Goals

I live in a constant state of self-doubt. I put so much value into social media affirmations (likes, comments, reactions, etc.) and when I see my wife and my mother are only liking something I poured myself into I get discouraged to the point I don’t try anymore. I have decided this pursuit of affirmation through social media is a waste of time, a waste of energy and it will keep me stagnate.

My wife has asked me from time to time what I want to accomplish. It is easy to get into the mindset of creating something that will go viral and then riding off on that success for the rest of my life. However, I have noticed more and more that those who go viral fade out of the public consciousness even faster.  Their audience came for one thing and once that one thing has ended, you either need to up the stakes or just accept you were only one thing. I have decided that is too small for me. I don’t want to be a temporary thrill via a viral sensation. I want to be a lasting success. I want to be able to do what I love for as long as I live.  To do that, I need to work hard and set goals.

I don’t need affirmation from social media. That doesn’t pay the bills. I need clients. I need to become a resource for people to provide services that they value; that they are willing to pay to get. My goal is that by the end of the year, I will be in a place that I can devote myself full time to multimedia production (video, graphic design, photography) and be in an even better financial situation as a result. I am writing this blog post as a contract with myself; that this goal is not only obtainable but also a must. There is no other option.

I answered my wife’s question by saying this: I only want to be able to do what I love.

Cannibals Eventually Eat Themselves

A pungent stench lifts from your shirt. It’s all you have left – or so to speak.

As a child, you had dreams and they consumed your flesh and bones. Nights filled with thoughts, ideas and the light beamed from the moon brighter than any other time.  You drew, you wrote, you played and you loved. Then the world catapulted itself into you with a force to be reckoned.

Cartoons became dull; songs became unimportant; movies you loved as a child became full of holes. You complained about what did not work, about what could have worked, about what should have worked – all the while, the dreams dwindled and became passing memories.

In the wake of your reality waking up, a part of you went to sleep permanently. A hunger awoke in its place.  You became a cannibal. Devour those around you to build yourself up. Only thing you never considered:

Cannibals eventually eat themselves.

 

If Not Now, When?

There are two types of people in this world. Those that are confident in their assertions and – well, there could be more than two types, right? I mean, how could I even say there are only just two types? 7.5 billion people and only two types?

When talking about types, what does that even mean pertaining to people? As if a person can be summed up, calculated like division and multiplication and then understood completely. There are days – perhaps weeks, or months – where I feel like a type of person or rather robot. Work, eat, eat, eat, work, eat, sleep, repeat (I am working on cutting back on the eating part).

Wall-E, the classic and perfect (THAT’S RIGHT, PERFECT) movie, has a lot to say on this. Wall-E, a robot, teaches humans from his pure love of E.V.E. how to be human. The human captain yells at the real robot captain thing-a-ma-jig that he doesn’t want to survive anymore, that he wants to live! In that moment, my fist always involuntarily raises in triumph – as I lay on the couch, eating buttery popcorn and my fourth (really, sixth) piece of pizza.

Where is the disconnect? I am inspired, moved by stories of great achievement to try to achieve my own. Yet even as I write this, I am stifled by fear. I want to write a short film but I want it to be good. Not just good, I want it to be seen by all and loved by all – by first draft. I have these immense expectations for myself that everything I write has the Midas touch. By paragraph three, my mind wanders and the wrath of the Writing Demagogue manifests. His malevolent whispers slip in through my ears.

“HOW CLICHÉ!?”
“Your characters are flat and one dimensional.”
“No one would really do that.”
“How would they get away with that? You need at least three more chapters explaining how that works.”
“That sounds so pretentious.”
“You should stop writing and draw what a Writing Demagogue looks like.”

Demagogue
He wins again. Dammit.

The Writing Demagogue is ruthless and poignant with his critiques. His buddies often show up when I try other tasks. Want to work out? Netflix-ogogue shows up. Want to eat better? Donut-ogogue makes an appearance.  How can one combat such tact creatures? Their ultimate purpose is to keep us from our dreams, to limit us to a type of person rather than an individual with dreams and ambitions.  To keep us just surviving.

The musical Hamilton, written by the wonderful Lin-Manuel Miranda, has been my most recent source of inspiration. There is a line sung by George Washington that reads,

It’s alright, you want to fight, you’ve got a hunger
I was just like you when I was younger
Head full of fantasies of dyin’ like a martyr?
Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder.

Are we going to live or just survive? Are we just going to throw away our lives? There’s a Hebrew saying that has stuck with me as of late: If not now, when?

If we are not going to live now, when are we?