no other choice

  After a performance I am often alone. After being given appreciative compliments, hand shakes and hugs, I am alone. After I exposed my heart, a gift, an offering to the universe and those who'll receive, I am alone. Not empty but alone, wondering what I do this for.

This whole creative process, artist, musician thing can be hard. It's easier to procrastinate sometimes because creating means getting to the heart of my shit. Unearthing something real, something raw about myself. It's often easier to get caught up in home projects, laundry, social activities. Anything to put off confronting whatever it is inside of me that I can't explain, that is trying to force it's way out of me.

 I simplified my life so that I wouldn't be burdened with so many other, non-creative obligations.  But I sometimes find myself wishing I had something else to do, looking for busy work and excuses, people.

When alone with myself, I am left to confront that which burns inside of me. It burns and scorches at my flesh and at my soul, until I stare it down, own it, then give it a name.

 I do this because I don't have a choice.