Delayed Budding

I'm sitting at the Chicago O'Hare airport trying to write this quickly before my complimentary 30 minutes of wifi run out (I think I have 20 left). If I finish quickly enough this post may even include an image!

Lately I've been working on a new multidisciplinary project where I'm writing the music, scoring movement, and examining my identity in a more intense way than I ever have. I've said it enough and I think this will be the last time I say it because I have already acknowledged it enough and it will not help: this is all a bit scary. New territory. And not while I'm fresh out of school; I'm a full-fledged adult! A youthful, fun adult, nonetheless, but a real adult that does not feel like time is on their side.

As a late bloomer (or a fashionably late flower?), I either feel like I don't give a fuck hell yeah life is too short to care I'm doing this! or a bit on edge about getting a late start and begin the what-iffing: What if I had become a generative artist at a younger age and how different (better???) would my work be? What if my brain is done shaping itself and I'm not developing anymore OMG. I think I'm inherently an optimist even though I'm also a cynic and I'm continually balancing the tension of those two things. The cynic in me says, "I'm just keeping it real," while the (somewhat bitchy?) optimist in me says, "Got it. Now shut the fuck up and let's move on."