Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Funny that in March I thought I might be depressed. At this point there's no "might" about it. Functioning is hard. That anyone would ever romanticize this condition is ridiculous to me. It's so unbelievably debilitating. The notion that creative personalities are prone to depression - that it somehow makes them what they are is such BULLSHIT!!! It keeps me from my creative outlets. I can barely shower let alone be creative. To find oneself at step one again after years of study, practice and experience is - well - I have no words to describe it but it gets harder each time. How many times can one start over again - it's exhausting and in itself depressing. In my last entry I cavalierly wrote that I'd received a good review once when I was severely depressed. Well, I was a helluva lot younger then and what I gloss over is how it practically ruined my creditability in the opera world. I was so unpredictable and unable to concentrate. Years of work trashed by one ill-timed episode. Here we go again. It seems to demand a level of courage I lack. I think I have perhaps answered a question I've asked myself many times. Is performing my art or my job. Answer: My job. I'm going on not out of love but out of responsibility. Sad, hmm? How does a passionate creative outlet wind up being a job?
My own little place to explore my creativity and imagination