Post Birthday Thoughts...
I've had so many things swirling in my head the last few weeks! I'm in a really good bout of creativity. I went and traveled. In doing so, in seeing another part of the world, where I might/could/maybe live (for a shorter while than my last big move, at least) I opened up a good part of myself. I finished an illustration - and discovered an online spiritual mentor.
Well: she's a real-life one (a living, breathing person), but I have not (yet??) met her, or really seen/ known her work beyond online. Her story sounds similar to what mine could (happily, hopefully!) be, and so...I finished a work, an illustration for an author and hopefully, I'll get to do it again sometime. With even more mastery and skill and focused attention behind it. Oh my, I went to get and be so so good (great) in this life/realm.
I would sit and stare at it, for minutes, even possibly an hour, intermittently, on my flight home. And I thought these silver/gold words aloud (in my head): My life has purpose now.
I'd been feeling so purposeless for months, even maybe a few years. I'd still been making work, but I'd always wanted to collab, and finally I did something for someone else.
Of course...well, betwixt all of this is I did the shitty thing of pressing on my clients deadlines (oh boy) and not being fully satisfied in the perfection of 'could be'. So then in the darker turn I think, "I pissed this person off. I'm not professional. I could've done better. He doesn't really like it."
Even though he said he did. Even though I did technically make it in before the deadline.
So you see: to be an artist is to be just a little bit chronically bi-polar or borderline. I've found this fascinating blog that details the percentage of mood-swing disorders among creatives, and of course, it's higher than the norm. And hauntingly, depression is attached to it, but via depression comes great creative expression: the "ability" (ha!) to obsess over things is an asset in the realm of making detailed, nuanced creative choices.
Also, psychopaths are more likely to be CEOs, than in any other field. Methinks I need to escape the office world, stat!
But this is nothing new. A choke hold's a choke hold, in any field. But those that like to have a firm grasp are usually pompous with a need for attention and 'getting it right' - as if there were one 'true' way of going about anything. Ha. Simps. Simpletons! Hogging up space and time with their needs and their needs of subordinates.
I had a really interesting experience, wherein I let my terrifying eyes do the talking, against someone in charge. I suppose the need of my shadow self - to do good, be loved, be liked, never hurt anyone at the expense of destroying myself - paled in my own response. All I could think, feel was that I'd been WRONGED and non-verbally, they would know it.
And then they did.
Perhaps I've fucked myself over at this job, but what's the other course of action? Lay down and apologize? For trying hard, even if not quite getting it "right", while still being a fairly new employee? No, I need to learn the ropes and be true to myself first. So: if my eyes delayed a hiring and if I need to move on, I'll do so. But if things can be healed, then they should be, via my own machinations and no one else's. Big boss man needs to step down and off and away.
And let me do my own thing.
And let me alone.
I work best alone, in terms of art/creativity hours. They're not chatty times.
But to collaborate with someone you admire, that's a gift. And I want more of it. I want my other half, so very badly, to create great stories together and interpret.
We'll see what comes about. I'm looking up more and more illustration gigs.
It'll be interesting. I also might animate/illustrate my sister's poetry.
Good to think outside the box, which often lies in the big/huge inwards.
I have these dreams of certain rock n' rollers. The experimental, weirdo type. I imagine myself as beautiful enough or even more so than enough, and with our talents, we rule the world, and destroy all that pains people.
I don't know what my life will be like but I try to connect with my best self in the here/now.
Hearing how other people 'did it', 'made it', achieved success: it seems tangible, touchable, possible.
I'm tired of movies that focus on the negative. I want the mystery of possibility.
In everything.
Oh and yes, this post: well. I turned 32. Like a woman does.
I hope this year turns me inside out, in the best way. 'In this best of all possible worlds.' Enjoyable song.
Magic words, hopefully magic times.
I wrote this in the afternoon for a change. Not midnight. I look out my window and everything is shining green wet with drippings happening. A few yards over in a huge tree I see a small squirrel, so high above, making its nest.
I vacuumed, I bought ink for my printer/scanner (!), I told my parents that I'd like a low key evening and I plan on drinking good soup broth, for my cough.
Sometimes it's good to be a responsible adult, you know?
You grow young through taking good care of yourself.
Love you, world. Every day is everyone's birthday, really.
Well: she's a real-life one (a living, breathing person), but I have not (yet??) met her, or really seen/ known her work beyond online. Her story sounds similar to what mine could (happily, hopefully!) be, and so...I finished a work, an illustration for an author and hopefully, I'll get to do it again sometime. With even more mastery and skill and focused attention behind it. Oh my, I went to get and be so so good (great) in this life/realm.
I would sit and stare at it, for minutes, even possibly an hour, intermittently, on my flight home. And I thought these silver/gold words aloud (in my head): My life has purpose now.
I'd been feeling so purposeless for months, even maybe a few years. I'd still been making work, but I'd always wanted to collab, and finally I did something for someone else.
Of course...well, betwixt all of this is I did the shitty thing of pressing on my clients deadlines (oh boy) and not being fully satisfied in the perfection of 'could be'. So then in the darker turn I think, "I pissed this person off. I'm not professional. I could've done better. He doesn't really like it."
Even though he said he did. Even though I did technically make it in before the deadline.
So you see: to be an artist is to be just a little bit chronically bi-polar or borderline. I've found this fascinating blog that details the percentage of mood-swing disorders among creatives, and of course, it's higher than the norm. And hauntingly, depression is attached to it, but via depression comes great creative expression: the "ability" (ha!) to obsess over things is an asset in the realm of making detailed, nuanced creative choices.
Also, psychopaths are more likely to be CEOs, than in any other field. Methinks I need to escape the office world, stat!
But this is nothing new. A choke hold's a choke hold, in any field. But those that like to have a firm grasp are usually pompous with a need for attention and 'getting it right' - as if there were one 'true' way of going about anything. Ha. Simps. Simpletons! Hogging up space and time with their needs and their needs of subordinates.
I had a really interesting experience, wherein I let my terrifying eyes do the talking, against someone in charge. I suppose the need of my shadow self - to do good, be loved, be liked, never hurt anyone at the expense of destroying myself - paled in my own response. All I could think, feel was that I'd been WRONGED and non-verbally, they would know it.
And then they did.
Perhaps I've fucked myself over at this job, but what's the other course of action? Lay down and apologize? For trying hard, even if not quite getting it "right", while still being a fairly new employee? No, I need to learn the ropes and be true to myself first. So: if my eyes delayed a hiring and if I need to move on, I'll do so. But if things can be healed, then they should be, via my own machinations and no one else's. Big boss man needs to step down and off and away.
And let me do my own thing.
And let me alone.
I work best alone, in terms of art/creativity hours. They're not chatty times.
But to collaborate with someone you admire, that's a gift. And I want more of it. I want my other half, so very badly, to create great stories together and interpret.
We'll see what comes about. I'm looking up more and more illustration gigs.
It'll be interesting. I also might animate/illustrate my sister's poetry.
Good to think outside the box, which often lies in the big/huge inwards.
I have these dreams of certain rock n' rollers. The experimental, weirdo type. I imagine myself as beautiful enough or even more so than enough, and with our talents, we rule the world, and destroy all that pains people.
I don't know what my life will be like but I try to connect with my best self in the here/now.
Hearing how other people 'did it', 'made it', achieved success: it seems tangible, touchable, possible.
I'm tired of movies that focus on the negative. I want the mystery of possibility.
In everything.
Oh and yes, this post: well. I turned 32. Like a woman does.
I hope this year turns me inside out, in the best way. 'In this best of all possible worlds.' Enjoyable song.
Magic words, hopefully magic times.
I wrote this in the afternoon for a change. Not midnight. I look out my window and everything is shining green wet with drippings happening. A few yards over in a huge tree I see a small squirrel, so high above, making its nest.
I vacuumed, I bought ink for my printer/scanner (!), I told my parents that I'd like a low key evening and I plan on drinking good soup broth, for my cough.
Sometimes it's good to be a responsible adult, you know?
You grow young through taking good care of yourself.
Love you, world. Every day is everyone's birthday, really.
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