Do you ever get the feeling that in spite of your competence at something, nobody gives a shit?
     The personal way I'm regarded by family members compared to the sometimes more fulfilling way like-minded people look at me, without the close genetic bond that makes our individuality in society seem unimportant to family members, grinds at me sometimes.  I, as a writer, am told occasionally by family members I'm good at writing, although the content, the viewpoints presented in my work, don't necessarily inspire any of my family to go out of their way to say, "Hey Vic, I really liked that post about..."  I get the impression with this blog that no one in my family actually reads it.  That this doesn't surprise me but also makes me feel like a tribe of loved ones are, in essence, saying, "Fuck you and your writing," bothers me.  I figure my writing abilities and strongly presented viewpoints, agree with them or not, merit at least a smidgen of comment from my family.  I've shown my work to family members, but it doesn't seem to inspire them to follow up on it, much less let me know they're reading my blog or even checking out a piece of it on occasion.
     This gripe points to one thing: I don't write this for my family, for their approval or disapproval.  I write it to be read, of course, and it is, in my country and others, but I can't expect people who love and care about me to take the extra step towards bothering to read my shit.
     I've talked with other creative people about this subject.  Often in families, a particularly creative member, an artist of whatever medium or media, may receive encouragement as a child for their artistic works, but later, grown up, the encouragement dries up.  Adults are supposed to be responsible, and an artistic calling, for those looking at it from outside, doesn't seem to be anything more than a hobby, a side project of life's regular paycheck-job-401K-eventual retirement-living will-funeral planning drama.  The idea of art as life's blood to an artist, a realness spreading from the core of a person, so powerful it happens regardless of financial recognition or endless poverty, doesn't register in the minds of non-artists as reality in their own lives.  Try relating to something that doesn't stimulate your gray cells.  You don't give two shits about that which makes no impact on your existence.  Still, if your artistic relative gives a shit about it, does it as a necessity, it would help that creative person to be recognized occasionally as doing something as essential to society as plumbing, lawyering, and accounting.
   
                                                                             Vic Neptune