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Humble Beginnings

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Humble Beginnings

Every Artist needs a good origin story. Your tale is what makes you, you. Your life from beginning to end, influences your art. As it should. Because if we are good at our craft, we tap into those emotions and incorporate them into our work in ways that make our viewers feel what we have felt. This involves the dreaded skill of “introspection”, the ability to perform an honest self examination of one’s own feelings, thoughts, and motives. It’s difficult, human’s aren’t pretty, and feelings are gross and messy. Life experiences always involve emotion. Where we come from and how we grew up, shape the core of who we are, how we see the world. How we imagine others see us. We carry within us all of the joys, successes, heartaches, trials and tribulations of our formative years.
It used to be that the world was a smaller place, people were prone to staying in the towns where they grew up, as their parents did, and their parents before them. From the moment you were born, you were judged, labeled and categorized, not on your own deeds, but those of your forefathers. Your life was limited by your family name and history, financial and social status and all of those other random factors, binding us at birth. This is still true today of course, but now the judgments of others are quieter, much more politically correct. And if that doesn’t work, you could always move away and reinvent yourself?

So what were my “Humble Beginnings?” I was born to a couple of kids who got married right out of high school. My mother was 20, and my father 21 when I was born. We lived in a small trailer, parked on the edge of my grandfather’s sheep pasture, in Norwich, Vermont. I do not remember much about my early years, but I did grow up understanding that even though my homes changed and financial standing increased over the years, many people of our small town would always view me as a poor kid, stereotypically low class, branded as “trailer trash”. I believe that while I didn’t understand class and social structures then, that I did form an understanding of my place within society and knew I was considered less than. And yes, this does in fact form a chip on one’s shoulder, if you let it. There is more to the origin story, obviously, but I’ll save all of that juicy dark drama for the Biography.

In summation dear reader, the point I was attempting to make is that I believe we should celebrate our origins, no matter how humble our beginnings. We should not deny our experiences, because they made us who we are today. You don’t have to put up a plaque next to your elite college degrees that states you were once considered Trailer Trash, but you could. Who doesn’t love a good Underdog Story? You are not what other people label you. You decide the course your life takes. You are responsible for your future and how you shape yourself, not your friends, parents, or grandparents. You get to decide who you are. Be proud to be you! All of those people who would judge you are self loathing losers, don’t let them rain on your parade. Just be true to yourself and let the haters hate. You will be the one winning it in the end!

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