Last night I went to a Sundance party. I met a man with a mustache like the one featured on Daniel Day Lewis in Gangs of New York. Not kidding. He was nice, but after five minutes, I was bored.
Is it because I'm not good at conversation?
Is it because he was boring...even though his facial hair was exciting?
Is it because my heart just doesn't care about trying to connect and flirt with men anymore?
Is it because, while the party was amazing, and people were fashionable, and rumors of James Franco being there (because his directorial debut film was showing) circulated through the dark, saturated walls--that despite all that, I didn't really connect to anyone?
Is it because I've lost my ability to connect with anyone at all unless I'm behind the camera?
That's a real fear. And it's growing.
Here's another. I like to photograph people, but so do a lot of people. What will make mine special? What will make me satisfied? What is it all about? I guess if everyone stopped creating because the person before them created something similar, then American Literature would have stopped with The Scarlet Letter and we'd have no Huck Finn, no Poisonwood Bible, no House on Mango Street? But at the same time, shouldn't some people just stop the dream and do something else? I'm surrounded by talent on a daily basis with people I know, speak to, facebook, blog, and even the local cafes. I go to galleries and look at other people's creations. I like them, I always have. I used to enjoy them more. Somewhere, deep inside I have this drive that has exploded over the last three months and is telling me that this next year is my make it or break it time. This next year will determine if I have any talent at what I'm doing. This next year I'm giving my all to do something that many, many, many other people have already done before me.
So, my question is, will I be better off if I just sit at home and read a book?