I’m sure this is not your usual Saturday type of post, and I could easily answer with another question: who isn’t? And then I could go back to writing and stuff.
Instead, I’m going to write an actual post. About crazy writers. And stuff.
Here goes nothing.
One of my favorite definition of insanity goes like this:
“Insanity is doing the same thing, over and over again, but expecting different results.”
What do writers do, over and over again? We procrastinate… uhm… write. Yes, that’s the answer. And painters paint, musicians play their instruments, sculptors sculpt. And we do so over and over again.
It’s called perseverance, and it’s responsible for artists actually getting stuff done. And according to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary (and the movie Hitch), perseverance is:
“continued effort to do or achieve something despite difficulties, failure, or opposition.”
You could rightfully say that you can persevere without doing the same thing over and over again, but trying different methods of achieving your goal.
But the routine is pretty much the same. You sit at a desk and you write.
I think some people think of artists as crazy folks, because most of them are prone to addictions and depression, and they usually lead a pretty eccentric (or ascetic) lifestyle.
But it’s not a rule or a requirement, and I’m sure that most artists live a pretty normal life.
What I’m inclined to believe though is that artists see things differently. The see the world in a way most people are either incapable or unwilling to see it. In a way, they’re observers.
And we feel strongly about things that most people don’t even care about, we take our time admiring the beauty of life. Maybe that’s a nice definition: artists are crazy because they’re passionate about life.
Perhaps it’s difficult to stay sane in a world like this one, especially when you take in so much, when you seem to observe and absorb too much at the same time.
I strenuously believe we’re all a bit mad. We’re neither equals, nor the same. And we want what we want and we do what we have to do, and we all have our regrets. We don’t live in a black and white world, we never did.
So maybe we all have our moments of insanity, when we feel that life’s not fair, when all we want to do is roll over and die. Or set the world on fire.
Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.
All artists want to change the world. Lie to yourself all you want, lie to me or to everyone you know, but deep down you know it’s true. Some of us never have the courage to purposefully try to change the world, but we still hope that we might.
And normal people don’t think like that, don’t wish for that. Normal people tend to be realistic; and realists want a better job, a bigger house, a faster car. They want stability more than anything else.
But what do we want?
We want to become great at what we do, we want to change the world, to fight against an evil we can’t see. We want to leave something behind, we want to build great things that will last forever. We want to live our lives in such a way that our names will endure long after our bones have turned to dust.
All artists are idealists. Maybe that’s crazy, maybe it’s not, but I do know one thing: crazy or not, the world needs us. Like they say, without art Earth would be just “eh.”