It’s been almost 30 years since I figured out — much to my surprise — that what I really wanted more than anything else vocationally was to be an artist. And I’ve spent most of the years since then explaining to myself over and over why this isn’t possible.
After enough reasonable explanation, I start getting numb to what I want. I forget what it feels like. I turn my attention elsewhere and tell myself that realistic people do other things. Maybe I can make filmmaking a hobby if I do really well for awhile at something I hate.
Doesn’t that make sense? I can make a few hundred thousand dollars a year as a real estate broker. How about that? Isn’t that more realistic? Sure. Why not. I’ll do that. It all makes so much sense. And it sounds so responsible.
And so I start burying what I know — every now and then, at least — that I want. Until somebody comes along and pokes a stick at something I try hard not to look at.
That’s what happened today.

Your narratives shape your politics, religion, friendships, relationships
Knowing right choice years later is useless without time machine
Shouldn’t you believe everything you see posted on social media?
Lucy’s fun afternoon at my office reminds me that work needs play
What’s the point of a secret crush if heart isn’t ready to accept love?
It’s when we create art — and create a better world — that we’re most like our Creator
Can you spot the change in this video? Most can’t — and most don’t notice the world changing, either
We all love stories, but principles should trump anecdotes in debate
Dad who made space for daughter reminds me little moments matter