Why I'm sending senti notes to my friends.

(Oh my gosh this is actually happening).

A few days ago I was a part of a book club that read Create Dangerously, by Albert Camus. He wrote about the artist as a voice of resistance.

I decided to join in just to hear what these artists had to say: these friends of mine who made music, wrote articles, created fancy 3D shit, illustrated, painted, these friends who actually made art. I was just gonna lurk: say some shit about art as resistance, or art as a luxury, whatever seemed important then. Bring in a cognitive spin, an intellectual perspective if I may. Some practical nuances - which are usually all I can really offer. I don't mean this in a negative sense, instead, I see that offering largely as a strength. At least most of the time.  I've never considered myself a creative person. I've always seen Akshay as a creative genius and myself as an academic nerd; the both of us in a fixed dichotomy. I've noticed that I absolve myself from conversations regarding feedback on design, the colours we should use, the copy we should write, or the sets we should design. "Leave that to the creatives", I usually think.

These friends of mine who make art.

As the book club went on, I snuck in a quick few questions to the artists: I asked them about why they made art. I wanted to know what drove them to give themselves to the world out there? What made them crazy enough to let people inside their minds, to be so vulnerable so as to expose their deepest thoughts? What is it that they have in them that gives them the confidence to believe in themselves? But most importantly, I asked them this question because I wanted to know why I write. What are we if not selfish? 

These were the answers that stuck with me:

Micah said he made art because it was a truly cathartic expression for him. A release.

Rayna said she made art to become a good artist. (!!!!!!)

Sohan gave a very complicated answer about why he's not ready to put out his art yet, not realising he already has and it's mindblowing 🙂

I've been writing for years, sharing almost none of it, holding it behind tightly tied diaries and password locked Notes. It seemed almost impossible to let other eyes glance upon it, but at the same time, I craved recognition. It stung me, deeply, when I realised my reason to share what I wrote was mostly to gain validation. I questioned myself. I questioned whether my art was of value. If I was merely writing for a reaction, for acknowledgement, for a "hey, that's well written". But I guess I've made my peace with it. I. Perhaps I'm looking for something to keep me going. Perhaps I'd like others to feel what I feel after I read a great piece of writing. As Rayna said, she makes art to be a good artist. But how do you know if you're good? Isn't it through how others perceive your art?

Maybe, art, like everything else, is inherently social. It is valuable, even if its raison d'etre is to be shared with others. In fact, I think, that's what makes it valuable.

So well, that's why you're getting this note from me. I want to - just a little - move away from the academic nerd title. See what it feels like to quit my job, pursue a career in writing, and move to a small hilly town.  Just kidding.

A heads up: my writing is crazily personal. It has only made sense to me to write about my own life and my own thoughts and my own feelings... I have a shit ton of them. If you're up for reading severely personal things about me, you can stay subscribed. If not, I think I'd understand why you'd want to unsubscribe, though it might hurt me a little. 

My little writing nook thanks to the breakfast table gifted by my parents. How do mothers always know what you need?

There's no frequency to this, you'll find a note in your inbox whenever I have the courage to write something down. Please, and I really mean this, respond to these with any thoughts or feelings you have. I would love to read the things you have to say, the feelings you felt, and whether or not you've ever felt similarly before, etc etc.

Criticism is welcome. As you know, I want to be a good artist.

Also, happy birthday to me. This is my gift to myself. Thanks for being a part of it 🌻

Mom sent me this today morning. Me at 3 and 23. Seems fitting for this note. Is it wonderful or worrisome that I may be the same person still?