I fucking hate...

bullshit.





Now I don't think I could call myself an artist without admitting I'm a little nuts, as most artists tend to be, even in small ways. After a few weeks of self loathing, denial, and deep, inner contemplation, I have officially decided: I'm fucking nuts.

Many might tell me, "No, no way," "I've seen crazier," or "What you're going through is completely normal." And, I think this is all bullshit.

I don't think I'm built for this, for love, for marriage, for kids, for a "stable" life. I'm a fucking nut-job in denial.

Or, maybe I'm grieving.

Whenever I feel as though I have lost ownership of myself, I begin to take it back. Sometimes I run, away from the good things that can feel suffocating. Sometimes I make hideous decisions, because they're mine to make. And sometimes I hurt people on purpose, (a thing not easily admitted), because they hurt me first.

Right now, I feel as though I'm about to do all three.


All I can say, is I'm glad to be near my friends and family while trying to keep myself together.

a soon-to-be failure

I started my project. Gave it a name, "Mind, Body, Soul Experiment," and dutifully worked on it for about 30 days. Now it sits, alone, untouched for a few weeks.

At first I thought the project would teach me about myself. I learned very quickly my self motivation and self discipline are lacking in strength.

I still consider my currents thoughts a result of the experiment. This is part of the process to teach myself to be fuller as a whole.

It just sucks.

I had a very clear view of my Self for a few years now, mainly unchanged. A strong, deep thinker, creative and unmerciful. Now I've found my Self is lazy, sarcastic, and slightly dull.

Oh the restlessness I feel is overwhelming.

Here's to getting my shit together.

Vessel

Today I finished reading Julie & Julia. LOL. I never thought I'd read a "movie book". But yes, I have fallen in my sister's footsteps and read through a book made into a movie and re-published after the movie, and I fully intend on seeing the motion picture. The book made me laugh hysterically and actually inspired me to cook more, and experiment. The book has made me rethink my own blogging universe in a way I hadn't thought about in a while.

I used to have a purpose here. LOL. And I still do, but I originally created this space to blurb about my creative journey and artwork. I know, I know... I AM doing that, but I use this space as a journal more or less. My blog entertains me, gives me something to do on Monday afternoons. There hasn't been much creative energy swirling around, nor pictures of recent work or work in progress, mainly because I'm not working on anything. Not even in my head. I'm bone dry.

In my defense I have been overloaded with work, the stress of moving, money, and an up-and-coming wedding. Ok, those are all my excuses, anyway, and I'm loaded with them. I remind myself of these things when I feel badly about ignoring the creative side of me (and she is a large lady... not easily ignorable). But I'm out of fuel! I got nothin'. My life is full of the ordinary right now, the mundane, the double shifts, messy apartment, and family drama, all capable of consuming any one's life. But, I'm supposed to be stronger, to struggle against these things, to make my work more meaningful, to myself or otherwise, because I painted anyway. What happened to my fire? Anyone got a light?

So I want to start a health journal.

Part of this idea may have been inspired subconsciously through the Julie & Julia book, or maybe by my efforts to be healthier. I have been mesmerized by those keeping meticulous records of things. In the Julie & Julia book, Julie made time everyday to let her project consume her, and she documented everything very well. Other artists' work I have witnessed over the last few years, has been focused on a few precise things and I have found myself encompassed in the thought: How did they do that for a whole year? Everyday?

I'm going to try to include things like activities I did during the day, like my new Khama Sutra dancing, things I ate, how my body felt throughout the day, and commentary on my self image- which should be the most interesting of the experiment. Maybe it's not all that interesting, but I think it could be. I wonder how I would change throughout a year, what kinds of health patterns I'll go through, and seeing my body image on paper will be quite a sight.

Now, I'm not a health nut or anything, nor do I want to be. I just want to be healthy in body, mind, and spirit. I'm pretty good and keeping my mind and spirit in shape, but my body?! Eh. So this is a self experiment to see what happens, how I change, and the end results of consciously keeping track of how I treat my body, to remind me to respect my body: as a vessel for my spirit and my mind.

wedding schmedding.

Today: no green tea. Ick. Instead an iced coffee with cream and splenda (because I can't quite get myself to drink coffee without some sweetness).

On Sunday I went to the Bridal Expo in Brookfield, WI. Holy shit. I knew brides were conniving and ravenous, but I had never actually scene it in person. Brad and I squeezed our way through the crowds, bumping purses of every shape and size, pulling his mother and sister along for the ride. And what a ride it was. All I took away from the experience were a few good ideas, and a deeper awareness of how empty my pockets are.

I just can't believe this is how Brides to be spend their time, money, and energy for a year or more before getting married. Is it really necessary?! NO!!!

Brad and I repeatedly looked at one another with a kind of terror you could see no where else but at a Bride-to-be convention. Sheer horror.

So I'm off to plan my wedding like an indie music artist. Cutting every cost corner I can, and eliminating every not-so-important item. Some would call these "budget-cuts," however, I call them, "why-the-hell-do-we-need-THAT-cuts."

I recently talked with my mother who reminding me, (and will have to continue to remind me), the true meaning of marriage and a wedding. So after many, and many more to come, debates, Brad and I are trying to get our wedding ideas down to the core. Strip it down to what it really is, and celebrate the people who will be there, and the experiences we all have to come.

Wish me luck.

Wha Hauhbinned?!

It's been such a terribly long time since I last blogged. Now, there's no real place for blame here, however, I will say I have felt a large pit of guilt in my stomach. It's not that I fear the disappointment of my readers, I'm pretty sure my mom is the only one who reads here, it's my Self I have neglected. So I walked my happy ass across the street today, from my apartment to the divine coffee shop that no one seems to have discovered.

On the path of self-repair, drinking green tea.

Yesterday I bought "Dance of the Kama Sutra with Hemalayaa" on DVD from Barnes & Noble. Isn't Kama Sutra all about those awkward and impossible sexual positions (Barbie couldn't even accomplish)? That's what I thought before this enlightenment in the workout section of the DVD's. By the way, everyone avoids this section like the plague unless the coast is clear, though my shameful perusing was inevitably interrupted by the tall, dark and handsome sales clerk asking if I needed any help... with my Kama Sutra DVD. The EFR in me replied, "Well, are you flexible?" His facial reaction proved my theory: I am not alone in thinking Kama Sutra was purely about sexual positions. Totally worth it.

So, I took my DVD home, changed into some comfy, workout clothes, and flailed around on my new apartment floors. I suppose the more often I do this "workout" I could, potentially, LOOK sexy while doing it, but for now... I look like a raw, Thanksgiving turkey squirming out of grandma's hands while she tries to make it into something delectable.

My goal, with this new venture into workout DVD's, my bitter green tea, and new passion for fresh fruit and veggies, is for my betterment of my Self. Since I moved away from Lincoln, I have been thrown into new paths of Self destruction, trying to avoid the potholes along the way. I'm re-defining myself in this new place, new family, and new job (while planning a wedding). I looked forward to this opportunity a mere three months ago, and it's already proven to be much more than I expected: It's fucking hard!

thought

I feel like being productively artsy today.

Iced Tea and Picture Books

That's right! Despite the recent rumors of snow in our forecast, I squeezed my gigantic glass jar outside on the patio, pumped with packets of tea and water. "Sun tea" is what my mother calls it, or maybe others call it that too, I'm not quite sure. But the point is, I'm drinking tea and eating mocha cereal bars. Mmm... spring is here.

I'm been grinding my teeth lately. I think it's because there are heavy thoughts resting between my head and my pillow making it impossible to sleep soundlessly. The
resonating rifling of teeth clatter hasn't really mulled out the issues at play, therefore: BLOG.

(Hi Grandma!)

As most of my readers my already know, I am planning on relocating (for the sake of anonymity) "out of town". On to the big city! I've been planning my get-away for almost two years now. I ran out of cash when I started my big adventure at SAIC in Chicago, IL, but the city's teeth left scars on my flesh. I've felt the urge to return, this time overcoming the obstacles and creating my legacy, and conquering the big city.

A beautiful dream of the ambitious and naive I suppose.

The Great Plan was drafted and the economy began to fall taking with it hopes, best wishes, and good lucks. I find myself battling loved ones in pursuit of my emprise. For this I apologize.

Tooth to tooth, questions and concerns and motions of heed are prodding at my dreams.
Are dreams just dreams?
Are fear and realities the true guidelines of motion forward? Am I in the position to only grasp at the strands of change? Or am I a martyr subconsciously yearning to fail? But what is true success without the risk of failure? And what is really at risk here?

I could fail. I may be unable to find a job, a place to live. If things worsen I may not be able to pay my bills or purchase groceries. In the extreme, I may become homeless and be a concoction of debt and civil suits. I'll become unwashed, dressed in rags, skin and bones, filled with regret, and meandering the city starving for sympathy.

All my life (a young one, I know) I've lived by the "what if's?" and I've come to a conclusion. I have to believe in myself. I am in charge of my experiences despite all obstacles from foreign parties outside of myself.

I know you're worried. Have faith and hope. Encourage me. This is what I want, what I need. This will change my life for the better and in the best of ways. Watch me grow and learn, watch me succeed in spite of the odds. I can do this.

Have some iced tea, look at picture books and know love.

(ps. none of the images used in this post are my own. They were peeled off the interweb from other sources.)

Painted in Place

thoughts
consumed peace of mine
toying
I Am
playing
Intoxication
seizing mankind

be it with
lusciously
curved
smooth skin
containing hips
rush in my veins

life-lust glazed
calous to calous
they wish for me to touch
lips to fingerips
they hear
nothing

wish
nothing
say you.

3/13/09

Re-invention

I always feel as though I'm waiting for my life to change, to move on. Now I feel the changes whirling in, things are heading in a new direction, and I'm perplexed. I will be moving soon, to a new place, a new town, a new state. I made a comment to my mother earlier today about looking forward to re-inventing myself. At the moment I made the statement, I was disillusioned by the romantic ideal of moving away and becoming a new version of myself. Inevitably, this happens with every turn life takes, but I began to think more about it on my way home. I'm starting to take my art to a new level, beginning to establish connections in the art world, and it finally hit me: I'm a painter. I know, it must be strange to hear, but I think I've been in denial about my talent, and where it will take me, for quite some time. I'd say it's easy to do in a town like Lincoln, where "making it" isn't really an option. Soon I'll be introducing myself to people, making new friends, and I think I'll have to be more direct when this happens. Here, if I run around telling everyone that I paint, it might sound silly, like a Saturday afternoon hobby of mine. In a larger city, it's necessary to be loud about your talent and your ambitions, the louder you are, the more will hear. I'm going to have to grasp the magnitude of my own capabilities and believe in myself to advertise my talent as a professional artist worth investing in. It's a little nerve rattling.

It's True

I think I'm afraid of my talent. My mother has made this observation to me, and now I finally believe her. What brought all of this on? My boyfriend's mother is an artist, and she took a look at my work. While talking with one of her friends she felt inspired enough to share my work with her. Her friend happens to be a gallery owner and established artist. I had goosebumps when I realized she was really looking at my work. The heebiejeebies. What if someone sees my work and calls wanting to show it? It would feel like winning the lottery, a dream come true. What's more frightening? This is the life I want. I want to be in galleries, talking with other artists, and sharing my work- and it's starting. AAAaaaaaaHHhhhHh!!!

too much thinking time

I have been displaced for a week now and I'm almost losing my mind. I can't seem to get comfortable in my own skin, nothing seems right, I can't access my dark chocolate layer. I don't feel at home. I used to think that people were my home, my relationships were what kept me stable. I thought I had learned to maintain stability on my own, giving to those around me through laughter, love, and the other. This very well may be the case, but this time away has been rough. We used to be close, we were able to share everthing, do anything, and we clicked on almost every level. She was the dominant one in high school, I was after graduation, and the field is switching again. I wonder how our relationship will change once she has her child, when she becomes a mother.

Change.

Last night, as I began to fall asleep, I thought about all the ways I've changed in the last five years, the things I've done, and all the things I want to do. (I've always thought those five year plans were kind of silly because my goals change as I do). I was frightened by myself. When people hear what I've been through in my short life, what I've done, the accomplishments, torments and what not, they are usually taken back. Last night I was. I couldn't help but wonder what I'll think late at night when I near the final days of my life. I think I'll have to supress the moments of looking back just for the sake of not being overwhelmed. I know I'm going to do much more, accomplish great things, and change many times over. It's an overwhelming thought to think of all the experiences that lie ahead. I'm not sure what my point is, but I guess it may be whatever faults and regrets I have at the moment will be resurected in the future.

Change.

Am I embracing all the changes that life brings and will continue to bring, or am I avoiding stability?

BlurbBlog

So what am I to blog now?

Well, I completed my painting for my godson. His mother loved it and it's happily waiting to be hung on the wall. The nursery is lovely and everyone is eagerly waiting for this baby to arrive.

This trip has been good for my soul. I have only been on vacation for a week almost, and it feels wonderful. It's been such a long time since I've felt I truly had a break. I find myself getting almost bored. I think it's the displacement getting to me. if I were at home I could find a million and one things to do, not that i would do them, but I would have options. Today I had to ask to be the driver on our grocery getting outing. I almost felt bad. But I must admit, I need a certain level of control. We've done some fun things so far, like getting our toes pampered and painted, and shopping for outrageous Texas memorabilia, which of course there is ton of. In short though, we truly are just twiddling our thumbs until the day this baby arrives. So far, maybe three contractions in the last week, lots of hormones raging at pedestrians, other drivers, the television, the dishes, the dog, and there has even been a little hormonal crankiness directed at me, but I take it lightly. I've had a little practice dealing with tempers and pregnant girls since I work with them day in and day out.

Today we lit the oven on fire. She had dripped something on the burner the last time she cooked and felt too pregnant to clean it up, so I took the liberty of lighting it on fire to boil some water for our pasta. She freaked. It was exciting.

I find myself crawling out of my skin just a little. Like I mentioned before, I think it may just be the displacement. I haven't slept in my own bed, used my own bathroom, drove my own car, smoked in my own house, (or got a little action) in almost a week. I know, I know, the sex thing makes some people scream, "HA! A WEEK?! I HAVEN'T HAD SEX IN ALMOST [insert incredibly long time-length here]!!!" Well just know that I apologize for the absurdity of my statements but remember my point: I'm a little tense. LOL.

I've had a lot of time to get reconnected with friends on the interweb. Not so exciting as it turns out, not so connected anymore. I have to much time to think out here. Have I been too sucked in to work? I hardly talk to my best of friends, I rarely go out with anyone, and it makes me sad that I have three people in my phone contacts that I even talk to on a regular basis. Sad. For that i can say I'm sorry to those I feel I have neglected in the last few months. But on the other hand I always wonder why don't people call me? I have this secret fear that I am one of "those" friends, the one that's awkward but fun to hang out with if they happen to be out with you. The one who's friendly but doesn't make new friends, the one who seems self absorbed but is cool to know. I hope not.

The more I think about my relationships, I realize I'm really terrible at making new friends. I'm too skeptical and nervous. We'll see how that one turns out. Maybe I'm just a busy person, trying to etch out a life and friends will come and go throughout this life. Yes.

I hate time. It seems like I'm always waiting and never in action.

One of my best friends is having a baby, another one just returned from Honduras, one is going to Europe and getting married. I just wonder where I am on this marvelous race. Where do I stand as far as accomplishment? Where am I headed and what will happen to me? All the big "what if?"s.

How to: Paint

So I am now faced with two weeks until I arrived in Copperas Cove, TX for the birth of my godson. It's quite exciting. What's less exciting is that I promised my not yet born godson a painting in celebration of his life, which I was to bring with my on this trip.

I have yet to start such a thing.

8 months ago I think I had a better idea, or hope for a vision. I have no idea what this painting should look like. I have pictured vibrant colors, boy-ish colors (if there is such a thing), and blues. I'm not sure I want to do a painting that will look so much like all the others I've done recently, ie: vibrant reds, oranges and yellows. I think I want to branch out a little and do something that can be ageless and inspirational with every moment in life. I think the blues might be a daunting for a newborn embarking on a fresh life.

Ultimately I would like to produce an abstract, that is vibrant, covers a broad spectrum, and is yet calming and exciting at the same time.

I'm not sure how to accomplish this vision.

It's time to bask in the processing of ideas.

Yay.

Orange Day

these pieces are in progress

Encaustic Wax Painting oooOoOoOoo

I want to do this: