i can’t help ask myself when i am going to start doing some ‘real’ photography. real as in something more meaninful than for myself and the person that’s paying me. seems like a pretty simple definition but i know there’s quite a bit more to that but i have to start somewhere. given all the relative success of an econ major pseudo engineer turned photographer, i still felt with that gnawing feeling that no matter how success the business entity or how ‘great’ my work may seem, the yardstick of my own endeavor lies in neither of those spheres. to put it in kung fu hustle perspective, no matter how bad i want to be bad, i will probably be just frustrated turing to strive towards that ‘it’ that i rarely question. i tell myself that ‘it’ can become a vehicle of positive change but what if i die tomorrow? apparently still only living in ‘real’ life when the future makes it past my way again. the distrations are not so oblique these days but their subtley simply makes the illusion deeper and richer than better. what vivid lofty aspirations i have about how great tomorrow will be when the business entity reaches that stage of endless prosperity. movies will do that to me. like the one tonight called ‘born into brothels’, a fine documentary by a woman of noble heart and mind. she enrolled and reminded me of the why and how. i only cried enough to not what to say anything but deep inside i am panicking about when i am going to start some of my own super projects. days and weeks fly now without even the slightest twitch of my heart. it all an automation of a determination to make it to some arbitary point of supposed fruition of today’s effort. it’s a huge huge risk from the opportunity cost for me more than anything. for me and the business to make it financially would be insufficient for the opportunity cost of what i ‘should’ be doing.
it’s how funny how all these seemingly disparate events have led me up to this point of frustrated inspiration. just tonight, i am attending a photography auction and i can’t help but laugh about how shallow these images are. i can’t say much for my own work either and i should leave it for what it is but it’s all really good for me because i wouldn’t be frustrated as much if i hadn’t seen it. so here i am whining about this and take and it’s approaching the magic hour again when i simply crash so hard that i have bad dreams within the last 10 mins of my sleep. and one more thing, i ran into my beloved distance lady friend tonight and we chatted for all 5 mins before we’re both being engrossed in other people’s conversation. although i got a ‘wonderful’ voicemail from her last week, i can’t help but really begin be turn off by the nature of our relationship. maybe i am expecting too much or not acting enough to show my intention but it’s becoming too apparent for me to even care anymore. anyway, the hunting ground was filled with the usual array of wounded stock and disgruntled preadators. but i digress but i am suppose to be inpired right now but all i feel like i haven’t done yoga in a year and my breathe smells like the carass of my unwholesome meal. i’ve been pretty disgusted with my meat addiction of late and i keep telling myself that i need to fast and that’s the start of the new and hairless monkey. maybe the trick is to NOT make any outward changes and play that game where i keep myself guessing about if i am lying to the ego or super ego. or that maybe the ego is not actually as smart as the super ego that makes up these constructs of the ideal egoless self. and this is precisely why i don’t get any shit done. endless intellectual exercises on what story sounds better to the super ego.