grow

Been typing my best friend E's art history texts into MS Word, and learned that Gauguin (French post-Impressionist) became an artist in his thirties, being only a hobby painter before that.

While I do not aspire to become an artist, art still feels a defining part of me. I get cravings to paint, only stopping myself sometimes because the light in my house is not suitable for night-time painting. Also, I am lazy to; art is too logistical and can be taxing. The joints in my hand hurt after a while, and cleaning up is troublesome.

I still don't understand why I have this interest and a decent measure of artistic intelligence. I am not crazy enough to live only for art, neither do I feel destined to teach it to kids, though art education has been a part of my life for much of this past decade, even now. Furthermore I am not technically qualified and have no huge desire to attain formal artistic training.

I am still floundering around, being able to do many things yet nothing all at the same time.

If I could sum up what I would like to do, it still comes to wanting to manage resources for worthy humanitarian objectives. I desire to paint, I desire to write, but I desire even more to be involved in serving communities in dire need. I desire to be busy, planning from a desk, as well as inspiring and enabling others to serve. All in all, my passion for art and writing also fits into the picture, giving me a chance to flair in directing visuals and communication. But just the thought of it all tires me out as well.

I want to start small, as I am now, and remain small, taking it slow. Which is why I am not advertising to do anything, nor am I committing to anything more at the moment. I am still at the stage where if I teach for half a day I need to rest for two days. I can barely take care of myself, let alone a man and two cats as well.

So, what I subsist now on are my interests and a hope. Necessity does not drive me, recovery does. Even if I am poor, I still need to recover. I will find out what to do along the way. It is frustrating, somewhat like watching a plant grow.