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.

I don’t like most people in TV ads, but I can’t tell if it’s them or me
Can’t we all get along? Why is the liberty movement so fragmented?
Step in the right direction: U.S. ad group bans cosmetic photoshopping
Cult’s targeting of family funeral points to folly of speaking for God
Kids obeyed me on radio project, only because I knew what to do
Experience with God taught me that my theology was too small
Gay marriage debate turns into fight for validation of private beliefs
Life is too short to hide the love you would regret hiding at death
Pursuing conscious life is harder than sleepwalking through a life