The Boyfriend Diet

I learned a lot of things in my undergrad:

If you’re early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late. If you’re late, you’re fired.

I also learned that:

To go up, you must go down.

(Whatever that’s supposed to mean). 

But one of the most important things I learned about myself is this: I am an Artist. I’m not a painter; I am physically incapable of anything essentially within the fine arts realm. No, I am not a fine arts artist. But… I am a musician. I am a singer. I am an actor. I am a dancer. 

I was told that I was an artist by my first semester acting teacher, and it was explained to me and told to me in such a way, as though this was such important information to never forget. It was as a revelation that needed to be kept close to heart at all times.

What I am is something that not all people will ‘get’ or ‘understand.’ Much like how ‘hands on’ people learn differently than ‘audio learners,’ or ‘visual learners,’ artists feel things and observe life differently than non-artists. Essentially, I remember being told that as an artist, and particularly as an artist in the entertainment industry, our families most likely will not fully understand us, or what it is that we feel we need to do, or our constant need to create. 

It didn’t really register for me what this meant until this year. What some people may consider to be minor or trivial things, sometimes I take with great seriousness. Some things that maybe cause no second thought or glance to some can deeply affect me. Every emotion I feel is never half-assed…It is always full fledged. Some might call it bipolar or some other mental disorder. And maybe for some, that’s what it is. But I believe its because I am not like your average Joe. But it suddenly made sense to me this year—why no one in my family understands the feelings I feel, or the reasons I do things the way I do them. Or why I can’t seem to find where I belong; Why no state I’ve lived in has brought contentment; Why getting accepted into 3 schools in IE still have not made me excited; Why I am absolutely terrified of the unknown. 

It can be a truly lonely existence. And I imagine I’ll always feel this loneliness, this knowing that unless I’m in the presence of artists (but even then we can still be so unalike) I shall never be understood. Maybe I can become numb to this loneliness. The drive for artistry is an art entirely in itself, and I don’t know if any artist has truly mastered it. It could be that it is against our nature. But there it is—there are the cards out on the table.