and gets switched around sometimes. It’s not always song to image but image to song. Why do I do this? I don’t know, maybe it’s to create my own slice of self-preservation. I don’t particularly want kids, so maybe this is something I could be remembered for. Although that sentiment doesn’t normally reach me when I’m in the middle of it. I’m to busy just being there, being creative. Doing something and making something that I can own. That no one else, not another soul of the 7 billion odd people on earth can stake a claim to.
So where do I find myself with this rather unpractical, everyday bread on the table skill set? At a crossroads. University is in-front of me. I got into a place situated inside Manchester’s media city. It’s pretty prestigious and I was recognized on the merit of my work alone, which to be honest felt amazing.
Although It’s the biggest commitment I’ve ever made. Three years. Three years toiling at something huge. is it what I want? As I maybe stagnate in a classroom will the world move on? God I hope not. There’s a woman I love and it is hard to imagine not being able to see her. I’ll have to move. It will be lonely and everyday I will miss her more than the last.
Without her I feel incomplete. The touch, the body filled with hot blood, waving curves of sinew, and skin. I can feel all that blood. Is it even your blood? How can you be sure? We share it. Then there’s the dizzy rotating feeling of hands. Hands on mine, hands across surfaces. Hands holding the little unspoken promises that mean more than any material ever could. Words in frozen time that only breaks when the touch is gone, but we long remember the stench burned into our nostrils, our bodies…
Now I wonder, where your hands are?
When will they next touch me and unravel that mystery inside. The one that haunts me every moment I’m out of your view.
I want to believe that this course will fling me into a well-paying career doing what I simply love and from there I’ll save and buy a small holding. Escape the bile of society and the obsession with the material. Become one with the land and feel connected to something more than me, responsible. After that… All I want to do is invite her there, all I can offer her is myself. Yet I’m afraid. Afraid that at one point in that plan, at one step I’ll lose track. I’ll find myself working on something I loath, or find myself outclassed by others with more refined skills. More importantly I’m afraid that in three years, maybe longer, the woman I love will be somewhere else. That I’ll appear boring or distant.
Though I’m comforted when she expresses the same fears as me, the banal worry that we might become… ”Boring”. Because that’s when I know, that she never could be to me. I can’t worry about forever.
I know we all feel cracks, we all slowly crumbling away from our perfect forms, but there’s so much time between those moments; and when we finally do fall apart, that’s when we can really see each other. Because we look out of our cracks, through ourselves and past theirs, right to the core. It wasn’t until she saw me crack that I knew, that I wouldn’t have to worry about forever. Before that we were just enjoying the idea of each other, watching the surf at the surface, but once we cracked, the light got in, and we could see it all, each other from the inside out.
We’ll never be the same.