Leave No Journal Empty Nor Sketchbook Blank

Twelfth grade, grad transitions class, my teacher asked us what we wanted to be. I told him that I wanted to do something in the arts. Acting, dancing, writing, drawing, those things. He told me to find a legitimate career, a real job. 
    When this pandemic began, I started noticing how much people truly relied on the arts as they hunkered down in their homes with naught but sudden spare time on their hands. Even those of us who were bound to work needed the arts as an escape in between our shifts and the rest of our lives. When times were miserable, we disappeared into movies, books, and music. We did dance classes from home and we picked up a new taste for crafting. We worked on our drawing abilities, honed our photography skills, and finally sat down to focus on relearning the piano. 
It wasn’t the business-y businesses that we needed, it was the work of predominantly underpaid and underappreciated artists. We needed to tone out the world on our commutes through music. We needed to feel like people through movies. We needed to run away for a wee while through books. We needed the arts and this isn’t the first time that they’ve been precious to us. Even back in the second World War, people were scavenging for and protecting priceless pieces of artwork. Humans have always preserved, respected, and admired that which is artistic because it’s always meant something. Art is so subjective and in its multitude of forms, it can be appreciated by almost anyone. Not only that, it signifies a moment in our existence, it holds a time period within that we can go back to upon indulging. Yet for some reason, those creating the very works we love, are frequently dismissed from being seen as equals to other businessfolk. 
My teacher told me to find a real job, a legitimate career. If everyone had somehow taken that advice, where would we have been when the world broke? Who would we be even if it didn’t? With nothing to inspire a flurry of emotions, existential questions, and imaginary quests during our downtime, who would we be?
Contributing to any of occupations in such an extensive collection should be seen as honorable not foolish. Those who create genuine feelings might as well be masters of magic. How many times did you weep to mournful notes of a film score? How many times did you gain a surge of energy from hearing your favorite song from your early teens? How many times did you experience sheer awe from spectacular choreography and performances live on a stage a few yards from your seat? Just watching the trailer focusing on the behind-the-scenes for Shen Yun gave me goosebumps. Listening to Charlie Chaplin’s Message to Humanity accompanied by the theme song from Inception makes my heart swell with happiness. Having the soundtracks from shows and movies like Arcane, Loki, Shadow and Bone, The Giver, Oblivion playing in the background whilst I write these logs makes it significantly more enjoyable. 
The arts are the closest thing we have to actual magic I think. The fact that humans can create entire worlds, encapsulate emotions, showcase forgotten or unseen hardships and battles within something pocketable is astounding. All the books I have, all the dvds, all the records and cds and songs on my phone hold countless remedies for mind to soul. For two years we either couldn’t or tried not to leave our homes, but we still had a way out, we still had a temporary getaway nonetheless. 
No child nor fledgling adult should be dissuaded from what they want to do with their life when it comes to being an artist. A high salary doesn’t reap one’s worth nor does it always bring happiness. You can still live a grand life without having a fancy house to show for it. To bring disgrace to the work behind some of the most wonderful aspects of life is shameful. Teachers and parents measuring success by the amount on a paycheque and passing that opinion onto the new generations will result in a lot of miserable people. Most millennials and gen z’s already can’t afford a good and proper life working the jobs we were told to work so, odds are, everyone after us is going to be just as poor. If that be the case, they might as well be poor and do what they love. At the very least, let us artsy folk give this low-paying future a try. If it turns out to be something that doesn’t work out, then so be it. At least it was tried and the peace can be made. A good chunk of us can’t even spare time for hobbies because we need to work so much. If one has the means to take part in dance classes or art school, or film club, cherish that ability and dwell in it as long as possible.
We need the arts, and so we need to see it as an equal with any other profession. Those of us that can and want to do something with it should. For our own sanity and for the freeing of others.