Being An Artist
Being an artist stimulates the brain in a magical way, ways that cannot be explained. I cannot imagine being good at math or administration working a desk job; I’m afraid I’d commit suicide if art, creation or music didn’t exist. I could imagine aside from suicide I might cease to exist or self-combust. The way it works is, artist like painters or musicians use a completely different part of their brain than mathematicians. Some who may seem to be gifted with math and also a bit creative artistically can be more well-rounded intellectually or straight up genius. Chances are if you’re a genius you most likely excel in one or two particular things that are somewhat related.
Artists have a special gift
Artists have a special gift or ability I don’t believe anyone else has, some people may want to be an artist but you can write or sing until you’re blue in the face, all day long and be the only one that thinks you’re good. I mean, true artists tend to be a little weird or nonconformists. Some may not blend well with most people stuck in their own little world or stand out socially. I know a musician who see’s things that aren’t there while he plays music, and I too have had this gift since I was 13 years old when music found me after a certain trauma.
Having a magical moment
I see shapes, colors and movement when I listen to things that move me. It’s not all the time, just sometimes when I’m having a “Magical Moment,” and those moments are incredible, addicting, gives me goosebumps and sometimes it can even make me choked up or cry like a baby. When that ever happened to me around people they have looked at me as if I had lost my mind and recently became fit for a straight jacket. Even still, anytime I’m creating something be it an edit, film, music, writing or photography I get sucked into this creative tunnel that feels like a drug high without the drugs. I swear my brain releases things like serotonin when I’m creating and I’m completely absorbed inside this world inside my own head.
If your an artist like me
Like me, if you’re an artist like this and have a marital or life partner who’s not like that, they can innocently come walking into the room and start talking and it’s like someone just took all your work you wrote down on paper and throws it in the fireplace. That’s because my notes can be stored for hours or days in my own head, as I organize my thoughts and lay them out on paper or whatever creative outlet I’m using. It kind of zaps your mind like a stun gun, and shakes you out of this beautiful moment and all that shit stored up in your own head gets forgotten.
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