The first time you watch a sunset, and I mean really watch, when nothing is around to distract you. When you can close your eyes and feel the intense orange flowing through you, pumping through your veins as if it is your own blood. During that first time, you get an amazing sense of your true being. Or at least I did. I instantly knew where I stand. Humans are amazing creatures, but that's just it. We are creatures. We hold more power, of course, than an earthworm or a mosquito but what we do with that power is what defines us.

As an artist, I feel that we have an amazing amount of power. If the world needs something known, the use of photography and videography storms the media. There is simply no escaping it. If an artist has something to tell, ideas storm their heads. There is no escaping this as well. From a blank canvas, to blank paper, to an empty picture frame, to strumming the same chord over and over because nothing is sounding right. An artist's need to say what's on their mind is so overwhelming that all of the ideas turn into one single thought playing again and again: "I don't know what to do."

This is one of the most frustrating things in an artist's life. You can literally feel your creation at a boil in your mouth. Ready to slide off of your fingertips as if your hands are that water ride at a park that you are so eager to go down but once you get to the top, you are more afraid than ever so you wait right there, not ready to dive in, but there is no turning back. It taunts you, one stroke, one pluck, one click at a time. You say over and over, "I don't know what to do," until you are absolutely positive that you are not worthy enough to be an artist. Until you forget your sense of being, and the kind of creature you turn into now is nothing like you've ever seen before.

Broken canvases, ripped paper, snapped strings, and smashed picture frames. Banging fists, tears rolling, nervous laughter, nothing helps. Nothing. Then all you feel is nothing. Your entire self is drained. You are no longer thinking of a stupid creation. You are thinking of how stupid you are for thinking you could make a creation. And that is when it finally happens. Like the snap of the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle, like you just opened your eyes on top of that hill to watch the sunset. You finally dive in.

Rolled up sleeves, crinkled brows, biting down on your lip, all feels right. You are a live-wire, a spark ignited to light the fire in the belly of your creation. Holding on to that feeling in desperation because you definitely do not want to see that creature from earlier come back, you create yet another amazing piece. You love it, wrap yourself in it, play it over and over, close your eyes while you are in front of it and turn upside down, then open your eyes again to love it from a totally different angle, because that is how everything should be loved, from all angles. You stop and look at yourself, thank yourself for not completely giving up. Finally, you sigh and wonder why the hell artist's block is even a thing.