Y’ever have one of those nights? You know, one of those nights when you’re traipsing down the horrible hallway of your own rubbled thoughts, and then, you stumble into a clearing? And there, in the center of that clearing, is a warm, familiar presence? That heavenly spark, that shining will o’ the wisp, that lilting, lovely spirit you can only define as your Muse? And you walk up to her, as you would greet a long lost friend, but she flies off? And you don’t want to lose her again, so you follow, but she only flies faster? And so you lope, and then you jog, and before you know it, she’s flying so fast from you that you’re running to get to her? And you barely have time to realize that that awful ruin of your mind has somehow leveled out, and you’re galloping like a stallion across a flat and open plain? And the muse stays just out of reach, but you don’t care, because the running feels so good? And then you finally get tired, and you just can’t run anymore, and you didn’t catch that sweet, gentle light, but you don’t care, because you know that she can never be caught in the first place? And you feel so damn fulfilled and energized, like a hunter in command of his territory, that you feel like nothing in the world can touch you?
Y’ever have one of those nights?
Ahem. Well, I did. Last night. I don’t know what happened, or what brought it on. I sat down to work on a DeviantArt commission yesterday evening, probably around 6:00 p.m. or so, and I found that I couldn’t stop. I felt something. I felt like I was good at what I was doing, and I wanted to keep going. I didn’t care about anything else. I didn’t lose hope, close Flash, and start playing Diablo. I didn’t get distracted by stupid YouTube videos. I just kept on drawing. I just kept on animating. My inner voice needed some background music, but my earphones were broken, so I took a quick break to head to Wal-Mart. I grabbed some EarPods and a 2-liter bottle of Mountain Dew, and then tore back to my computer.
Properly caffeinated and rocking out to electronica, I got back to work. The process wasn’t always silky. I made a lot of mistakes, and I had a few setbacks, but I never got discouraged. I just kept going.
I kept going until 5:30 a.m. The morning pale was seeping through the blinds. I had reached a point in my project where I was feeling a little frustrated, so I decided to call it a night. Or a morning. Whatever.
I woke up only about five hours later. I was still full of energy. I felt…alive. Ready to do things. My thoughts were as clear as the summer sky above me. For someone as anxious and depressed as I am, that’s a pretty fuckin’ big deal!
The question is, what do I do now? What does this mean? I’ve had marathons like this before, but they don’t come around very often. Is it…could it maybe…do you think it’s possible that I might be able to feel like this all the time? Fulfilled, energized, ready for action? Is this a feeling I need to chase? Or should I keep my hands to myself, forget about trying to hold on to it, and just let the emotions fall where they may?
I don’t want to flood the engine, but God, it hums so good when it’s running right.