Are you there, blog? It's me, Andrea.
Winter has definitely set into my bones. All of my writings these days stay hidden in journals and randomly numbered text files on my hard drive, and the days are slipping by so fast I have trouble keeping up. Yay, seasonal affection!
I have recently become obsessed with an online drama called Quarterlife. It's perfect for someone like me; the characters are all 25 years old and have overlapping love interests that result in myriad dramatic misunderstandings, and the main character is an introspective videoblogger aspiring to be a professional writer. Think My So Called Life with blogs and twentysomethings instead of flannel and dreamy, dreamy Jordan Catalano. Anyway, the main character, Dylan, poses all of these great twentysomething dilemma-like questions to the camera, and one that really got me was:
"What is the life of a writer, and am I living it?"
It's a great question, and a simple question on the surface. But I think so many people my age who strive to be creative feel the need to craft these intricate, artistic lives. Like, if we end up working at an office for a summer (or a year, or two or three) it means that we have lost our souls and have failed in our attempt to be truly creative people. It probably seems silly to anyone outside this specific demographic, but it is something that haunts me constantly. If I stay at home to watch Degrassi on DVD instead of going to a coffeeshop to write and pine poetically out the window, am I straying from my artistic purpose?
I am going to go ponder this some more, perhaps at a bistro somewhere while etching abstract drawings in a Moleskine. Or maybe I will take a pensive walk around the lake in a peacoat whilst eating granola from the co-op out of my pocket. Or maybe I will continue living my real life, in its strange artistic grandeur, sitting on my unmade bed in a sweatshirt watching the special features on my new Once DVD and playing spider solitaire. C'est la vie!
I have recently become obsessed with an online drama called Quarterlife. It's perfect for someone like me; the characters are all 25 years old and have overlapping love interests that result in myriad dramatic misunderstandings, and the main character is an introspective videoblogger aspiring to be a professional writer. Think My So Called Life with blogs and twentysomethings instead of flannel and dreamy, dreamy Jordan Catalano. Anyway, the main character, Dylan, poses all of these great twentysomething dilemma-like questions to the camera, and one that really got me was:
"What is the life of a writer, and am I living it?"
It's a great question, and a simple question on the surface. But I think so many people my age who strive to be creative feel the need to craft these intricate, artistic lives. Like, if we end up working at an office for a summer (or a year, or two or three) it means that we have lost our souls and have failed in our attempt to be truly creative people. It probably seems silly to anyone outside this specific demographic, but it is something that haunts me constantly. If I stay at home to watch Degrassi on DVD instead of going to a coffeeshop to write and pine poetically out the window, am I straying from my artistic purpose?
I am going to go ponder this some more, perhaps at a bistro somewhere while etching abstract drawings in a Moleskine. Or maybe I will take a pensive walk around the lake in a peacoat whilst eating granola from the co-op out of my pocket. Or maybe I will continue living my real life, in its strange artistic grandeur, sitting on my unmade bed in a sweatshirt watching the special features on my new Once DVD and playing spider solitaire. C'est la vie!
| Permalink | 
