I don’t think I’m alone, as an artist, in feeling that my creative activities are what make life worth living.* The problem is, there’s all this other stuff you have to do in order to live. Do the laundry, shop for groceries, go to the gym, earn money to pay for it all, whatever.

None of those dull, trivial activities can be omitted. So if I draw up a list of my priorities, the thing that should be the highest priority (writing or music) becomes, in practice, the lowest priority. It’s the thing I’m allowed to do only when all of the other irritating, pointless stuff is taken care of.

This struggle is unending, and it’s soul-deadening. I have no answers, either. There’s no snappy one-liner at the end of this.

* Footnote: Social activities I find, for the most part, fairly dull. I’ve never understood the line, “People who need people are the luckiest people in the world.” Seems to me people who need people are in serious trouble. They’re setting themselves up to be bored, annoyed, or disappointed, if not worse. But that’s a different subject.

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