I never liked taking sides. So when it came to choosing which side of the road I would be on, I decided that it would be most appropriate if I became a moving contradiction. The Rational Artist. The rebel who likes law and order in certain contexts.
A mad, independent, messy, civilised, loud, shy, daring, happy woman.
So I decided that I only cared to make sense to myself. That I would do whatever makes me “happy”. Whatever that word may mean, it doesn’t make much sense to try to define it. To be honest, I don’t think definitions and categories are always necessary either. I know now that “happiness” is just a complex function incorporating multiple variables. You can experiment with inputting different levels of different variables and you can gauge the level of happiness as an output, but you can never be 100% sure. Plus, “happiness” is an ever-changing function, so if you try to track how it changes with time, you will probably miss your bus, your appointment with your dentist and your chance to kiss that girl you liked.
All I ever wanted was to be a mad, independent, messy, civilised, loud, shy, daring, happy woman.
And I never really understood why people can’t just see us in our entirety with all our thousands of faces, changing phases and mood swings. With all our thousands of wonderfully crafted flaws, our soft sides, our bruises, our darkest corners, all our pointlessly extraordinary talents.
You could say that just like all amateur and masochistic philosophers – or should I say grumpy teenagers – I had to find something to fight for. Some sort of tiresomely repetitive battle. That I just had to create an artificial pool of drama and then just jump in salty water with my lifejacket. That I just wanted to wiggle my little feet around so that others would notice and come to my rescue. You could say that it was all an attention-grabbing exercise. That I chose to struggle with finding an “identity”, just because I knew that it wouldn’t be a particularly taxing “struggle”. I could agree with you to an extent, and we could have a good laugh in recognition of our human need to have others combing our hair and gently touching our cheeks, telling us that we are everyday heroes. Even if we are just grumpy teenagers who refuse to grow up. Even if all we deserve – and, frankly, all we need- is a slap.
To an extent, you’d be right in saying that I live to exaggerate, that I have always been a caricature of a hero. After all, I have always loved stories of extreme passion, distorted human psyche and, really, anything with a life-or-death dimension to it. And if I were a colour, I guess that most of the time I’d be a deep, painful-to-stare-at red.
I say “most of the time”. Because as time drags me along its unpredictable ride, I am learning to appreciate a bit of that serene blue that colours anything where comfortable silence rules. I am learning to appreciate the colour of the earth as well. I know that most of the steps we take have already been taken by our ancestors. That our parents have already paved the way for us, that in all our unique attributes we still resemble each other. That we must all drink clean water and eat warm food to survive. That girls are in pain once a month and that all boys secretly wonder what these feminine –and slightly alien- bodily functions are all about. So we are all connected to each other. Despite the different life paths that we may take and the way the goddess of luck may treat us, we all feel hurt and we all know how to smile.
I am a passionate pragmatist. I know the rules of the game and I (sometimes) abide by those rules as well. I like winning, I am prepared to lose, though. I am prepared to lose if I believe I can meaningfully break the norms. As I grow older, as I break away from my “grumpy teenager” self, as life’s difficulties grind me and mould me into some sort of an adult, I realise more and more that at some point most of us are obliged to take sides. And that’s not just a political phenomenon. It’s a societal phenomenon with an increasingly personal dimension.
As I entered my twenties, I struggled more and more with the idea of “identity”. I spent three years at university attempting to define myself. I panicked, switched from self to self, rushed to change clothes, tried on all types of masks, added makeup, removed all makeup and stood naked in front of the mirror.
I still had no answers. I had questions though. I became more curious. I wanted to explore voices, faces, places, words, numbers, patterns, you name it.
For the last three years, I spent my time thinking rather than writing. So as 2013 comes to an end, I have decided that I am now ready to let you into my world. Into the world of this Rational Artist. This blog is my humble attempt to share my thoughts with you.
Welcome to my world, Everyone. If you ever feel that you are not on my side, feel free to jump on the other side. All (constructive) criticism is always welcome.
PS: To avoid discomfort, please be aware that I do enjoy regularly switching sides.
A beautiful portrait of Joni Mitchell. Her song, “Both Sides”, is even more beautiful so feel free to carefully (re)listen to the lyrics if you want.
Rational Artist 