I had a conversation last night with a friend and it served as a key for me to climb up the “attic” and take a peek at the things I carried up there. These are the things I loved and I still love that had to take the backseat of my life for a relatively permanent period of time. I’m thinking, maybe if I had not gone to law school I’d be a better artist by now. Maybe I’d even be learning music with different people who share the same taste. Because I love music too. I cannot live without it just the same as arts has this hold in my life. But it was really art I wanted to learn, probably because I can feel I have more aptitude for it. I even had this crazy idea before I went to law school. My father was encouraging (sometimes insisting) me to engage into a path that would be more lucrative in terms of monetary equivalence. He said I needed it for I am most likely the person whom my little sister would depend on when time of maturity comes. I would have to provide of course. But I wasn’t thinking of that. I look at myself as a sensitive soul who deserves to sit comfortably in the mushes of creativity. Floating there and bouncing off into self-made realms is my dream. I am an artist at heart. You just feel it and you don’t need to try. You see art and it captures you. It leaves you staring off into that canvas or paper or whatever, like you’ve been hypnotized or paralyzed. You just stand there motionless, sometimes eyeballs darting from corner to corner or from one spot to another, studying and understanding what the artist wants to convey and how he does it. You’re there but you are some place else. It’s akin to a book. It’s a portal to the artist’s heart and soul. I experience that kind of connection with art and I just don’t want to be a traveler from one world to another. I want to be a messenger of art. Causing that to materialize into my reality meant self-sufficiency on my part because I know my parents would not have approved of it. In fact, they thought the idea was absurd. What was the idea anyway? Oh, I planned of sending myself to an art school, all expenses paid by yours truly. Tada. Voila. Boom. Crash. Game over.
I know my dreams aren’t over yet. I am a dreamer. You can’t just stop a dreamer from dreaming because she can always find a way to sneak her way out of the existing realities of her life. She’ll always try to build her dreams little by little. She’ll always have this attic she will always come back to where all beautiful things for her exists. She’ll climb up during the wee hours when everybody’s tired and asleep and she’ll sit there, speaking reassuring words to her suspended dreams to not lose patience because someday the logs will be crushed and the river will flow just as it was meant to me. She even dreams of maybe giving her future child this dream of hers as an heirloom to be passed to generations to come. The river is meant to flow.
I don’t blame my parents for sending me to law school. I conceded and followed them. I trusted my father when he said I need the peculiar academic training to build my character. He turned out to be right. I do not regret being here. My passion for arts is still here and it will never leave. It’s just that life will inevitably hand us out an application form during early adulthood years which will require us to choose and prioritize things. It does not always mean you have to throw away things you love like arts, music, sports, or anything that you have dreamed of doing for a living. Sometimes it just means these things are suspended; it means someday they will begin in your life even if it’s been a little late. But they will begin and they will fill your life with the life you have always dreamed of.
Oh by the way, happy birthday to the person who helped me sort out my priorities in life–my father. 🙂