Day 72: Video Shoot

Had a small shoot today involves me carrying a camera
around and interviewing people.

Good fast project.

These are the times you'll need projects like this
to keep the artist dream alive.

What artist, heck, haven't lay a stroke at my book
for weeks now.

I'm lazy. Emo. Rather work on dateline projects.
That pays. Need the money. Planning to move out
of the country end of the year.

All about money. I need the money. I need to move
up the ladder. Sick and tired been the 'poor' artist.
Sick and tired of been looked as a loafer.
Sick and tired not able to provide.

I feel ashamed of my car these days.
My dying car.

I'm tired of looking at my bank account all the time.

I'm hitting 30.

I'm tired of not caring what other people think.

Deep down I care.

I used to don't care.

Now I do.

I miss my old self sometimes.

Not caring. It feels much easier.

But everyone else cares.

And I can't ignore them.

I used to do a pretty darn good job
ignoring what other people think.

I guess when yr age hits you,
your shield tends to weaken.

FYI, I'm ready to be sell out now.

(I guess..)

Sigh.

Yep, I've got no art to show you today.
Cause I haven't done any.

I love holding my Windsor Newton brush.
I love how it brings me away on the drawing
board. I love it. Yet I hate it. It depresses
me knowing every stroke I make pays back so
little.

Did I mentioned I dropped high paying production
job just to do art?
Yeah-I did. I fuckin did.
Regrets? Yeah, a little.
But if given a second chance, I'll still make
the same decision.

Why? Cause I'm a stupid. And a masochist.
I love art, yet I'm not doin it.

A kid came to the bookstore today, bought my book,
and asked them whether I was available to sign it.
I was there. I signed it. It was flattering.
I could swear I saw his face glow. Like how
I would glow if I met my idol. But I hate to
throw the truth to him. I'm not doing so well.
Maybe I am, in terms of recognition. That also barely.
But I'm broke. I love being broke. It helps me
to strive. But-God how many times I can say it?
How many times?

Sigh.

Last thing I told him, who he told me he enjoyed
writing, is to just write. That's what I would
tell myself when i was his age, just do it.

I did it. And now I'm here.

Now what?

-chinyew