The first symptom of the process of our killing our dreams is the lack of time. The busiest people I have known in my life always have time enough to do everything. Those who do nothing are always tired and pay no attention to the little amount of work they are required to do. They complain constantly that the day is too short. The truth is, they are afraid to fight the Good Fight.

The second symptom of the death of our dreams lies in our certainties. Because we don’t want to see life as a grand adventure, we begin to think of ourselves as wise and fair and correct in asking so little of life. We look beyond the walls of our day-to-day existence, and we hear the sound of lances breaking, we smell the dust and the sweat, and we see the great defeats and the fire in the eyes of the warriors. But we never see the delight, the immense delight in the hearts of those who are engaged in the battle. For them, neither victory nor defeat is important; what’s important is only that they are fighting the Good Fight.

And, finally, the third symptom of the passing of our dreams is peace. Life becomes a Sunday afternoon; we ask for nothing grand, and we cease to demand anything more than we are willing to give. In that state, we think of ourselves as being mature; we put aside the fantasies of our youth, and we seek personal and professional achievement. We are surprised when people our age say that they still want this or that out of life. But really, deep in our hearts, we know that what has happened is that we have renounced the battle for our dreams – we have refused to fight the Good Fight.

When we renounce our dreams and find peace, we go through a short period of tranquility. But the dead dreams begin to rot within us and to infect our entire being.

We become cruel to those around us, and then we begin to direct this cruelty against ourselves. That’s when illnesses and psychoses arise. What we sought to avoid in combat – disappointment and defeat – come upon us because of our cowardice.

And one day, the dead, spoiled dreams make it difficult to breathe, and we actually seek death. It’s death that frees us from our certainties, from our work, and from that terrible peace of our Sunday afternoons.

And oh I am not Depressed.

Melancholy perhaps but than again I have always been like that.

It’s so awesome to be alive and to know that on one on this planet has a clue…

You know it ain’t easy
For these thoughts here to leave me
There’s no words to describe it
In French or in English
Well, diamonds they fade
And flowers they bloom
And I’m telling you
These feelings won’t go away
They’ve been knockin’ me sideways
They’ve been knockin’ me out lately
Whenever you come around me
These feelings won’t go away
They’ve been knockin’ me sideways
I keep thinking in a moment that
Time will take them away
But these feelings won’t go away.

If you’re waiting for a boss or an editor or a college to tell you that you do good work, you’re handing over too much power to someone who doesn’t care nearly as much as you do.

We spend a lot of time organizing and then waiting for the system to pick us, approve of us and give us permission to do our work.

Feedback is important, selling is important, getting the market to recognize your offering and make a sale–all important. But there’s a difference between achieving your goals and realizing your work matters.

If you have a book to write, write it. If you want to record an album, record it. No need to wait for someone in a cubicle halfway across the country to decide if you’re worthy.

Last June Blogdeganz become six years old.

No one noticed… no one cared… no one has the time any more…

There is a fine line between inspiration and insanity. It can be a tightrope, stretched thin across a wide chasm full of what scares us.

On Sunday I mostly slept. It’s been a long time since I spent a day mostly sleeping. A brain marathon eats energy too. For some things you pay as you go.

I finally managed to shoot my ghost project here at lost boys. Hoorah!

I am grateful for you, fellow stumblers for visiting my blog despite the lack of content. It seems I am struggling to keep a personal journal as well as a blog. I have so much that I want to write about but alas there are Wolves in the Walls. It’s better to keep thoughts private as words have a nasty way of changing people’s behaviors.

Hopefully my new iPad will allow me to blog more often and yes the iPad is really awesome when it’s jailbroken.
More sleep. Then, work. And lots of it.

I’m Human too! Will try sleeping again.

It can be very difficult for me to focus on one thing. Most of the times it’s not easy for me to sit still and concentrate on one project. Frustrating, yes. I’ve learned not to fight against it. It rarely helps. Even with a deadline, I won’t get good results by forcing that sort of creativity. It doesn’t mean I can’t be productive.

Then reality and functionality step up. Have you looked at your work space recently? If you’re working in it, eventually it will most likely evolve to fit you. If you’re working, but not in the space you want to be, it might be time to rethink some things.

Anyway, last week I did a lot of work in school, and a little work on several projects. I told myself that any work I do is useful, and contributes to the whole. True enough, what I’d wanted was to be ‘in the zone.’ Here I was, with time on my hands, an empty, quiet space to work in. A few years ago I would’ve forced myself to work on whatever ‘the thing’ was. And work on ‘the thing’ would have been accomplished. But, at what cost? It takes a lot of energy to get from ‘here’ to ‘there.’ Sometimes it’s necessary—-as for a performer when the curtain opens. But if it’s not, I can be flexible. Like spaces, it’s better for me to let my work rearrange itself to fit the energy that’s there to put into it. To focus on projects that fit the moment, or the state of mind. It’s taken quite a number of crappy choices–including stressing and freaking out, to convince me that this looser approach works better.

Now for food and rest.

Artists tend to be their own worst enemies at times.

I like to think that I’m an artist, and I feel I’m no exception.

Sometimes I must work against an immobilizing force. It will take a powerful ritual to overcome it.

First to create the space.

Then to gather elements; tools, water, coffee, gummy worms and food for energy.

Then to gather the will to create when I feel I cannot.

I have only the most vague and fleeting notion of what I’ll make.

Only the emotion. Fear.

I’m feeling it too. So I’ll start there.

Fear is personal. Don’t underestimate your courage when visiting difficult inner places.

It’s not the same as jumping from a plane, but it’s quite frightening.

I vow to to laud myself for the effort, regardless of what is produced.

I draw on memories of past works, completed successfully and those abandoned with neglect.

I trust the process, which is proven, and living and present and more than just me.

The ritual. Signal to begin. Painting o the digital canvas.

Just a line to show that I am alive and kicking and growing old. What a treat!