My apologies folks: I got to a point at which I was no longer inspired by my daily photograph quota. The requirement to produce something killed the point of the exercise, and I no longer took joy in searching for interesting perspectives and quality content. Instead it took on the form of a chore, and I couldn’t afford to dislike photography. So I took a break… and here we are, four months later, and I haven’t produced a single thing.
Sure I could credit life’s activities (vacation, getting a boyfriend, losing a job, holidays, looking for a job, getting a job…) but that would be a futile grab at passing the blame. As frustrated as I become with my situation, I strive to remember who’s responsible. One must realize one’s power over environment and outlook. Recently I am prompted to mind my goals for my own life by not only financial struggles, but fostered opportunities. Friends attempt to comfort me in the statement of temporary conditions; how I’ll figure it out soon, it just takes time, yet this only agitates me all the more. I loathe the wait, toughing it out, making the best of these hard times. I was raised on the belief in creating a path, despite efforts made to restrain and imprison. Without a target to aim for, I wither and settle. This I refuse to do, ever keeping a goal within my sights, in order to retain sanity here at rock bottom. At least I’m not the only one down here!
I would like to share a bit of reflection on some of the aforementioned revelations on this world more that a few of us exist in:
We were promised the world, but by the time we came of age to inherit, there was naught left but crumbs. “You can be whatever you want to be when you grow up,” and the “American Dream” ended up to be bedtime stories, retold long past childhood; fairytales believed in by adolescents, retold and retooled to be personalized fantasies. When we finished our specialized training, in a field conjured out of whims and illusions, we were faced with, not a beautiful prize, or even a fiery challenge, but a vast desert, one which expands, consuming the forests of opportunity and revealing not even a deceiving face to blame and defeat. Armed only with a flimsy piece of paper we struggle, starve, and settle for a mediocrity which cripples our ambitions, and thus our ability to achieve lifelong happiness we came to expect from the days we were tucked in. Where we used to invent, discover, and explore, we now conform, devolving to a hamster on a wheel, suit adorned, running 9 to 5 on a track leading nowhere. At least, not anywhere we wanted to go.
Why hadn’t someone told us? So often our ideas had been corrected, why not this too? This farce, an oyster of a world awaiting our arrival, yet there is no pearl to be found. Perhaps therein lies the key; pearls are sand and dirt and trash, irritants and troubles, transformed over time, worked and molded into the final gem. We expected a proffered platter, and must prepare to labor for our small contented corner.
Don’t worry, I’ll soon get up some artistic spirit and jump behind the lens!