There’s something wonderfully optimistic about adults who genuinely believe their families should indefinitely support their lifestyle choices, simply because they’ve decided to pursue what they call art. It’s as if they’ve crafted a universe where creativity is a valid currency, and everyone else is just too dull to understand the importance of their journey. 

Listen, I totally get it. I still dream of being a rockstar when I grow up but you gotta be Bruce Wayne about it and work until you finally see your own Bat-Signal in the sky. If this city will ever need an artist instead of a vigilante.

Individuals who blur the lines between passion and profession are not uncommon today. Using their creativity as a shield against the harsh realities of adulthood. «Artists» who expect their families to bankroll their dreams indefinitely, because they believe their art is intrinsically valuable. This problem can get worse if you suggest that maybe, just maybe, getting a job or two wouldn’t hurt.