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.

Choose the person you don’t want to spend your life without
I still feel shame for wanting to pursue the desires of my heart
Is Herman Cain guilty of sexual misconduct? I wouldn’t be surprised
Love is best thing to happen to us
Why did we slowly let them strip our neighborhoods of most trees?
The moon represents what I seek, but words are all I can offer now
In ’98, Ron Paul warned U.S. policy was leading to terrorist attacks
Is anyone surprised at gridlock of congressional ‘super committee’?