So i finally finished this painting for my uncle. I was supposed to make it for his last birthday, and then for Christmas. but he was gone to rehab, at christmas, so i got a reprieve and more time to put it off.
So I had glued some tissue paper on there.. and a neutral color, and that was it for months.
It sat at the end of my bed taunting me to finish.. but of course i put it off till the very last minute. Which it was, but it wasn't. I had been thinking all that time... of how to do it. i made some half finished mini collages. i thought about what to include. i flip flopped between making a painting, painting. like something that more resembled real life, vs. something i would make. and when it came down to it, i just did it how i wanted. because it's supposed to be from me, and it's supposed to hold memories and mean something. I wanted it to remind my uncle of all those times we all spent at that beach. In that house. And maybe how things are now are so left of how anyone could've imagined them to be, but we still have those memories. And i wouldn't trade them in for anything.
so.. sometimes.. when im drunk, which is probably the only time i feel ok approaching strangers, i roll into the etsy chat room. and it used to be that people would say hi! and whatnot.. even if they didn't know me.
and then tonight... no one said anything. and i said more things..
and nothing..
and it made me feel invisible.
and its sort of like how that one boy that i dig was too depressed to hang out with me.
its like one of those things that you know..you KNOW you shouldn't take personally.. but at the same time you do.
you start to second guess who you are, and what the point is. and really.
people shouldn't affect me like this. effect? affect?
i don't know.
maybe that's why they don't like me. haha.
and i can't shake that i let the dentist intimidate me with his stare and questions about my life and where i'm going. like fuck him. fuck him and his smug ways and his IS THAT ALL? questions once i told him what i do.
i was like.. that's not enough???
i wanted to cry and hate him at the same time. who the fuck are you?
ugh. sorry my ten year plan isn't as clear cut as yours was to dentist school. some people don't know. some people are exploring and trying to figure this shit out. it's not easy. it's the rest of my life. and maybe i avoid thinking about it, and where i want to be, but hell if i need to justify my life to you while i can barely speak because half my mouth is numb from 2039203 shots of novacaine.
maybe i don't know. is that so wrong?
i'm pretty sure i'm not the only person who hasn't gotten it all figured out yet. i don't know why i care so much. i do but i don't. i mean i say i don't, but the fact that i'm writing about this bullshit makes me rethink that stance.
but i wanted this shiny new blog to be about art, which so far hasn't happened. so here.
a new book.
i made this one the other week for the start on the street festival. a book with a canvas cover, gesso'd painted black and covered in the most awesome handmade (not by me) paper ever. if i was paper.. this would be my second choice to be. first being birdnest paper. which i only have a little square left of. ::sigh::
anyways.
me.
i'm rambling. and feeling less shitty now that i've written all this. and maybe i should sleep soon since my pillow is extra soft and this fallish weather begs for blankets.
