Loading

Creative Expression – The Crossroads

(Eh.. I kinda gave up midway on this featured image)

 

Good morning. Technically, I wrote this on the 1st of April.. but, to make sure people wouldn’t mistake this for a April Fools’ joke, I’ve decided to make it public today!

 

 

Creativity. That was something I used to say more proudly that I had within myself. Though I used to draw more often, create characters easily and develop entire worlds and stories out of thin air; refining those along the years.. I can’t say that’s the case currently.

It’s to no surprise for those that follow my content and posts, as little as that number actually is since I do not create content that resonates with a more visible audience. What I’ve always created publicly has been based on things that I enjoy or concern me.. rather than generating content for the sake of pleasing and attracting a larger gathering of followers or subscribers.

There has been no direction to the things I post nowadays. No obvious goal or motive behind my channels, website and social media. What was once an attempt to make my own art, stories and characters public for everyone to enjoy; has dissolved itself to posts about politics, silly things that I find amusing and sharing my own predicaments. There has been no art, no drawings, no stories to tell. Only opinions, from a voice that should probably just stay silent and allow the “grown ups to do the talking” while cheer-leading from behind the voices of reason. With likes, shares, subscriptions, comments and so on.

 

I should know better by now, as someone of my own age, to not behave this carelessly online on my public accounts. I should had kept myself to drawing and sharing stories. Again, that was the original idea when I created the pseudonym “SapphyDe90”. To focus on art, to be genuine yet kind. I guess the “art” and “kindness” got lost somewhere, leaving only the brutal honesty to the public. Unfiltered.. for most part. Lax. Perhaps naive, which is something that goes against what I am in reality.. though it is true that I can act quite childish. Personally, I don’t mind being childish on some aspects, as long I’m mature where it actually matters.

 

More and more I’ve thought to myself what to do with this pseudonym. I’ve been less motivated to draw as time passes by. Yet I’ve been felling the pressure to express my creativity somehow. It pains me that, at the age of 26 (nearly 27), I’m here thinking about what I want to do when “I grow up”. In this case, what type of artist I want to be. Again. I thought I had that set on stone, I was doing well with my art style. My stories and universes were, in my humble biased opinion, well developed and it’s a shame I never shared not even a single one to a wider audience, in a more complete sense! But, alas, people know that I’m changing. It’s a long process, that I’m quite enjoying the results that have been surprising me. But this is not the post to talk about my transition..

 

It irks me that I haven’t found myself time to properly think about what direction I want to take. How to express my creativity. I look at the time, as it flicks by. Appointments, work, resting, feeling like the worst person ever for rarely paying attention to my friends as of late. I come home, hardly feeling like doing anything productive at all. No time to think about the future.. except the treatment or the job that I have. Sometimes thinking that I should probably take time to do that one thing or another that is also important; which I do end up doing, occupying more of my time and continuing to postpone any actual attempt to find a new way to express myself.

But where is the time to think about how to express my creativity? This has been one of the most important aspects of my life, to expose my stories, settings and characters to the world; to make people feel and to make them think. To watch and smile when I see people coming up with their own interpretations. Perhaps even broaden a few minds. To also learn from the criticism, to learn more about myself and others.

 

It’s true, I’m an introvert. I’ve always been more of a listener rather than someone that talks and, while I do enjoy being with my friends, social gatherings drain me rather than invigorating. Since I’m a listener and an observer in nature, environments that produce a lot of stimuli tend to tire me easily.. given that I pay attention to every detail and really think about those details, unlike extroverts. And when there’s too many things going on, it’s no wonder that I get often lost thinking about everything around me. Which is why my definition of resting is.. not engaging with anyone and do my own thing for a while. As such, I spend most of my time soul-searching!

I dwell with emotions rather than facts, though I do appreciate (quite a lot) those that can provide facts. With facts provided by trustworthy sources, I tend to interprete how those facts affect society and the people around me. Psychology and emotions.. the human mind fascinates me and I feel that my role in society is to provide some form of guidance and emotional support. To look at society, or part of it, take note of these patterns and think abstractly about what is the passion and emotions behind the actions and words of groups and individuals. It’s not about what people stand for, say or do. But why are they acting that way? What is really going on, what do they fear, what do they actually believe?

While facts are necessary, and I do hold facts above any type of belief, I feel that the best way to tackle the issues in society is to appeal to the passions and emotions of the individuals interested in listening to the aid that I can provide. Instead of being blunt and talk about the issues and facts, I would rather express my concerns and opinions publicly by the use of symbolism, storytelling and art. What if’s, fiction, abstract. Characters, groups, universes that reflect the emotions and passions that are relatable to our own reality, daily life and current events.

That’s the type of artist I am and has been dormant of late.

 

 

When I was a child, I wanted to be an Obstetrician. Yes, I know. I was a child that, when people used to ask what I wanted to be in adulthood, I would say “I want to be a doctor that delivers babies”. Considering everything, it makes sense why I would say such a specific, yet silly thing.

I don’t think the passion behind it changed at all.. it simply took another path to reach the same goal. To nurture. When I look at everything that I’ve done and continue to passionately talk about, it becomes clearer. Why an Obstetrician? Why storytelling? Why art? Why did I chose to draw cartoons? Because I probably realized, at a really young age, that I couldn’t have children of my own.. at least the way I’ve always desired. Perhaps, before undergoing this treatment I’m currently in; drawing, storytelling and becoming an obstetrician was my way to make manifest my desire to be a mother. To teach, to love, to help someone grow and become a better person.

 

Perhaps the question is not how will I express my creativity.. but how can I nurture others? And it becomes clearer!

I don’t want to make hasty decisions. I really want to continue my treatment and reach a point that I know I’m emotionally and psychologically settled enough to decide how will I do just that. When I asked that question to myself, a few ideas came to mind. But I’m not on estrogen yet.. it’s best to wait and decide once everything becomes even more obvious.

 

 

Thank you for reading this, dear reader and here’s an advise.. analise your desires and passions, your motivations and feelings. If you have never done that honestly and with time, consider doing it.. you’ll be surprised~

Pages:

Short Story: The flaws of the Flawless Twins

short-story-theflaws-01

 

Eh, lazy pictures aside, this is a small story.

 

Inside the cleanest and purest of rooms painted in white, with a floor just as indistinguishable, no door and window can be seen within. Such a mysterious wide, intimidating and spacious cliche on which ears and eyes cannot listen or wonder the uncomfortable truth. The Flawless Twins live within, rarely dwelling with what’s outside of a room that, though specifically white, changes colors, much like a chameleon.

Lilibeth, the girl that kept a mirror close to her heart, wielding a hair brush ever so carefully. Like a doll, pale with a clear determination to cover it with a blush so exaggerated that has made people turn their heads in wonder how detached from reality have fashion magnates gotten. Her choice of garments only underlined such notion; with a white victorian dress, that was embroided with light pink details, and stockings. Her eyeliner was extremely thick, fake long eyelashes, glossy dark red lipstick.

Clarabeth, the sophisticated that held a tablet at all times. Her eyes were those of a judge. It was rare to see a smile on those lips and, if she did, it only meant she was about to join a debate on which she already knew exactly that the outcome was in her favor. A fine adviser and supporter of those who are broken. A nightmare when voicing her actual opinions, which were many and kept within.

 

Lily and Clara were twins, sisters. Flawless with plenty of flaws. Inseparable, yet they often disagreed with one another.

“Lily, hurry up. We have to go. People are waiting for us.”

“Yes, I know! Stop yelling, I’m still brushing my hair..”

“I’m not yelling! Except, you know, now!”

“.. I should wear something different today.”

“You’re hopeless. We both know you’ll regret whatever you wear anyway. Isn’t that why you keep a mirror close?”

“I keep it close to check on my makeup and hair, not because of my dress!”

“People have said plenty of times that you look beautiful anyway. You’re stressing the both of us.”

“I.. I know but..”

“You don’t believe them, I know.”

“You don’t either.”

“I mean, I think a lot of people are misguided but, considering everything, you are beau–“

“Don’t patronize me. I didn’t slept well last night, worried sick about tonight!”

“There’s a difference between getting yourself ready and decent for a social gathering.. then there’s you wasting more time getting ready than the actual event itself.”

“You know what? We’re not going. I’ve changed my mind.”

“Oh. Cmon now, Lily. You’ll be fine, stop being selfish and self-centered for once!”

“People gaze at me oddly anyway, no matter what I do!”

“That’s because you wear those dresses all the time, as if you were going to a cosplay. Of course people will look.”

“I thought people looked at me because, as they say, I’m beautiful. See? This is why I don’t believe when people call me that.”

“Beauty is more than just appearance, darling. If you invest yourself in just your own appearance, you’re nothing more than just a pretty yet disappointing face.”

“I’m not doing this for others, I’m doing this for myself too..”

“How insecure of you.”

Both sisters were perfectionists, to a fault. Incomplete, flawed yet never enjoying such truth and striving to change those same inconveniences. But beyond being harsh on themselves, they were able to be judgmental towards others in silence. Keeping a list of their own mistakes and others, they believed that everyone should always try their best to cover those same flaws and to become better people in the process. Either if those are superficial or deep rooted in one’s core personality and intellect. They could never understand others who didn’t worked as hard in life to make themselves better just the same way as the sisters.

“Clara, you have been quiet this whole day. What’s wrong?”

“.. Weren’t you paying attention? You know, except for your mirror.”

“You make it seem that I’m some sort of narcissist… Either way, what do you mean?”

“The way they talked, the things they have said. They are wrong and.. cruel.”

“Oh. That. Well, if you knew they were being ignorant, why didn’t you said anything?”

“… B-because I know they would be offended.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Are they not our friends? How can you expect people to understand you if you keep quiet about everything?”

“I don’t keep myself quiet about everything! You know me, you know I enjoy a good exchange of ideas in a respectful manner.”

“Yeah, I know. You keep judging me all the time.”

“Because you deserve it.”

“And they don’t? Why?”

“.. I.. Because.. W-well, I care for their feelings.”

“And you don’t care about mine? Thanks a lot, Clara!”

“Of course I do!”

“Then what’s the difference?”

“The difference is that I know you won’t reject and judge me if I talk. You will never leave me, sister. They, however, they don’t really care about me.. about us.”

“They certainly do care. They have expressed their worries and admiration towards you in the past. They think you are kind.”

“I know but..”

“You don’t believe them, I know.”

“How can someone like me if they don’t really get the opportunity to know me?”

“Isn’t that your own fault for not expressing yourself anyway?”

“I guess but..”

“They do care about you. They have putted up with the fact that you keep that tablet close. It just gives the impression that you don’t want to be there, you know?”

“I do want to be there. I just..”

“Just what? We already had this talk before. I know you see yourself has an outcast with ideals that can be seen as controversial at times. With peculiar tastes, alien and bizarre to the mainstream.”

“No one likes to feel rejected. Though I do envy them.”

“Envy..?”

“I mean, their ideals and what they find amusing is, by all means, widely accepted so it’s easy for them to befriend each others.”

“Ugh.. that’s such an awful way to look at things.”

“How so?”

“Because it makes yourself distance from others. It also makes you look uninterested and judgmental.”

“I care for what other people think, that’s why I spare their feelings.”

“There will always be people that won’t like you. Isn’t it better to just express yourself and allow the people that don’t like you to just move on? While keeping those that genuinely like you?”

“If I did that, I would be alone”

“Don’t be dramatic. It’s better to be genuine than living an illusion.”

“Look who’s talking..”

“Quiet!”

“You know what? I don’t think we’re going anywhere next week.”

“Fine, be that way.”

“What way?”

“Insecure.”

In a white room, days passed without seeing a familiar and friendly face except their own. Once in a while, having the opportunity to walk out of those four walls to bright up their own souls and skin. The difference between a girl and a woman, they were obviously still too young and incomplete to be considered mature. Lacking confidence, like a toddler who needs the company of her own parents to comfort her and build the confidence she needs to become independent. Insecure. Flawed.

 

Flaws make perfectionists uncomfortable. Who wants to be judged for their own flaws that they simply cannot help themselves? A double edged sword, certainly! Wouldn’t life be easier if those flaws weren’t there to begin with? Certainly. But is there anyone that is perfect in every way?

Nobody is perfect, everything is flawed. Those that strive for perfection are like a pet on a treadmill aiming to get the carrot that they will never achieve. The treadmill always spinning around, much like the excuses, arguments and vicious cycle of aiming for a new appearance or change in one’s personality to better achieve the image one has built upon themselves to reach that high pedestal of what is the new and improved “me”. And once achieved, again you notice the flaws that you have gained with this change. And you try to change again, and you find new flaws. And you try again.. and again.. and again. Running on the treadmill, make those paws work. And you look around, see others move on with their lives, without using a treadmill or caring to better themselves that much.. and all you’re left is with envy of those who have embraced their flaws and have, ironically, became better than you. Became mature.

You know you can walk away from the treadmill. It’s not that hard to walk away from that treadmill. But that carrot, it’s there. You were lead to believe one way or another that the carrot was able to be reached and that you could only find true happiness if you nibble it. And you look at those that you envy, telling yourself that life isn’t fair.

Congratulations, you have become neurotic. Flawed by pretending that you can achieve a state on which you will become mostly flawless or contempt with one self, while wishing for no one to find out how flawed you really are.

Pages: