Usually if someone were to ask me how I see the world and how I see myself I'd often give a reply that was polite and very general. But the world isn't polite and isn't general. The world and I are both very precise and very horrible, in two completely opposite ways.
I live in New York City and nothing is better than New York City, apparently. But even though today is a wonderful sunny day with a nice breeze it still smoggy. And the smog steams up my rose tinted glass view of the world. The smog isn't literal though living in the big smoke there obviously is smog. But the clouds I'm talking about are the horrors of the environment I live in. In the city you can be whoever it is that you want to be. You can walk down the street and look as if you've just purchased property in the upper east side or browse through Barney's and pretend that you're a multi-millionaire.
However even that description of my world is general and still quite polite. To make it in New York, you have to have an extremely hard outer shell, great connections and worst of all money. Now I'm not trying to convey that I hate New York and what it stands for because I don't hate it. Inf act, if anything, I love it. I've even created a new feeling just from absorbing my surroundings it's self-loathing love, hating something so much it's love and you live and breathe it everyday and the lies you tell yourself the next day is an adventure to make it true.
I don't view myself as you'd think. I'm not pretentious and I don't try to be, though in the last three paragraphs you may get the sense that I am. One truly can never know another and nor can we judge because everyones brain is different. I bearing the height of one five feet and one inch have no care for money, nor do I prance into Barney's trying to show that I do. I have no feeling for wealth, no feeling for materialism, I have only feeling for art. I'd bleed for the art I create.
And just because I love art doesn't mean I waltz into the Met and stare at paintings gazing at what they might mean, no. I'm different. I like to rip the imagination apart. I like to see beautiful artworks in a horrible fashion. You may say it's crazy, maybe I'm insane. I like ugly. It shows real emotion.
Take a horse, a beautiful majestic galloping horse. It's mane flowing it's tail swishing but you fall off that thing and you can end up with 3 broken ribs and cracked collar bone. And then it's not so majestic then. But thats just an example.
Society tells how to dress, how to act and what is cool. But what is cool? What is anything really? I follow one rule- Be yourself. Which is probably the most over rated statement people say. Everyone has said it few abide by it. and a lot lie that they do it. Maybe I'm the last one maybe I lie. But no, though I'm heavily influenced by media and pop culture I'm different so is everyone. I'm unique just like everyone else. Though me, I create my own fame. I don't want to sing infront of live audiences I don't want art galleries. I don't global acknowledgement.
I'm that person that before going to sleep at night I invent in my head scenarios and the next day I kill to make it happen. I walk down the streets of New York wearing fishnet tights, high heeled boots and a leather jacket. The stares I get are nothing from the comments I know they're mentally thinking.
I don't try and comprehend the world. I don't want, I like it a mystery. But acting polite and giving varied statements make me sick, because nothing is more enjoyable then finding something awful within something perfect.
You're wondering what you've just read and thinking what did I just read. But deep you know, no one sees the world the way it's shown to be everyone see's through its fake façade and so to sum up my tale I lie in the deep end of the dream pool where I get a grand few of those drowning in the shallow side.
Quite frankly I've babbled the whole way through this story but you see I see myself as the the perfect imperfectionist with the most outrageously true view. And the world I see is far more complex then what it shows. You see the world is fake it's smoggy and dirty and full of muck. But we love it. Scientifically because we have to but also because humanity enjoys fake-ness. Just like watching television we enjoy seeing actors portray someone they're not. And it's fascinating. We enjoy reading books of a events that couldn't/ wouldn't occur.
No one really understands anyone. And no one really wants to be understood. Although pubescent teenagers scream that all the want is to be understood for who they are, they don't even know who they are. I don't think anyone ever does. Until finally you're at the end of the road. And all you have left is the glory you've bore.
What I like about art is that it's open for interpretation, it is what you want to be. Quite like the painting Starry Nights by Vincent Van Gough looking at it it's really just a swirled painting of the night time. But you could write countless tales of what could happen within that night. With Monet it was a landscape it was nearly always dark colored and usually held sadness but even that was up for being tore apart.
Beautiful things are more personal when you've chewed them up and then projectile vomited the results onto a canvas or a page. Though it may be ugly and disfigured and no one may understand it there is always the chance that maybe what you've created will touch someone. And when what you've created means so much to you, you only want it to touch those who do truly understand it. Having something gazed at or read by millions of people is nothing anyone can do it but when something you've created begins to inspire you know it's something worth treasuring