I've always been facinated by the lives of writers. Sometimes I've enjoyed a writer's biography far more than the writer's work. There are two authors in particular where I've found this to be true, Henry Miller and F. Scott Fitzgerald. One of Miller's love interests was romanticized in the movie Henry and June. The movie portrays a sensual time of art and obscenity in France in the 1930's. Around this same time in America, F. Scott Fitzerald described a similar lifestyle. One author lived wealthy. One as a pauper. Both wrote from the eyes of a romanticized ideal of themselves about experiences surrounding them. Both led lives of art and leisure.
I went to college to write. I knew I had to make a living, so I decided the closest logical thing was to be a journalist. I became a staff writer at the college newspaper. I did this for two years until the Editor stole a story of mine and turned it into his own. Realizing this cutthroat business was not for me, I switched to photography. I enjoyed doing lay-outs and decided to change my major from journalism to graphic communications, which was in the Technology department. I learned photoshop, illustrator, took drafting and speach. I minored in business and bluffed my way through Marketing and Accounting. Even through all of that, my favorite classes were centered around discussions of society and relationships, and the sharing of ideas. I wrote very little while finishing my major.
During my senior year, I took an Art History class. I learned far more in that class about Christian history than about the history of art. Especially for that, I loved the class and stayed in it even when I realized it didn't count toward my general requirements. A paper was due at the end of the quarter to describe a piece of artwork that one would create in order to define how increasing dependance on Technology is affecting art. I forgot about the assignment until 1am the night before. I remember pulling up my laptop on my bed and blurting out two pages of fluff. A week later, my teacher handed them back. "There is one paper that I was so touched by," my instructer said, "that I want to read to the class." Realizing I was the only one without a paper returned, my cheeks turned bright pink and I sunk tried to dissapear into my chair. Not until she read it out loud did I realize how good the paper really was. It described the image of a man, the left half in paint and the right half printed out from a digital image. In one hand he holds a paint brush and in another, DaVinci's 'Mona Lisa'. His attention is focused in the upper right-hand corner. He is mezmerized by an flashing screen. So mezmerized, in fact, that he drops both the paintbrush and the priceless work of art in the mud.
I was supposed to graduate in 1998, but I didn't 'technically' earn my degree until 2003. I had to make up 7 credits, because during my last quarter, I dropped out of an Art of Computer Graphics class to work during the same hours at a small Print Shop in Spokane as a graphic designer. I left Spokane in July and moved back to Tacoma. A friend of mine from high school was quitting her job and said I should apply. I'd have to learn a new skill, Unix, an operating system, comparable to Windows, that runs computer software. I was facinated by this new skillset. I studied during work hours and often took classes at night. It took me a year to understand how to interpret the software and another year to understand the field itself. By 2000, I was in charge of the technical end of the small department in which I had started. By 2001 I had moved to Seattle to accept another opportunity within the Tech field to join a team and manage a half dozen systems of variying functionalities. I continued to take classes and learned different facets of computer technology, a field of endless learning and opportunity for growth and change. Each time I felt the need to move forward, I was presented with a new job that fit my needs and continued to expand my knowledge in the field. I never wrote, except a few entries in my journal. I never read except for technology books and a few historical fiction novels that I squeezed in while riding the bus.
A year after I moved to Seattle, I developed a passion for House music and started DJ'ing. Here was yet another new skillset to discover, completely different from what I did 8-10 hours a day. A skillset of feeling instead of intellect. An outlet from the confinds of my continuoulsy exertive mind. I could even listen to House music while I was working. I found the vocal-less beats helped my concentration not drift from the project at hand. My two passions lived harmoniously for a few years, until the demands of my DJ life began to conflict with the demands of my Tech life and a finally, a few weeks ago, I had to choose.
In the past 6 months, I've been very emotional and confused. I've sought help so I can figure out what's ailing me in the best way possible. I've been speaking most about my inability to be there for people that I most care about. Between my demanding work and DJ schedule, I haven't been the friend that I want to be. I started this blog because I needed to put a website up quick and I wanted a way to let all my friends know what I was up to and why I haven't been there. I don't know if it's actually filled that desire, but once I started it, I've realized a passion that I've long since drained from my psyche. A passion of feeling AND intellect. A passion that I once left my childhood to persue. I had nothing to write about when I was 18. Now, at 30, I have lifetimes.
I quit Tech. I feel like I've just stopped a speeding train. I can't say I won't return to it, but if I do so, it will be in a far more creative way. I'm scared to say that I quit Tech to be a DJ. I'd like to say I quit to be a writer, but that also may not pay. I suppose I quit to be an artist, to persue my passion, to lead a life I myself most loved to read about. Whatever lies ahead, be it wealthy or pauperized, I will always know that I took a chance to follow the road less travelled. And as I've been told by artists far more successful than me, that has made all the difference.
