I have been readin a lot of comics and graphic Novels recently. Uncanny XMen, WOlverine and the XMen. Captain America. SAGA. Y: The Last Man.
I've been devowering them like theres not tomorrow. This is what I've been doing. I go to work, I hate my time there, I leave, and I read these books. Their vignettes traversing through my eyes and my mind. Small little stories that trace your world and shift its geography. Happy, sad, stressful tales that splatter your conciousness with color and characters while shifting your subconcious towards something more whole. Its a wonderful feeling finishing these stories. Its so bittersweet when they run their course that you can't help but be happy someone allowed you along with them for it.
This is art. Its life, its love, its wonderful. Its what anyone should hope to achieve. To view their human experience and propel their own thoughts about it towards something others can enjoy. Its art in motion, from something as seemingly straightforward and XMen to Blankets by Craig Thompson. This is something i translate into my own experiences and own vocabulary. I get brought along for the story and in doing so share this experience with not only the artist but all the readers of the work. Its a wonderful feeling. A feeling I want to share in my way through the work I've deemed my particular medium of choice, live action acting.
Of course, I draw... sometimes. I miss drawing but my muse hits me when it hits me. I write, draw, walk around... I do stuff, but I get attached to things and they move me towards my next attachment. I am working on figuring out how I can guide these attachments. I want to learn to control the things that grab my undivided, obsessive lust for more of it, be it Magic the Gathering, or drawing, or acting, or running and working out, or videogames.
It doesn't stick though. It fluctuates and passes and rekindles as it sees fit. But I haven't got time for it to do what it wants. This id of mine, this conciousness that rules my conciousness needs the freedom to do what it wants while also maintaining some parallel thought process with my own. I know I like the things I like, and I know I love the things I love, but what I don't know is why there should ever be doubt.
And it all boils down to this.
Sleep is my enemy.