![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serious time here
A few days ago, I wrote about lost dreams. About watching LOTR, and knowing that my chances for glory are for the most part, past.
On the LOTR DVD appendices, there is some material about a young filmmaker named Cameron, that PJ and Fran admired and supported, and who was dying of cancer. There are two of his short films on there, and they have some very wise things to say.
In his last film, Cameron talks about how he's not afriad of dying, but "I don't want to be forgotten".
I think that's the crux for any artist. We need to make things. Whether it's a painting, a film, a song - we need to make something bigger than ourselves. To touch something beyond what we see. To experience more, and to turn that into something that other people can understand. Because this CAN'T be all there is.
I sit here alone in my apartment, feeling very small and alone. Thinking back to what I wanted to do, to have, to be. There's a fine line between introspection and moping. And it's hard to feel self-pity when you see the horrors that are slowly coming to light in the areas hit by the tsunami. I mean, I am still here. I have food, heat, a roof over my head. That should be enough.
But it isn't.
I can't stand the thought that I will be forgotten. That the world may turn on without even a blip for me. That I didn't matter. I'm a short, fat, middle-aged woman now, and the idea that this is all I am is ashes to me.
On the LOTR DVD appendices, there is some material about a young filmmaker named Cameron, that PJ and Fran admired and supported, and who was dying of cancer. There are two of his short films on there, and they have some very wise things to say.
In his last film, Cameron talks about how he's not afriad of dying, but "I don't want to be forgotten".
I think that's the crux for any artist. We need to make things. Whether it's a painting, a film, a song - we need to make something bigger than ourselves. To touch something beyond what we see. To experience more, and to turn that into something that other people can understand. Because this CAN'T be all there is.
I sit here alone in my apartment, feeling very small and alone. Thinking back to what I wanted to do, to have, to be. There's a fine line between introspection and moping. And it's hard to feel self-pity when you see the horrors that are slowly coming to light in the areas hit by the tsunami. I mean, I am still here. I have food, heat, a roof over my head. That should be enough.
But it isn't.
I can't stand the thought that I will be forgotten. That the world may turn on without even a blip for me. That I didn't matter. I'm a short, fat, middle-aged woman now, and the idea that this is all I am is ashes to me.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
As long as you are happy with the results, and your friends like them, it's all that matters.
no subject
a) i'm FAKING
b) i'm using this fake illness as a pretext to CONTROL my husband and son
c) that there really is no chance of my ever being a proper adult again
Family is.... well, family. YOU know who you are and you DO know your value, even if you forget sometimes. And we *adore* you, just as you are.
((((( more hugs ))))
no subject
Things "sound the same" to people who don't listen with their hearts, dearest. You're most definitely unique, extremely talented, and beautiful.
And, for the record, my opinion counts more than theirs because I wield the Poohstick of Authority. So NYAH on them. ;)
(((hugs and smooches))) You matter very much to me, love.