Waiting for Godot?
Whenever I have second thoughts about the career choices I’ve made so far, I always justify them by saying to myself that I’m doing this so I can have the financial freedom to pursue my passions. i.e., writing and exploring photography and film. But now that I’ve sort of gained a free-er financial rein and a more flexible sked, I am left waiting for my muse.
Every night, I open my friendster, click on ‘update blog’ to start working on something… but then nothing comes to me. Maybe I’m still reeling from the drastic shift in lifestyle. Or worse, I might be assimilating the whole materialistic bourgeois crap I used to vilify. Maybe, to the extent that it’s dulled my aesthetic and social sensibilities. Like if I made an essay or a short story, maybe it would then just be impertinent self-glorifying musings fermented by boredom.
That makes me think though. Would I be a better artist if I were poor and struggling?
Is suffering a necessary ingredient of ‘good’ art?
Perhaps not. But surely the human experience is. And I feel that with a consciousness that is inundated with the ephemera of materialism, one tends to be too callous to see the whole spectrum of this experience, not only for oneself but moreso for others. Even outside the concept of suffering, one can lose sight of genuine feelings of joy when one is overwhelmed by the contemplation of ever increasing material wealth. Instead of experiencing happiness, one constantly contemplates future happiness. And therein lies the dulling, the numbing effect.
Hey. Maybe there’s hope for me yet.
