What drives you? What essence pulls you through the days that always appear the darkest? What is your motivation?
As a writer, it should be assumed that I would know the answer to my own questions. As a writer, I should have some muse or outlet of inspiration. The only problem—I haven’t the foggiest idea what that is.
Perhaps, without a muse, I am simply a girl with access to a keyboard.
There are people out there all the time who think they are something simply because they possess or have access to a tool that provides the essence of that something they think they are.
For instance, a man could own a camera and take a few family photographs and truly believe himself to be a photographer. And at the end of the day, the only question remains, what differentiates him from any other photographer?
That same adage could be applied to athletics. A man could own a basketball, install a net and then proclaim himself to be a basketball player. He could be 5’2” and never be able to touch the rim and miss 98 percent of every shot he throws, but he is out there. He is attempting to dribble the ball and make a basket. Who is to tell that man he is not a basketball player? You don’t always have to be Shack or Michael, do you?
But in today’s world, to be anything you must be the best. You cannot add the “ist” or “er” or “ian” to an activity if you simply attempt.
Just because I can play the bassoon, doesn’t make me a bassoonist. I lack the theory behind the music to be a musician.
I can shoot a basket better than the man described above, but no one is asking me to sign up for the WNBA or inviting me to join their school’s team. No one is calling me a basketball player. I am simply a girl who can dribble a ball and sometimes make a basket.
The thing that differentiates that man who owns a camera and the society proclaimed photographer is not a college education. It is a passion. An element of art that transcends through his photography that only he can capture.
Michael is basketball player not because he stands a few feet taller than the average Joe, but because he has a drive and a passion.
No one can touch the magic Mozart created, but often people try. People want to be something great. To feel that passion in their own hearts and minds and souls.
So they think because they possess a tool, it defines who they are. Passion has become confused and entangled with the simplicity of possession.
Perhaps the constant misuse of vocabulary is the reason behind the lack of Picasso’s and Mozart’s and Michael’s in the world.
Perhaps I have truly become a member of society and have confused possession and passion. Perhaps I am no more a writer than I am a basketball player.
Maybe at the end of the day, I am just like that man who owns a camera or that man who owns a ball. I am simply a girl who owns a tool hoping that someday it could define who I am.