Who to Be

Unfortunately, this Coronavirus does not seem to be going away anytime soon, and with quarantines in full effect, it leaves the idle mind with a lot to chew on.

Two days ago, the kid I'm currently living with asked me a very simple question: "If you're a philosophy major, what are you going to do when you grow up?"

It's not a new question, but that doesn't make it less scary.

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Being cooped up inside for the past eight days, I've had to make a lot of choices about what to do with my time. Minerva cancelled classes for this week and India officially announced a 21 day full blown lockdown. I usually start my day around noon-ish when I wake up, grab a bite to eat, brush my teeth, the usual. Then I spend the rest of the day watching youtube videos, playing the piano, trying to learn how to read sheet music, or generally moping around my square, prison-shaped room.

After the first couple of days of being angsty and angry with the world, I finally pulled my motivation up to at least do something, which surprisingly enough, turned out to be difficult given the nihilism that these apocalyptic times constantly inspire.

The point is: my brain has too much time to think, which is bad, because that's generally how I start freaking myself out and having existential crises on a timer.

Ok so I got out of bed. Showered. Ate. Stared at my wall. Listened to some music. Went down the youtube rabbit hole again. But at the end of the day what am I doing? What have I spent my time on? Who am I growing up to be?

And it always comes back to art, doesn't it.

The youtube videos I watch are about singing. Sometimes I watch BTS songs and bounce in my bed to the rhythms. I play a game on my phone that forces me to read sheet music. I quietly strum my uke and write down cliche words in my spiral notebook, trying to explain what I feel. Trying to prove to the world that my feelings are worth sharing by making art out of them.

But the thing is, if I want to be an artist when I grow up, it's not just gunna happen. I can't just watch people do it, think "oh my gosh I wanna do that", and just expect it to happen. I have to work on my craft. I have to do art and practice and work on it. But it gnaws at my stomach to just have to sit here and do it alone.

I'm starting to learn more and more about myself, and as I look back, the times I have enjoyed myself most are when I worked with other people on some something bigger than the both of us. Domus was something I worked with Vick on. Dance was a group that I belonged to. These projects and the motivation that I have to work on them come with the people that I work on them with, and without that, I feel like whatever I create doesn't help anyone or make any difference so what's the point?

I've been watching a lot of unintentionally inspiring videos lately: Jon Bellion, Roomie, BTS. People who really just do what they love and are what they do. I wanna be like them. I wanna spend hours and hours on a verse just to perfect it and jam with other amazing artists and create and just breathe life into this existence. He reminds me a lot of my friend who also makes music and inspires me to make things without the expectation that they have to be perfect. You can just make. And that's enough. Roomie reminds me a lot of my Fuze crew and how we would spend so much time writing and shooting and editing together. It was just stupid banter and there were definitely times when we were at each others throats, but we still all created something bigger than us. We committed time and energy to something that we believed in (to whatever degree) and then dealt with the outcome. And that's how you make progress, right? That's how you really learn how to be who you want to be. BTS reminds me a lot of my dance gang back in Texas and honestly the group of dancers I joined in Hyderabad too. Often we'd just be goofin' around and cracking jokes at each other, but we always showed up. We were that one group that for whatever magical miracle of a reason, stuck. Especially the group in Hyderabad, the level of genuine respect and care for the art form constantly inspired me every week. By Friday I would be so demotivated to do anything, I'd hop on the metro and run to dance class, and by the end, the teacher's passion would literally bring tears to my eyes. And the spark would light once again.

That's the kind of life I want to live. Something full of passion and collaboration and just childish fun. Because that's the kind of life you can look back and it'll tug at the corner of your mouth. It's the kind of people that make you marvel at the beauty and complexity and magic that exists in the universe, and without those people, I feel like I just... stagnate.

I just wait and wait for something to show that needs me there, and if it doesn't come, then I don't do anything, because nothing is really needed.

When I grow up, I want to make art and help people. That's all. I don't care what kind of art and I don't care what kind of people. I just want to do something that is needed in the world, and I can't bare the thought of being a waste of space in this black endless void of existence.

And I know there is a premium on my time now. Because I'm young. And young doesn't come cheap. I envy the people who just know what they want to do and who they want to be, because they are the ones who end up finding depth and uniqueness in their craft. And I guess ultimately, that's what I'm afraid of.

I'm afraid of believing that I am capable of that beauty, if I'm not.

It feels almost like an inadvertent lie, if I do. That I've wasted not only my time, but all the time and energy of the people who chose to believe in something that just wasn't meant to be. And that, folks, is truly terrifying.

Welp, nothing like a global pandemic to inspire daily existential crises, am I right?

Ok, team. Back to youtube.