So I have this friend who works in publishing. He's a great guy and super professional, one of those heavy hitters that has seen and worked in a ton of different industries, all creative. Lately things have been hard for him. He's lost a parent, a "favorite son," and a few large contracts, and yet he persists. He gets paid to do what he loves the most, and I consider him a mentor.
I've been under his tutelage for some time now, and from what I can tell, in order to do what you love it takes time. Blood, sweat, and other bodily secretions included I must engorge myself on bouts of masochism. If I have learned a lesson on my own, it's realizing that working those 80 hour work weeks come naturally if one just succumb to the reality of one's position in life. What if Sisyphus stopped pushing the rock one day and said, "Woah! Really? What have I been doing all my after-life?" That uphill battle is a mindset, and you will feel the burn and weariness of life if you start thinking that your passion is just a means to an end. I can relate to this on a personal level this year. Steam Games occasionally does their Winter and Summer Sales, which this year I mobbed big time. I picked up all these games and realized that I just don't have the time to play them. I couldn't stop laughing and thinking about how ten years ago I could tear through these things like wrapping paper. Now, if I want to partake, I have to schedule it in like going to a soccer practice.
So that gets me where I am now. I had to opportunity to meet my boss from Sequart at San Diego Comic Con. He's a stand up guy. The encounter generated all the stereotypical reactions to meeting an internet associate, which I find absolutely fascinating. The mood of these situations invoke an uncanny awareness of mind-body dualism, that puts the subject into a scenario of bizarre familiarity. Expectations are enforced and thwarted simultaneously. What this all has to do with my being overwhelmed is simply that I've discovered the mortality of my cause and it makes me question the manner of my support. Consequently, I have a book, now fully detailed in a rough outline, with diminishing motivation in undertaking it.
Work on the graphic novel has just begun with scripts, posting routines, and basic concept, all getting off the ground. I happened to meet an artist at Comic Con by happenstance while recharging my phone. Hindsight is always 20/20 as the saying goes. I believe God is leading me into this industry, but in what manner and capacity? Does my origin story begin in college with my roommate, or at the opposite end of Con recharging a phone? Give me an answer!
All this to say, I am feeling the weight of my life. In horror I watch the invisible, future fat cover my bones, transforming me into a middle-aged, no longer youthful, organism with Irritable Bowel Syndrome. You begin to wonder if someone will ever pay you for your work, and question the very meaning of your existence. I am convicted in my mind that God is leading me to live out a theology that is big enough to have him working in my life, in the industry that I love. Moving that head knowledge to your heart is another thing all together. That is where it all begins.
Struck down but not defeated.