Comfort is the root of all evil….

(Apologies for stealing your picture Lorna.)

As I was driving into work today I was in a good mood. I’d had a blood test, and for once the nurse had gone straight in and had no issues.

Then I had a combination of things – a low email from a friend; a meeting with HR; and thoughts about art and life – and here I am feeling that I’m wasting my life.

So what do I want to do? Experience that high that lifts you from the mundane – I find it in art, in music and sometimes in people. I’d also like to be able to capture it in some way and pass it to other people – but I haven’t found a way yet. Words turn to dust in my mouth and my hands aren’t skilled at shaping. I have my camera, but I don’t yet understand how I can raise my photos into something ‘real’. At the risk of sounding precious I don’t yet have a ‘voice’.

Nor do I have the kind of drive or vision that moves people to live in rat invested garrets or live on a South Sea Island. I like my comfort too much – I like my home and my bourgoise life (that said a bourgoise life didn’t do Magritte any harm). So am I a coward? Or sensible? If I had ‘talent’ would I already have kicked off the traces and be ‘out there doing it’?

I guess we all want to be ‘other than we are’.