I was walking toward the train station at Fairbanks St. yesterday when I looked up to the sky to reflect on an idea coming to mind: I think I need to “come out” to myself about my creative life.
The thought was in reference to Jerry Before Seinfeld, when Jerry jokes about his experience of “coming out” to his parents about wanting to become a comedian.
On the night his parents first see him perform, Jerry reflects:
I was so nervous that night, because I was showing them this whole side of myself, it was like my little gay-closet moment, you know, where I had to say, “Mom, Dad, I’m…I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m a funny person.”
Jerry jokes about now wanting to have a “funny lifestyle” and having “funny friends.”
Although I have creative projects here and there (most of which I don’t finish) and post elements of them on Instagram, I still lack the internal “oomph” to own that creativity is a (big) part of my life.
I surround myself with colors and things that inspire me, yet I feel like I haven’t fully embraced this part of myself. I feel like I haven’t really let myself go.
And that’s what I’m missing.
Admitting, accepting, and acting on the fact that I’m a “creative person” (as Jerry might put it) would only bring more beauty to this world.