Done with Indignant

I've lived my life teetering on the edge of two extremes.

The Intellectual vs. The Creative


It's only here recently I've realized that my creative side does not come at the cost of my intellect. In fact, my creative side benefits a lot from the ideas my intellectual side has to offer.

But that's not true vice versa.

I spent years in a magnet high school, advanced classes, honors programs. YEARS. I've seen the intellect and I've seen there are some things it does not understand and never will.

And I'm getting rather tired of the indignant response I get when I tell someone, "You won't get it. It's a theatre thing." They act so aghast that there could be something in this world that they do not understand. Like the world would cease to spin before it would create a situation outside of the bounds of reason. It just isn't possible.

I don't want to come off sounding like the stereotypical "artist", but I'll stick to my gun that artists get things in a way that the rational world doesn't. Not that the rational world can't SEE it that way, but they can't be IMPACTED the same way.

It's the reason artists buy paint before food, theatre people skip work to go to rehearsal, musicians play their guitar on the street instead of getting a job that sells out.

The same reason non artist significant others of artists (sorry for weird grammar) sit scratching their head saying, "But you HATE the theatre. You're always complaining about it. You come home near in tears because nothing's going right. Why TONIGHT do you want to go back?"

and the artist keeps saying. "I don't HATE it. It's my sustenence."

And those of the rational mind set just don't get it. I don't get it. I just do it.

I don't know what draws me back to theatre even after it knocks me out, takes my money, and leaves me in a tub of ice missing a kidney. I don't know what keeps me sitting outside watching a rehearsal even though it's raining. I don't know what makes me cry when I hear the first note of a musical. I don't know why I smile when something beautifully tragic happens in a play. I don't know why I sacrafice personal treasures as props knowing the probablility they won't return.

But I know I have to do it.

I'm not discrediting the rational mind. It keeps the world spinning. It makes marvelous stides in math and science. It keeps the post service running, papers organized, files in place, and my tv spitting images at me. The ratioal mind does a lot of good.

But I'm tired of those rational minds pretending they can understand it. I'm done with the indignant response that assumes they get it at some meaningful level.

Because if they got it, they'd be doing the same thing.