So I blog, I draw,
I podcast, I’ve written articles, short stories, plays and songs, I cook, I’ve dabbled in graphic design, I’ve “acted”, I’ve owned a web store, I’ve owned an actual art gallery, I’ve built shit from Ikea, I’ve built shit from scratch, I can’t sing or dance because God had to keep me humble. So all that to say I’m dope a creative person. I have a busy mind. The drive to turn some of these talents into business… Well… That’s another story. I’m more of a hobbyist, as well as my harshest critic, I don’t want #meatyocrity out there with my name on it. No shade by any means, but I kinda admire people who are able to put themselves out there no matter what….we all have that friend who raps, or the cousin with an Instagram boutique, and personally I can’t not seem to meet a woman who doesn’t write or do hair and makeup (is that just the female equivalent of the aspiring rapper these days?)
I do admire other creatives; as peculiar as they may be. For instance Dessi is an amazing artist and Special was a singer, (there was a dancer in there as well I don’t remember if she got a nickname) . Creation is an easy icebreaker; I like creatives for their passion, their quirkiness, their drive. I don’t know if I have the same connection with my own work. I’m nonchalant; modest. If a woman didn’t see it for my blog (most don’t) or my art I don’t think I’d get in my feelings about it. Maybe a little, but we’ll get to that later. Anyway, for others creatives their craft is an extension of them you can’t love one without the other. And with that we begin our tale of deceit and struggle…
I met a girl yada yada yada, she tells me she writes poetry. She’s fine so I cast aside my abhorrence for spoken word and go to see her perform at an open mic. It was dreadful. Like, it was something about being locked up and licking the steel bars and tasting tears. Then I had to stay for a couple more of her fake deep friends to perform. Not the way I envision a perfect evening. So, of course she asks how was she… She was nervous, but she felt really good and who am I to strike this dream down. So of course, I lie and she lights up. I won’t tell you how many more open mics I ended up going to, she would read poems over the phone, wrote a few about me…I was stuck. I tried to ride it out maybe as I liked her more, I would love her struggle stanzas but can you really build a foundation on a lie? No.
Aint say I didn’t try tho. We were a few months in, she would send me stuff to read I would pretend to like it. What’s a little white lie if they take it as support; why you think Jhene Aiko out here thinking she the next Sade, some dude couldn’t tell her the truth…. I feel you bruh, I feel you. So, remember how I said I wouldn’t get in my feelings if someone didn’t like something EYE did. Well that was a lie. So one day I send Sigh,Ugh Angelou a drawing I was working on and she… wasn’t a fan. She gave a critique and so since we were letting each other in on our true feelings, I may or may not have implied that more work was spent on my drawing than her fake deep poems thay sound like every other chick with Microsoft Word that thinks they’re deep. It escalated quickly and we stopped speaking. Who knows what Phyllis Weakley is up to these days. Maybe she got her bars up. Shrug life.
Creatives are an odd bunch. The passion that makes them great can make them just as insufferable. (West, Kanye). Creatives crave support, especially from the ones they care about. When their rap video only had 17 views it mattered that you was probably 11 of them, perhaps they aren’t ready to share their gifts with the world but they share with you and that’s good enough for them. When a creative has someone who truly appreciates and values them as well as their art, it’s a beautiful thing. When that support is really just superficial gassing…. Well, just ask Toni Snoreisson over there.