Stealing Beauty

I'm watching Stealing Beauty. It became my favorite movie the first time I saw it. It has only become more so every time (x100). I've read reviews and other feedback of people who have - a little  mysteriously perhaps - had the exact same experience. Because it's hard to pin down exactly what it is about this film that captures so many aspects of my spirit it leaves nearly nothing behind. Except maybe the dark, twistedness that will always be me. Maybe I'll give myself the gift of doing an analysis of that one day. One part I will comment on, is this: a young girl is in love with someone she doesn't know very well, held onto to the thought of him, almost lost her virginity to him, found out very quickly he was a player and a douche and not what she was looking for, not worthy of her anything. She falls in love with, and does, soon after, lose her virginity to someone very nearby who is much more sensitive, has loved her, but is quiet a fly against the wall, shy, not the obvious one. The right one.

I need to be an artist. 

Artist being defined as someone who makes their life's work (whether it pays or not), of self expression,  of creation that fulfills some urgent and demanding need inside of them. It requires being part of a community of other artists, because very few people can make art for "a living" and support themselves on their own.

Do I, would I, have what it takes to find my place to devote myself to one thing one medium painting, poetry, fashion? Something else?

Do I need to live a life that not only allows me forces me into freedom of self expression and creative channeling of what I feel and what's in my spirit so that I don't destroy myself and the people around me?

I have no choice.