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 have a history of ignoring signs that warn me it’s time for change
France’s new Socialist president wants same things Obama does
$22,600 for a library router for four users? No wonder states are broke
Regain your sanity by focusing only on things you can control
Being in love shows us who we can choose to be at our very best
Beauty and love are all around us if our eyes and hearts are open to them
If you need incentive to prepare for the future, look to London today
Social media can be dangerous for those of us raised by narcissists