I looked into his blue green eyes-fascination. Those tunnels ran deep. So deep I couldn't even see about a quarter of a way there. I'm trying not to think about those eyes, the eyes that said everything and nothing at the same time.
The blankness that drew me in after 40 months of cutting off any testosterone. I knew how I got, I wouldn't be able to focus if I let a man touch me. All of these suppressed feelings, fire, passion, lust suppressing boiling brewing.
At this point, as my life sacrificing project was trying to come back to fruition , and I was slowly getting my confidence back, those eyes the steady flow of comfort , laying next to me innocently drew me in until I looked down as I usually did.
Even with slight progress I was hurting. Ive been hurting silently, reaching yearning for something to fill this confusion. I knew I was severely lonely but as long as I kept busy it would be ok, right?
It seemed so simple, calm easy it felt right. The problem is I thought I could be simple. I've become quite easy going, go with the flow. People are drawn to that. But I can't control my body chemistry, and after finding about the truth of who I am what I am why I am here, a secret consuming my soul once again my impulses raged the world with a giant
Fuck. This. Shit.
Nothing about me is simple.
That aside, those hands. They were ginormous. They were worn, rough, warm- they were beautiful. When they at times reached around my throat, I lost my mind. In quick moments my mind would blank as the pressure of being squeezed forcefully made everything peaceful. Almost everything was awkward, we were bone tired, Im in a life changing terrible phase, but I found utmost peace in not saying things at times.
I find beauty in oddities, I am not attracted to the jock, money, things like that.
I tried to lower my energy to meet his pace.
Watching him cook was absolutely beautiful to me. It was so structured. So exact. Everything was where it always is. He already knew what he was doing, no need to look anything up. No messes, unexpectencies. Cut, plop , fill boil,
Boom Boom Boom Boom
Done.
My mind was fucking blown.
Here is how I cook ,
Where the fuck did I put that onion? I'm gonna make this pasta by hand, fuck these gmos, do it right do it yourself. I really need to hurry up, as I am sloshing , burning pans because I am cooking 6 things.
Then I have to get the color just right, and add a little bit of this ridiculous ingredient I really don't need because it looks pretty. And it all must be fresh, no bullshit, as my mess from making all this by hand grows and grows and grows and by god I forgot the almond milk, I can't do the dishes now I am running late. DAMN IT I BURNED THE PAN AGAIN. NO I CUT MY FINGER!
I have no idea how it's going to taste because I tried something different, sometimes it's a hit or miss. But usually good.
His body was absolutely beautiful. His arms were carved from hours of labor , and those hands knew where to go when my muscles were screaming.
I don't tell people I am in intense pain all day. I have fibromyalgia, from always on the go : creating, calling, running around getting materials, cooking, exercising, dancing, moving stuff, cleaning, stressing worrying my shoulders and back especially are terrible.
My body on the other hand: My breasts have completely swollen , I am out of shape always on the go but when I am stressed I will binge sweets. When my mind is free i'll lift weights, ride my bike, swim, run , dance. But I have been so worried I just can't focus. I can't find my razor half the time, my pigmentation is off from being so stressed . I got a tummy my hard earned muscles are gone. Its just bad.
That aside;
Something in him seems tortured, his focus is insane. I never knew what he was thinking at all, he felt uncomfortable around people and I am pretty sure I stressed him out.
The thing about me is that I am really quite predictable. I seem complicated. I am bohemian minded but emotionally: I am white picket fence style.
I want loyalty , security, acceptance , stability, understanding, communication
I am erotic, free, creative, stubborn, not traditional at all.
But I want the same thing Betty Crocker does. I may not wear an apron, have a 9-5 job, have everything clean, and wear jeans and a nice shirt but all that stuff is tangible. It's not real, It's meme thinking.
If I don't feel free I will rebel. If anything after being trapped all these years on pills etc, I will fight.
My stressed out self, chakras imbalanced is torturing me. After my awakening started 2 years ago knowing who I am I knew it was a risk spending time with someone with different energy.
And I couldn't even feel anything, smell anything taste anything, and it wasn't him. I was hurting from stretched but I was completely blocked by my friend.
And it built up even more and more. My back felt like my blades were gong to burst out from being in heat. Energy surged outside my body. I was warm on fire, my blood was boiling. I held so much in, lowering my energy wasn't working as it raised and raised and raised and my mind was gone obsessing. I knew that my kundalini was on rapid fire and went rogue. I wanted to control it. No one has ever been able to calm me down.
Because they never even tried. They got scared, ran. I knew, that if I was just touched in that moment it would be OK. Everything would go back to normal.
I knew If I said any of this I would be misunderstood, but I thought be honest explaining the process would work. To explain how it feels why its happening, that I really need this because I am loyal but it didn't matter.
I layed there on my cement floor back breaking more day by day, covered in poison ivy, feverish, completely horny , being ignored, extremely exhausted from traveling collecting materials and working, stressed out. My muscles were aching, I knew I was about to be "dumped", I needed energy. I needed to be touched to be loved. I felt like a monster, I felt misunderstood, I felt unworthy, disgusting. My project was behind I couldn't work, I laid there paralyzed balling, my insides crying, my fear of losing everything I worked hard for then I fell asleep. I needed someone at this time to just hold the defiant. I felt kicked when I was down, my dad was in the hospital it was bad bad bad.
I did this to myself
Apparently I need to date someone else with high energy. Someone who has control of theres unlike me.
I am complicated, but in a beautiful way.
So I walked with feathers in my hair. I stood there as I saw the big white wolf, not the driver but the passenger and the transmitter.
A single vile glass vase I was mentally holding inside my mind with a single struggling rose- my heart. Something I have been trying to protect for so long slipped and shattered on the ground in thick pieces. The pieces I could pick up, because the wounds weren't that deep. I could glue it back together, but I would not let him touch that vase again.
And maybe I was wrong, could of been someone else but I knew at that moment in anger that whatever happened I would not look back.
Because I really was hurt and insecure after all
And we said how things were I was proud of how I handled it, I really do not want drama at all. No more stress. He doesn't get it, it's ok- keep moving. We can be friends.
But what happened on Jefferson, was too much for me . Metaphoric or realistic.
Don't know what those eyes said, I wonder at times.
I don't regret anything , which is huge for me. My heart is open, I need to focus but when the right person comes by and he's ready for something unusual, unique, complicated but beautiful:
I'll ready to defiantly kick him in the face as he puts me in place with a beautiful dominance as I finally submit flying side by side energies raging soaring, exploring , remembering
and calming.
Molding into one because I refuse to sell out.
I just don't understand human relationships, but am willing to learn. I know few will understand this space goddess, haha!
But I know for a couple weeks there I was so happy, running again , looking hot. Got my confidence back until I felt like someone stole my new puppy! I know that my heart being filled is what I need and I am thankful I learned that the rough way. A happy heart is a creative heart.
Painful but I am glad I took the risk.
I lay thinking of those hands sometimes, but I wonder , whose hands will fit symmetrically with mine?
I learned:
Eagle chicken is delicious ( Even though I am now a vegetarian)
I should not get physical when I am bone tired
62 degrees is too cold for me
when your chakras are blocked you will suck in bed
Bad vibes when delivering cookies are real
I still can't play the "game"
I just lost the game in more ways then one. Shit
There is an astrological alignment of stars that looks like someone is peeing
Never let a man get too many mosquito bites
Gorgeous beautiful vintage couches are manipulation devices and I am not having that shit
Always carry a toothbrush
I like riding on a bmx
Don't wear sandals on one
Don't lower your energy so much
I am also called Yolanda
Don't leave your notebook
My sex drive is still insane
Don't believe someone can handle the beast just because they say they can
Always be free, bitch
Sunday, July 31, 2016
Monday, January 25, 2016
Phase 7- Whistle
I was at the local library months ago scrounging through the manga section, because I am "oh-so-cool." Some quite interesting things happened. I saw an affair take place for the first time, realized I am behind on Japanese based illustrated crack, recognized I am usually the last person to leave a place before they close which is pretty lame, but the most striking observation was an elder man singing blankly out in the open with a beautiful flutter whistle. It was a vintage sound completely. That classic pure wholeness of singing in a slice of pie format.I can't remember the exact words at this stage of my life.He was completely care free, his voice loud echoing through the book stands when I just stood there staring in awe at the bravery and beautiful randomness occurring in front of my eyes.The man turned to me and said;
"Oh, I am not crazy. When you get to this age, and you are singing, it means you are happy." He then strolled away in pride continuing where he left off before exiting the building.Not that it matters, but I never assumed he was crazy. I believe I tried to say that. I actually find this moment an omen of sorts.
When I was younger I enjoyed singing. I had a voice, and when I was alone I would belt out the current pop sensations that most girls my age enjoyed. Good ol' 90's. (98 degrees was my shit.) I can't remember before this moment I am about to explain if I sang openly but I know from this day forward I became extremely conscious of my own voice to the point where I didn't even like to hear myself sing.
I was young. Maybe 7 or 8. I went to my mom and I began to sing. I wanted her opinion. I was very proud of what I was executing when my mom simply stated, " Your voice is shaking." That's all it was. As simple as that.
That moment I felt like all of my air was sucked out of me with a straw. A simple honest statement destroyed me. My inner perfectionist shown through when the truth of my voice was not as I heard it. My self esteem smacked the floor, as shame rose to my cheeks in burning waves of red. I looked down for a moment and I don't remember exactly what I did after that besides that I was never able to freely sing in front of people again.
It's silly to think how hard we strive for acceptance, and it's easy to comprehend how important our parents opinions are to most of us especially at such a young age. That fear I developed caused a whole bunch of issues and embarrassing circumstances in the future.
Those aside, there are so many times I just want to open my lungs and belt. Just sing my heart out even if it completely sounded retched. Because it is a source of freedom. A freedom of judgement, restraint, discipline, insecurity, perfectionism,
I get these ideas for songs. Melodies, rhythms, hell if I know. They bobble in my brain, some for years. They are kind of catchy in my opinion. If I just took the time to write out the lyrics I'd feel somewhat more free. But who has time for that with the million others things weighing them down?
I get these ideas for songs. Melodies, rhythms, hell if I know. They bobble in my brain, some for years. They are kind of catchy in my opinion. If I just took the time to write out the lyrics I'd feel somewhat more free. But who has time for that with the million others things weighing them down?
Back to the original point, I've been trying to take more time to resolve my anxiety. More "me" time so I can live more free, finish my tasks more accurately, and to show my true colors of confidence self acceptance, punctuality and straight up badass-ness. Just like how I first got my studio.
Side Note:Now the singing part makes sense after all these years, but the fact that I haven't been able to dance without crumbling down in my own house shows that something has not been right. Dancing since I was 4 years old, it's new that I can't do it freely. It's a sign that I am not OK. This realization can be a tool, or wake up call that you may be mentally unstable or over stressed. If little details are more important then the things that have always made you happy, you are denying yourself of what life has to offer. Joy.
This time taken, whether it's relaxing baths, meditation, resting (what does that mean?), finishing old tasks, self pleasuring, acceptance, has allowed me to have moments of freedom. I am completely fucking miserable if I cannot feel free from all of this. I resemble a butterfly in someways , I like to fly and float, soar into unknown places, unknown situations. Restriction is not for me. So when I get those rare moments,when I feel relaxed, I have been singing. In my car, in the shower, sometimes outside and even in front of some people. That, is a huge breakthrough for me. That is growth in a big way.
I lost my way since last May, but I know for certain there are ways I have grown. Being a New Year my resolution is the same as last. To finish what I started. So when a woman and I downtown talked numerous times about creating a band I knew would never exist I told her I would send some songs. Naturally these days I kept puttinn it off, it was never truly the right time.
Recently though, as Clyde my volvo and I drifted towards the museum I recorded a song hook that has been bogging my mind and sent that mind floater to the woman. Did I text "keep in mind I can't sing"? Yes, yes I did. Did I send the song, sing in front of myself and another, despite the incident as a child, the moment I lost a creative part of my soul? Yes, I did. I fucking did.
I didn't get a response. Apparently my anxiety driven self doubt insecure current persona drove away my new "friends" or acquaintances. But you know what, I did it for me. I punched that self doubt demon in the face and recorded that shit.
So in theory, self doubt and axiety-sadness if you will can completely destroy a sense of freedom. In this circumstance- creativity. Creatively, proven as a symbol of freedom. That the soul craves individualism. That pure happiness is shown with acceptance of difference to normal standards.
So in theory, self doubt and axiety-sadness if you will can completely destroy a sense of freedom. In this circumstance- creativity. Creatively, proven as a symbol of freedom. That the soul craves individualism. That pure happiness is shown with acceptance of difference to normal standards.
It's so easy to get caught up in the thoughts of others, here and now in this society. Our fears, circumstances can cut off the will to express ourselves. If you see a person singing in public, you shouldn't be embarrassed or pity them for being "attention whores." In my opinion, you should envy them.
Because those people accept themselves, and at any age if you are singing in public or in general- it means you are happy.
To the old man who passed on that wisdom, thank you for that moment when I realized I wanted too, to sing as well. I wanted to be happy. I want now to be happy. So Every time I open my vocal chords good or bad I know in the back of my mind I am doing something right and that feels so damn good. So. Damn. Good.
To the old man who passed on that wisdom, thank you for that moment when I realized I wanted too, to sing as well. I wanted to be happy. I want now to be happy. So Every time I open my vocal chords good or bad I know in the back of my mind I am doing something right and that feels so damn good. So. Damn. Good.
Saturday, October 17, 2015
Phase 6 Teeter Totter
As I discussed our encounter in that parking lot, my hair loose and wild. My breasts loose in the wind, my face pure without pigment. Sipping my first shitty beer ordered at the bar talking anthropologie self obsessed testing blurbs one mouth to another. It all disappeared when she said.
I should stay away.
And it awakened all the pre signs, the times I didn't listen.
And then the symbols came. Making my disassociated decision to resist you without hesitation , hesitated because that sick mindfucking chance that you could have information.
Then fear set it from discussions based on your ruthlessness.
Then the chains came, but then I realized instead to fear you I should heal you
And now at times like this I stop and think
Do I even like you at all, or do I want what I can't have.
You scare me, turn me on, inspire , disgust intrigue
I told myself I'd stay focused.
I am vulerable, loving , in heat
But I must stay away.
It's not crazy chick syndrome, unfortunately this is much deeper. That's why it has or hasn't manifested into something dark and horribly time wasting.
A date or two may be nice
I could use a distraction from you.
We all know when I get passed this confused stage
I'll be on to the next city.
I should stay away.
And it awakened all the pre signs, the times I didn't listen.
And then the symbols came. Making my disassociated decision to resist you without hesitation , hesitated because that sick mindfucking chance that you could have information.
Then fear set it from discussions based on your ruthlessness.
Then the chains came, but then I realized instead to fear you I should heal you
And now at times like this I stop and think
Do I even like you at all, or do I want what I can't have.
You scare me, turn me on, inspire , disgust intrigue
I told myself I'd stay focused.
I am vulerable, loving , in heat
But I must stay away.
It's not crazy chick syndrome, unfortunately this is much deeper. That's why it has or hasn't manifested into something dark and horribly time wasting.
A date or two may be nice
I could use a distraction from you.
We all know when I get passed this confused stage
I'll be on to the next city.
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
Phase 5- Let go
I've just awoken, fresh tears in the corners of my eye surviving x amount of time I just slept. I believe I just dreamt of Francis Bacon. One of my 3 main mentors urged me to research the artist, finally I dropped everything else in desperation searching for something relatable as the darkness was urging me to take my life. I lost control, and when you can't attain, you need to lose to gain.
I spent the past year trying to fix myself. I was doing pretty well, eating right, working out, zen attitudes. I was the good mystic. Facebook fed my approval issues with positive trends influencing others. It was all about the big picture. The objective of these changes that painfully consumed all my time was to transform these actions into some type of muscle memory. An automatic form of whole living to make access to my art more attainable. As previously state the end goal was to paint freely.
It seems like I am mocking those changes. Those changes , the routine, discipline sacrifice made my life 10 times more enjoyable. I made tons of friends attracted people because of the ways of changing my emotional state.
I proabably should of never stopped doing that. Hell, I wouldn't be in an again slobby room I spent 15 hours straight cleaning out of misery, overweight, covered in chocolate and shame, blind from losing my glasses dancing in the street at a red light bla bla bla.
In that time I spent most of it cooking organizing working out. I had no way to create, no time. So with all that I seemed to confine my emotions, refusing myself to feel. Because of the fear of other peoples reactions to my feelings. I have almost lost the closest person in my life, I did lose people, blew a lot of stuff up because of my immuturity, compulsions, anxiety, just pure force of negative emotional tornadoes.
I do still believe my current diagnosis is bullshit. As stated I have the facts proof and research to back it up. I believe that my original diagnosis is emotionally environmental based but the similarity in the symptoms are to the mocking level. So even though I am trying to undo all this damage that has made my life so hard to live (cognitive function dwindling from wrongfully prescribed meds etc) that doesn't make it right to deny myself that I am an emotional person regardless. That without these emotions I wouldn't be good at what I do. That my love for people make it hard for me to function because I am trying to save the world. My feeling are so intense at times I feel like I take them from other people. I need to take this darkness and transform it as a creator or dreamer and innovator and construct is as a empathetic relate-able powerful or just plain healing sense of imagery.
Because no one wants to be alone..........................forever.
But if I take all that darkness from others and I have the ball or tar in my hands and cannot transfer it to canvas because oddly the world does still spin without me (sigh) it will honestly take me down with it and manifest my body.
So I went from being miss perfect to the fear that I wasn't feeling much inside. Even though I felt so much for people i oddly have become unable to show show my empathy or interest in others daily lives. Because I was losing who I was still am party of it is gone. So this self obsessive search of Who Am I, is going on.I feel so guilty too, I know how I come off and I can't stand it. I seem to talk a lot about myself hoping that the vain words that pour forward combine with others words into a paragraph of self identified description. That in reality I really don't give that much a shit about myself. The truth is I want to figure this out and move on. Or I am alone a lot or was alone to try and focus into a trance world changing artist and whatever it is that I have been doing doesn't work.
So for some reason it started breaking out a little bit at a time the emotion). I first didn't have my period for 8 months. I think it was from overworking the extreme diet, paleo and working out. I was secretly going to a cancer center which I never followed through with my check ups. My beaus nails and low immunity I think was just an extreme thing. They were just checking my blood nothing was diagnosed. I want to be a professional skilled artist so bad that I do all these things and I don't care about my physical being at times. I was always a hard worker and people mocking tones corrupted me into displaying that I am hardcore.
I'm just realizing that I am a combination of exhibitionist and masochist in live form. Look at my nails the dirt and ruggedness. Look at the bruises the tired lines my physical deteriorating state. Look at the way I slump, and do not hold my stuff I will walk in pain and enjoy the hard work that I have always done. In my pearls, in my dress, my nice lipstick as my fibro I never treat aches my every move carrying 40 lbs of art supplies in high heels.
Since I haven't been able to finish any 2d work my being has become a work of art itself. The way I dress, when I eat something because I can't live without Art. And I haven't been able to stay in the zone and I am suffering. I am suffering bad. I can't even think from all this anxiety and when I can't think I can't draw. You see lines, you see those rugged lines on my paper. But that isn't me it doesn't feel good. It's settling. People like this settling stage this style and I want to scream: "It is not me. "
I never have time it seems, I never know when I'll have the energy for these ideas so even when I am drawing that body searching for mastered perfections I don't have the time to breathe, to erase, because every move is the wrong one. The eyes everywhere, who do you think you are. You can't draw, you have no discipline. Do you even listen, You don't take this seriously, let go, breathe listen to this music, ramp up your energy, slow down your energy, take this angle. Focus Focus.
That small paragraph is 1/1,000,000,000 of what stresses me each day. And with all of this again I haven't been able to feel. So it started. I'd get so thankful when some tears started to come back. I realize my tears are now a sign of inner truth. I am so out of touch with my body I don't know how I feel about things internally. Unfortunately my stress has been so bad I am losing my ability to smell taste, touch.
I don't know when I am full, because my art is not being fulfilled pleasantly that void is starving my soul- so now I got a binge problem. I don't want pity, I want to be free. I want to help others. I am sick of being late to places ,seeming like I am just taking from people. I am also sick of the moments I feel free at last being robbed from me.
So then the tears and stuff made me realize how I really felt then my mojo got reawakened full intense by a male downtown (who I will never admit in a million years I am focused thank you) so that full range of intense passion and need has been nagging at me.
So I began feeding my medically induced mania lately, to keep that zone or whatnot. Doing completely opposite. Drinking caffeine, listening to impulsive pop music I have emotions I haven't had for awhile. Even so, I am not that little girl with a tiger in her throat who screams to get her way.(In an aggressive way I have tantrums but usually when I am secretly tired and in pain) Honestly the emotions come out from holding it in so long. Almost Every time I feel publicly with family , I still get blamed for this bipolar thing when in reality I am a fucking human and I am upset because my rooms a mess from trying to be successful I spent 4 hours trying to do something that should take 10 minutes because I lost my passcodes I can't think , technology isn't working I ran into people that needed help my phone rang 10 times I am in need of exercises, I had to go get this medicine go to this doctor my tire popped , I missed this appointment, I am in huge pain blablablabla.
It's life, this stuff happens, but can I not feel ashamed of crying a little because all of that has happened in a day? Would you honestly want to cry if you were told of being too emotional because of an illness you didn't have. Because when you are sad you are seriously enabled making it worse because you won't be able to handle the world?
I cry, and I need to cry more. I need to be upset. I am an expressionist for fucksake. I am real. People see that, they know I am real. They know I mean what I say because I intend to do it. Sometimes, well often, my ideas are so grand I can't control them so what I want to do doesn't happen but I meant it when I said it.
So looking at Bacons stuff, all that emotion, all those shameful taboo thoughts he said doesn't fucking matter. Because he is an artist. He is a raw artist based on emotion. That pride in imperfection made him successful.
So am I. Even though it's tough training to enhance my surrealism. I just want to put that into paper and feel complete. I just want to fly and let go and create. Make my bows finish my stuff without all this guilt . The right way, if it doesn't feel good it sucks.
And I can't create right now. I try to rest but I feel those ants again. The distortioned critters saying my life is wasting away. It is kind of I want to be all around the world and I barely am anywhere but downtown. I have to figure out what to do. I am in deep. This is what I am meant to do.
I always talk how I enjoy imperfections in life and people especially in physical form because people always think I am perfect and it makes me uncomfortable. But maybe I did do or well that I have been trying to be. So I don't fall again.
Ive been so ashamed at my gifts. When I think back about the people who really cared about what I say in artspeak, it's when I get that passion of expressing pain or the way the world is in some forms that I see tears well up in their eyes. And when I am talking and that is happening my words and passion is so deep that right there in that moment it latches onto their spiritual heart and helps them feel what they forgot , THAT is what I need to get on paper. That is what I have been working on.
Spuratic works or whatever this is all I can do. Because I am supposed to. The responsibility is wearing on me. I feel if I don't create from this wisdom from divine dreams inner reflection I am letting others down. I have to feel, I have to feel everything. I have to get it down on paper, I have to study. I am trying but I cannot deny my right as an emotional person. I don't know what I need to do, but I am in fear of losing control. I am my own worse enemy. Every ticking second is a ticking second wasted.
Because of my past trauma it's the fear of what people could be saying thinking or do to me that has making me play it safe. Well I need to hurt because that is how I create masterpieces of art.
Get out of your fucking head and just do it.
It's just not easy to study anatomy when you are like THE SKULL OF THE DEMON OF TIME, but I'd rather draw the skull of the demon of time then the skull of how do i look how is my pencil what are people thinking of me I must do everything perfect I can't think god I am so delusional.
Thank you Francis Bacon for your raw art Thank you Grandma for Famous Artists handbook I just woke up on ( Fell asleep on emotional distortion HAHA)
God Jes if your going to binge on genetically modified horseshit at least do it on something fucking delicious.
I think a release of passionate emotions if you know what I am saying will help calm this tidal wave. For now I got these stupid boxes to draw and some more sleep.
I've learned:
I work really hard, I forgot I have a "disability" I can't control as much as I try, that I will figure it out and I will get there because I want it and for good intentions.
I pray I can finish the projects I want, and draw because I love to again. I miss it so much, so damn much I miss my lost love.
I am a hott mess, but it wouldn't be me if it wasn't a mess, a pile , a trip, a break. Passion doesn't come timeless glass globes. It comes in marbles breaking in every direction. Turning, rolling with lights reflecting the core bouncing off everything it can illuminate. I lose my marbles often but they will always come back. They are a part of me, I am a mess you can balance that jar but you can't glue it to the table. Marbles are meant to roll, and as I roll into all my random situations I hope I roll into an intimate one where my soul can talk and cry all it wants and others can cry with it.
To hankies
And with that I bow.
Again this grammar is going to make like the wind and blow.
I spent the past year trying to fix myself. I was doing pretty well, eating right, working out, zen attitudes. I was the good mystic. Facebook fed my approval issues with positive trends influencing others. It was all about the big picture. The objective of these changes that painfully consumed all my time was to transform these actions into some type of muscle memory. An automatic form of whole living to make access to my art more attainable. As previously state the end goal was to paint freely.
It seems like I am mocking those changes. Those changes , the routine, discipline sacrifice made my life 10 times more enjoyable. I made tons of friends attracted people because of the ways of changing my emotional state.
I proabably should of never stopped doing that. Hell, I wouldn't be in an again slobby room I spent 15 hours straight cleaning out of misery, overweight, covered in chocolate and shame, blind from losing my glasses dancing in the street at a red light bla bla bla.
In that time I spent most of it cooking organizing working out. I had no way to create, no time. So with all that I seemed to confine my emotions, refusing myself to feel. Because of the fear of other peoples reactions to my feelings. I have almost lost the closest person in my life, I did lose people, blew a lot of stuff up because of my immuturity, compulsions, anxiety, just pure force of negative emotional tornadoes.
I do still believe my current diagnosis is bullshit. As stated I have the facts proof and research to back it up. I believe that my original diagnosis is emotionally environmental based but the similarity in the symptoms are to the mocking level. So even though I am trying to undo all this damage that has made my life so hard to live (cognitive function dwindling from wrongfully prescribed meds etc) that doesn't make it right to deny myself that I am an emotional person regardless. That without these emotions I wouldn't be good at what I do. That my love for people make it hard for me to function because I am trying to save the world. My feeling are so intense at times I feel like I take them from other people. I need to take this darkness and transform it as a creator or dreamer and innovator and construct is as a empathetic relate-able powerful or just plain healing sense of imagery.
Because no one wants to be alone..........................forever.
But if I take all that darkness from others and I have the ball or tar in my hands and cannot transfer it to canvas because oddly the world does still spin without me (sigh) it will honestly take me down with it and manifest my body.
So I went from being miss perfect to the fear that I wasn't feeling much inside. Even though I felt so much for people i oddly have become unable to show show my empathy or interest in others daily lives. Because I was losing who I was still am party of it is gone. So this self obsessive search of Who Am I, is going on.I feel so guilty too, I know how I come off and I can't stand it. I seem to talk a lot about myself hoping that the vain words that pour forward combine with others words into a paragraph of self identified description. That in reality I really don't give that much a shit about myself. The truth is I want to figure this out and move on. Or I am alone a lot or was alone to try and focus into a trance world changing artist and whatever it is that I have been doing doesn't work.
So for some reason it started breaking out a little bit at a time the emotion). I first didn't have my period for 8 months. I think it was from overworking the extreme diet, paleo and working out. I was secretly going to a cancer center which I never followed through with my check ups. My beaus nails and low immunity I think was just an extreme thing. They were just checking my blood nothing was diagnosed. I want to be a professional skilled artist so bad that I do all these things and I don't care about my physical being at times. I was always a hard worker and people mocking tones corrupted me into displaying that I am hardcore.
I'm just realizing that I am a combination of exhibitionist and masochist in live form. Look at my nails the dirt and ruggedness. Look at the bruises the tired lines my physical deteriorating state. Look at the way I slump, and do not hold my stuff I will walk in pain and enjoy the hard work that I have always done. In my pearls, in my dress, my nice lipstick as my fibro I never treat aches my every move carrying 40 lbs of art supplies in high heels.
Since I haven't been able to finish any 2d work my being has become a work of art itself. The way I dress, when I eat something because I can't live without Art. And I haven't been able to stay in the zone and I am suffering. I am suffering bad. I can't even think from all this anxiety and when I can't think I can't draw. You see lines, you see those rugged lines on my paper. But that isn't me it doesn't feel good. It's settling. People like this settling stage this style and I want to scream: "It is not me. "
I never have time it seems, I never know when I'll have the energy for these ideas so even when I am drawing that body searching for mastered perfections I don't have the time to breathe, to erase, because every move is the wrong one. The eyes everywhere, who do you think you are. You can't draw, you have no discipline. Do you even listen, You don't take this seriously, let go, breathe listen to this music, ramp up your energy, slow down your energy, take this angle. Focus Focus.
That small paragraph is 1/1,000,000,000 of what stresses me each day. And with all of this again I haven't been able to feel. So it started. I'd get so thankful when some tears started to come back. I realize my tears are now a sign of inner truth. I am so out of touch with my body I don't know how I feel about things internally. Unfortunately my stress has been so bad I am losing my ability to smell taste, touch.
I don't know when I am full, because my art is not being fulfilled pleasantly that void is starving my soul- so now I got a binge problem. I don't want pity, I want to be free. I want to help others. I am sick of being late to places ,seeming like I am just taking from people. I am also sick of the moments I feel free at last being robbed from me.
So then the tears and stuff made me realize how I really felt then my mojo got reawakened full intense by a male downtown (who I will never admit in a million years I am focused thank you) so that full range of intense passion and need has been nagging at me.
So I began feeding my medically induced mania lately, to keep that zone or whatnot. Doing completely opposite. Drinking caffeine, listening to impulsive pop music I have emotions I haven't had for awhile. Even so, I am not that little girl with a tiger in her throat who screams to get her way.(In an aggressive way I have tantrums but usually when I am secretly tired and in pain) Honestly the emotions come out from holding it in so long. Almost Every time I feel publicly with family , I still get blamed for this bipolar thing when in reality I am a fucking human and I am upset because my rooms a mess from trying to be successful I spent 4 hours trying to do something that should take 10 minutes because I lost my passcodes I can't think , technology isn't working I ran into people that needed help my phone rang 10 times I am in need of exercises, I had to go get this medicine go to this doctor my tire popped , I missed this appointment, I am in huge pain blablablabla.
It's life, this stuff happens, but can I not feel ashamed of crying a little because all of that has happened in a day? Would you honestly want to cry if you were told of being too emotional because of an illness you didn't have. Because when you are sad you are seriously enabled making it worse because you won't be able to handle the world?
I cry, and I need to cry more. I need to be upset. I am an expressionist for fucksake. I am real. People see that, they know I am real. They know I mean what I say because I intend to do it. Sometimes, well often, my ideas are so grand I can't control them so what I want to do doesn't happen but I meant it when I said it.
So looking at Bacons stuff, all that emotion, all those shameful taboo thoughts he said doesn't fucking matter. Because he is an artist. He is a raw artist based on emotion. That pride in imperfection made him successful.
So am I. Even though it's tough training to enhance my surrealism. I just want to put that into paper and feel complete. I just want to fly and let go and create. Make my bows finish my stuff without all this guilt . The right way, if it doesn't feel good it sucks.
And I can't create right now. I try to rest but I feel those ants again. The distortioned critters saying my life is wasting away. It is kind of I want to be all around the world and I barely am anywhere but downtown. I have to figure out what to do. I am in deep. This is what I am meant to do.
I always talk how I enjoy imperfections in life and people especially in physical form because people always think I am perfect and it makes me uncomfortable. But maybe I did do or well that I have been trying to be. So I don't fall again.
Ive been so ashamed at my gifts. When I think back about the people who really cared about what I say in artspeak, it's when I get that passion of expressing pain or the way the world is in some forms that I see tears well up in their eyes. And when I am talking and that is happening my words and passion is so deep that right there in that moment it latches onto their spiritual heart and helps them feel what they forgot , THAT is what I need to get on paper. That is what I have been working on.
Spuratic works or whatever this is all I can do. Because I am supposed to. The responsibility is wearing on me. I feel if I don't create from this wisdom from divine dreams inner reflection I am letting others down. I have to feel, I have to feel everything. I have to get it down on paper, I have to study. I am trying but I cannot deny my right as an emotional person. I don't know what I need to do, but I am in fear of losing control. I am my own worse enemy. Every ticking second is a ticking second wasted.
Because of my past trauma it's the fear of what people could be saying thinking or do to me that has making me play it safe. Well I need to hurt because that is how I create masterpieces of art.
Get out of your fucking head and just do it.
It's just not easy to study anatomy when you are like THE SKULL OF THE DEMON OF TIME, but I'd rather draw the skull of the demon of time then the skull of how do i look how is my pencil what are people thinking of me I must do everything perfect I can't think god I am so delusional.
Thank you Francis Bacon for your raw art Thank you Grandma for Famous Artists handbook I just woke up on ( Fell asleep on emotional distortion HAHA)
God Jes if your going to binge on genetically modified horseshit at least do it on something fucking delicious.
I think a release of passionate emotions if you know what I am saying will help calm this tidal wave. For now I got these stupid boxes to draw and some more sleep.
I've learned:
I work really hard, I forgot I have a "disability" I can't control as much as I try, that I will figure it out and I will get there because I want it and for good intentions.
I pray I can finish the projects I want, and draw because I love to again. I miss it so much, so damn much I miss my lost love.
I am a hott mess, but it wouldn't be me if it wasn't a mess, a pile , a trip, a break. Passion doesn't come timeless glass globes. It comes in marbles breaking in every direction. Turning, rolling with lights reflecting the core bouncing off everything it can illuminate. I lose my marbles often but they will always come back. They are a part of me, I am a mess you can balance that jar but you can't glue it to the table. Marbles are meant to roll, and as I roll into all my random situations I hope I roll into an intimate one where my soul can talk and cry all it wants and others can cry with it.
To hankies
And with that I bow.
Again this grammar is going to make like the wind and blow.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Phase 4- Gratitude
Those who don't know my work as an artist-it's very intense. I have a combination of techniques I do-whether performance, psych evaluations, method painting , mystic type stuff, expressionism, surrealism,having the right mood, feeling ok doing it mentally/physically, certain materials, certain music, things ready to go, expression through fashion, diet,feathers, feathers feathers, certain shoes wigs notebooks theorisms etc
You wonder why I'm all over the place?
It's very complex. I am very complex.
The homeless people in the area have started to captivate me deeply. I had this idea to spread awareness, but I am finding there are many foes in the process.
I wanted to focus on the reason people as myself get nervous looking at people with signs and such in the eye. The feeling they get in return.
Honestly they have to know what they are doing. They know it's, raw,brave,desperate. They know the speculations, they know that they are speculating the others speculations.
They know which people look nice, those who will exploit them for loitering.
What a lot of the people don't realize (especially the people with what I call : "The script") is: They are working. Working for me.
I document everything if not on paper in my head. I notice reactions to what I say, what I give-What they give.
I see other peoples reactions. I notice the thoughts I get when asked and they aren't always impressive.
The more I get into this project the more layers I am seeing, and today- today was a game changer.
I was running with the deer. What I could use left of my legs after a quick and semi hard superset leg routine was jumping over fallen trees, dodging branches, gouging my appendix remembering the unremembered.
I was sitting there peaceful as ever. Finding material to barter with the local florist downtown. Feeling the stilled beauty.I was convinced I was completely alone on the river. Personal intimate words intwining with the forest when I look over and spot a tall boy with red hair.
I first started to think: "Geez can't be left alone for a minute can I?" But my thoughts started to transform into " Jes, don't you want others to walk off the paved path, embrace this boy for following his heart. This isn't your land this our land, just continue your journey."
There was a mini waterfall tinkling slowly into the water. I see him walking along the water. We just stared at each other for a moment.
I had thoughts such as" Must be bored out of school, not often I see boys his age into nature that's very good for his generation.
I then found balance and ascended up the hill not fearing the mud and accepting the possible failed attempt to get up the hill.
My jump was successful as I continued walking. I didn't know where I was going but I did notice that I didn't know where I was going and I didn't care.
There were parts of me sitting by the creek saying: Go home do chores, do the dishes, clean up , cook, you could be studying , you could be finishing those tasks you have been putting off, you haven't sewn you can do that now, you can create this finish this........
I stood firm at one point and said "I don't WANT to right now. I DO NOT want to. I like it here now, it feels good-it feels right.
That part of my soul that craves the trees to take over. That lives by the barter, the trade of skills of survival not greed. Appreciating others crafts, living whole simply.
Being in those woods, my mind after a while didn't care about all that. As my body moved freely, as I was grounded-happy. I suddenly met paths with a whole family of deer.
I decided to say a few things and move on. To not and try to force respect. To gain it being myself, not what I think they want to hear. To let them have their time as a family in the woods. To accept and be thankful for the courage of following my heart.
Even so, I turned to them explaining this emotion that has been flowing in and out. I am thankful for feelings of jealousy, sadness, empathy
Empathy
Empathy.
The more I go off the trails in the woods I learn more about myself as a whole. I learn that I want to love myself. I want to love others around me I learn that I want to love the world.
One of the main cognitive exercises I work on in those sacred places is intuition. Snap thinking. That gut again. No not the fact that I am taking probiotics-that IF ONLY I __ __ __ gut.
That whole realization to think, "What do I WANT to do again?" What do I truly want to do? Which way do I want to go, not that I should, or have to what feels right? Quicker judgements on the safest, most accurate route. Not thinking about the skills I have, but using them naturally. Accepting failure as previously stated. If I fall get covered in dirt, I bleed, I knick my shirt, those are artificial battle wounds.
I am hoping these little experiments will help with my career as an artist and timed decisions.
I decided the deer didn't need to hear my baggage. I walked on with them presuming their woodland deer speak.
I again decided to take some emotional thoughts that decided to expand my brain to an audio level. When again I was sharing some words out loud, I ran into that boy. He somehow crossed the river and met me on the other side.
I decided to ask him about the waterfall. Because honestly, I wanted to enjoy it as well. I find that there is this silenced rule of not intruding in others space unless invited in the woods. These private areas are getting more and more rare. Especially with property laws, trespassing etc. People just want to be alone. Since he was over there, I gave him that space to do whatever souls searching he was up to.
So I asked him about it and in doing so I looked him in the eyes and realized it wasn't a boy, it was a man. A young man.
His supercillery crest protruded deeper then usual from his forehead. I had an automatic thought of how awesome it was. That maybe he was a descendent of the Neanderthals.
He then began to talk. His voice was very deep. He said ehh I don't know. The naive thoughts of this guy being unintelligent shamefully crossed my mind.
But then as we continued chatting I decided to wake up and put the pieces together. This young man was emancipated. The heat was effecting his speech. He was disorientated, possibly dehydrated. His arms were boney, clothes baggy.
He didn't want anything. We didn't talk about if he was homeless. He stated that he traveled a lot he is used to it.
Realizing I had veggies in my car I asked if he's eaten in a while he said: No.
Side Note:A thing that has been bothering me about this project is the effort I am putting into not pointing out the askers are homeless. Better yet, not talking about it. To talk tot he people as if they are well: just people. They are. Maybe they could use a friend, maybe it be nice to talk about the city the world, that bird over there.
I keep running into the script subtypes that don't appreciate it. They don't appreciate I sacrificed my lunch for them, they don't appreciate anything. Not even if you give.
Damn expectations. (Do I need a hug or something?)
A homeless profit told me that people rarely try to engage with those living on the streets. They give them money , donate, then move on. I think that is very valuable information.
Those who really want and need help are those who aren't comfortable in their current circumstances. They don't wan to focus on that, they don't want pity. They don't ask for help, they are embarrassed but appreciative of the time you share which sounds disgusting.
Like if I had more time for someone who just so happened to have a home.
That's what it is really.
A person, a breathing, living, present person who doesn't have a home. They are homeless.
Dictionary.com
adjective noun, ( used with a plural verb)
This is what it has been distorted into
Urban Dictionary
You wonder why I'm all over the place?
It's very complex. I am very complex.
The homeless people in the area have started to captivate me deeply. I had this idea to spread awareness, but I am finding there are many foes in the process.
I wanted to focus on the reason people as myself get nervous looking at people with signs and such in the eye. The feeling they get in return.
Honestly they have to know what they are doing. They know it's, raw,brave,desperate. They know the speculations, they know that they are speculating the others speculations.
They know which people look nice, those who will exploit them for loitering.
What a lot of the people don't realize (especially the people with what I call : "The script") is: They are working. Working for me.
I document everything if not on paper in my head. I notice reactions to what I say, what I give-What they give.
I see other peoples reactions. I notice the thoughts I get when asked and they aren't always impressive.
The more I get into this project the more layers I am seeing, and today- today was a game changer.
I was running with the deer. What I could use left of my legs after a quick and semi hard superset leg routine was jumping over fallen trees, dodging branches, gouging my appendix remembering the unremembered.
I was sitting there peaceful as ever. Finding material to barter with the local florist downtown. Feeling the stilled beauty.I was convinced I was completely alone on the river. Personal intimate words intwining with the forest when I look over and spot a tall boy with red hair.
I first started to think: "Geez can't be left alone for a minute can I?" But my thoughts started to transform into " Jes, don't you want others to walk off the paved path, embrace this boy for following his heart. This isn't your land this our land, just continue your journey."
There was a mini waterfall tinkling slowly into the water. I see him walking along the water. We just stared at each other for a moment.
I had thoughts such as" Must be bored out of school, not often I see boys his age into nature that's very good for his generation.
I then found balance and ascended up the hill not fearing the mud and accepting the possible failed attempt to get up the hill.
My jump was successful as I continued walking. I didn't know where I was going but I did notice that I didn't know where I was going and I didn't care.
There were parts of me sitting by the creek saying: Go home do chores, do the dishes, clean up , cook, you could be studying , you could be finishing those tasks you have been putting off, you haven't sewn you can do that now, you can create this finish this........
I stood firm at one point and said "I don't WANT to right now. I DO NOT want to. I like it here now, it feels good-it feels right.
That part of my soul that craves the trees to take over. That lives by the barter, the trade of skills of survival not greed. Appreciating others crafts, living whole simply.
Being in those woods, my mind after a while didn't care about all that. As my body moved freely, as I was grounded-happy. I suddenly met paths with a whole family of deer.
I decided to say a few things and move on. To not and try to force respect. To gain it being myself, not what I think they want to hear. To let them have their time as a family in the woods. To accept and be thankful for the courage of following my heart.
Even so, I turned to them explaining this emotion that has been flowing in and out. I am thankful for feelings of jealousy, sadness, empathy
Empathy
Empathy.
The more I go off the trails in the woods I learn more about myself as a whole. I learn that I want to love myself. I want to love others around me I learn that I want to love the world.
One of the main cognitive exercises I work on in those sacred places is intuition. Snap thinking. That gut again. No not the fact that I am taking probiotics-that IF ONLY I __ __ __ gut.
That whole realization to think, "What do I WANT to do again?" What do I truly want to do? Which way do I want to go, not that I should, or have to what feels right? Quicker judgements on the safest, most accurate route. Not thinking about the skills I have, but using them naturally. Accepting failure as previously stated. If I fall get covered in dirt, I bleed, I knick my shirt, those are artificial battle wounds.
I am hoping these little experiments will help with my career as an artist and timed decisions.
I decided the deer didn't need to hear my baggage. I walked on with them presuming their woodland deer speak.
I again decided to take some emotional thoughts that decided to expand my brain to an audio level. When again I was sharing some words out loud, I ran into that boy. He somehow crossed the river and met me on the other side.
I decided to ask him about the waterfall. Because honestly, I wanted to enjoy it as well. I find that there is this silenced rule of not intruding in others space unless invited in the woods. These private areas are getting more and more rare. Especially with property laws, trespassing etc. People just want to be alone. Since he was over there, I gave him that space to do whatever souls searching he was up to.
So I asked him about it and in doing so I looked him in the eyes and realized it wasn't a boy, it was a man. A young man.
His supercillery crest protruded deeper then usual from his forehead. I had an automatic thought of how awesome it was. That maybe he was a descendent of the Neanderthals.
He then began to talk. His voice was very deep. He said ehh I don't know. The naive thoughts of this guy being unintelligent shamefully crossed my mind.
But then as we continued chatting I decided to wake up and put the pieces together. This young man was emancipated. The heat was effecting his speech. He was disorientated, possibly dehydrated. His arms were boney, clothes baggy.
He didn't want anything. We didn't talk about if he was homeless. He stated that he traveled a lot he is used to it.
Realizing I had veggies in my car I asked if he's eaten in a while he said: No.
Side Note:A thing that has been bothering me about this project is the effort I am putting into not pointing out the askers are homeless. Better yet, not talking about it. To talk tot he people as if they are well: just people. They are. Maybe they could use a friend, maybe it be nice to talk about the city the world, that bird over there.
I keep running into the script subtypes that don't appreciate it. They don't appreciate I sacrificed my lunch for them, they don't appreciate anything. Not even if you give.
Damn expectations. (Do I need a hug or something?)
A homeless profit told me that people rarely try to engage with those living on the streets. They give them money , donate, then move on. I think that is very valuable information.
Those who really want and need help are those who aren't comfortable in their current circumstances. They don't wan to focus on that, they don't want pity. They don't ask for help, they are embarrassed but appreciative of the time you share which sounds disgusting.
Like if I had more time for someone who just so happened to have a home.
That's what it is really.
A person, a breathing, living, present person who doesn't have a home. They are homeless.
Dictionary.com
1.
without a home:
a homeless child.
2.
the homeless, persons who lack permanent housing.
This is what it has been distorted into
Urban Dictionary
When one has exhausted all resources and is reduced to the insane condition of toting a small travel bag, aimlessly riding buses, selling plasma, nodding-out in public libraries, standing in welfare lines, eating in soup kitchens, walking in a dream, sleeping in shelters and parks, worrying about the next fix, and knowing that going to jail is a step up on the social ladder.
Dude, maybe he's homeless because he's mental, can't care for himself, and nobody cares.
What I am trying to say is that I got one of those real situations. He was in a rough spot, he was severely depressed. I don't know what he was going through, the answers to the questions usually resulted in I don't know.
As we were walking to my car there was a chair. A beautiful victorian influenced chair, with a shabby chic flare sitting in the woods. It was rained on, getting destroyed.
I made a comment about how weird it was. I thought it was lovely in a way. I have noticed water bottles full of urine. I knew there were some people living in these woods.To imagine people in a rough situation in a chair as so-was so fairy tale. It was normalcy in known disparity.
The statement that has been nawing in the far off soft edges of my lobes that he conveyed was, "Are you afraid of it?"
I was completely not prepared by such a simple question. It's funny how one statement can completely change the view or level of a conversation.The world between us just did a shift.
It was an honest simple question I just couldn't make sense of. It was, it was...
Pure.
I told him the answer to the concept I originally explained. That it was a beautiful artifact in the raw forest. Honestly , I still don't know if I understand the question.
Was he asking if I was afraid of how it got there? The shape it was in? Who put it there?
Ive been completely on edge with the eerie questions I have been getting from strangers. Questions I feel that are invading my privacy. Going back to an original sender. An unwelcome in a change of kept mysteries I intend to continue. Sometimes it's hard for me to accept natural curiosity.
I have had my privacy so mutilated, abused, ignored that I ignored it. Living that feeling of remorse once the words came out.
But as we walked to the cars I gave hime the veggies. I didn't have closed water bottles like I thought.
I had an 8 dollar jug of distilled water in a non BPA jug though. It would be the perfect thing for traveling, refilling , without the head poisoning it.
It was one of those things I was putting off forever and did it today. I have a home though, I have semi clean running water. I should have gave it to him immediately. I don't have a lot of assets with my current situation on personal level, but I have a good circle. This man seemed to have himself.
I didn't give him the gallon.
He told me the park had running water and he walked over and took a drink and looked me in the eye. Part of me wanted to run and give it to him as he walked to the woods.
Part of me was looking at the hard facts of there is a big chance he cannot even carry it being so weak. As he could barely climb steps.
Through it all , I hesitated. I know I can't help everyone-but with this heat the water situation I was disgusted.
As I pulled away though, I shut off the self mutilating thoughts and I thought of him. His suffering with depression, in this situation somehow, his body losing body fat fast, his safety.
My face began to twist as I drove away. I then as usual, got one whimper out with my hand over my face holding the rest in and carried on. I prayed for him, and for self work based on my selfish decision.
(The tales of Jesus and his no hesitation love. That religion based theory seemed to fit the bill. His automatic empathy.
I am not Jesus, but he seems like a cool dude.)
Bottom line is I started to cry, I haven't been able to. I felt empathy.
And to that John, I am thankful.
What is the difference between minimizing, facts etc.
Why are some of us so focused on ourselves when we don't even have that high of self esteem? What makes answers to questions I don't know as to I don't care.
Things I learned in that moment.
The weather was perfect for a jog
The deer probably don't want to hear you rant about your ability to think feeling but not feel it you psycho
Bikers can almost run you over in a blink of an eye
I look amazing after a run
I can never run on the trail again
Don't wear these panties with these spandex
Seeing a man push a carriage was nice for a change
Accept your intuition
Share the land
Shut up the thoughts
It's ok to be incompetent for a day it allows a sense of deserved freedom
I still have good reflexes
How to sit down
When to walk away
I really didn't care for that guy I was originally parked next to.
Having food in your car is a good idea
I am a little selfish
I look forward to having romantic partner in the future
That I wasn't hungry because I was happy
That its very easy to eat almost a half lb. of shredded coconut covered dates-oh thats why I'm not hungry.
The deers still outrun my ass
To take as needed
Mother nature gives when you don't go the connivence route
I truly want to forage
When deers eat grass it's hilarious
I don't consider myself with others when I'm in nature
The water felt good on my hands
Watching a mosquito suck my blood voluntarily was noble but probably not a good idea with whispers of malaria around the area
I got work to do
I am still growing
My heart is opening
The little things are still and always will be amazing
How to check for fresh deer prints
You don't see those scenes just in movies, you turn off the movie, get off the path and create your own blockbuster
Till next time.
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Phase 3- Sit down
There's a trillion things going on in one day, my life a beautiful random loose spiral of spectrum chaos. A lot going in my head from the last 48 hours but this isn't a rant column. A column of self reflection, learning, and theorems. I can't describe how impossible it seems to pick a subject as of now. I just know I have the need to release.
Quite honestly fight or flight is in the ring with my immune, I can't seem to shut off the hem-my aka my brain. It's been a crazy ride that I let go, as my need of suppressed agitated hormones mixed with lack of gym and paleo contributed to needing to get away from an eclectic artistic confusing bin of hot damn-ness leading this run on (more like run down) sentence to wake up in her underwear covered in chocolate from the 2 am pancake that gosh damn yes I payed extra for more chocolate chips thank you -mam'
I just butchered English grammar once more - who knew?
Honestly though , I see where this is going and I do not have the patience to write this set of theories , learnt/changed behaviors and observations.
Speaking of Gmos, food addiction, and food fetish, minimization obviously.
So I'll write an old note:
A person more successful in the lines of materialism through business is a person further from humanity.
School of trade more successful in life beyond society
Schools of trade: especially art are frowned upon on a material sense but in reality the knowledge and craft of the arts is less easily attainable of educational infringement.
Artists of free souls ar to be watched. Artists wo intend to pursue soul purpose over financial stability are those who are more inclined to rebel against brainwashing in the realm of modern society.
Ok not going into this.
I simply can't focus right now. A lot of times. There is something incredibly different- impulses or what lie behind a lot of my personal flaws. I just have this need of release that wants to claw a man or update my etsy, sew, or draw all night. I am starving myself and when I am a good girl get all my lists down I can fill his void.
One of the voids is from retaining to romance. I am completely honesty saying that that I am not one that should starve herself for even one day let alone thee amount I have. What I think I am finding the most frustrating is losing the balance between they should could want need and so on categories.
Truth is I have been starving myself from my art. Yea I got a studio, yea I go to classes etc. When I go to sessions I find myself unable to let go. I got back and fourth trying to figure out the right decision to make with my amount of time What is selfish , what is reckless, what can wait.
I like winging it but I hate escapism. Escapism can come back captured at times with not a lot to brag about and a souvenir bag of regret and guilt of what you could have done.
But yesterday I spread myself around art most of the day. My mind won't let me sit and when I sit my ass won't get out of my head in drawing groups. So yesterday as a snazzy 2 man band was bouncing energy off each other and reflecting it off the audience and everyone surrounded them-
Even if I was out drawing , oil pastels out etc at an open concert I felt very alone. Because no one was paying attention to me and I liked it. I felt alone. Theoretically no, but I wasn't shiny as all damn hell.
To have those moments to focus on your art, let your hands fill up in pigment, the tension in my muscles, organs, the huge tsunami in between my loins and the fear of not being able to just sit down and do that.
Those few moments even when I am free a few strokes, an hour sketch - my heart fills with joy I am close to tears for being so thankful to express myself. Even 5 minutes.To enjoy my art and my hardwork. Call me emotional I don't care.
I can't deny that I am still in my funk, and trying to explain -whining or I call verbally searching for a fix individually whilst sharing my issue with another probably answering a question of some sort.
I am fighting for my life to just live in some sort of freedom of the extra energy I got to put in the day to do cognitive work or certain things I have to call sacrifices just so I can get by a little more naturally.
Interdependence the big picture the big picture.
But I woke up after sleeping for three hours un medicated , didn't get back to bed but with an idea. The sun was soaking my not so hotmess-self. I felt as though I was being hugged in my unmatched undergarments by the sun himself. It tingled my body as i threw something on, went to the community toilet grabbed a free press motivational and creative energy lingering on the outer of my skin cells.
It's like I have what I want and I am about to let it sit. Now that I can do it, I can just watch myself fail again. But i don't need to learn about fancy restaurants in Toledo. I took hundreds probably more researching cooking, paleo, organization, holistic health -yea thousands to not eat out ( like I have been)
I was dead tired. I made a quick mental link to my most current break throughs of letting go. The infamous switch the soul artists modestly brag about. The left to right brain modes.
I sat my tired ass down. I wanted to go out and dance a little in the morning. That impulse you know? that last night I had a little beer a little kumbucha (not even close to enough since I got all mystic with my glass on the ground losing site of it as my head was in my notebook trying to release some more impulse emotions that I refuse to let anyone take advantage of) and didn't get that taken care of which is usual lately.
That reflection , between my breakout true self moments at the infamous anatomy instructor Jennifer's class, to other related scenarios remembering I was completely tired.
Hey I was tired, and my mind was calm-sit down do that pre drawing.
Between art classes I am working at home on Drawing on the Right side of the brain. Many of the things I have been meaning to do over the years. My long time friend and instructor can admit that I need these basic skills after all my impulse drawing spells. Very pretty work at time but fundamentally backwards and many ladies with broken bones.
Jessica's portraits Victims anonymous (JPVA)
I sat down looked at myself (which I hate drawing believe it or not) and began.
It's not to my level, but something is there. Not that smudges that my right hand got in again DAMN IT!
There was a degree of focus and a signature style to tell it was mine. You can tell a drawing is truly mine by the eyes.
If I am comfortable, and I mean completely, the eyes will hold most the emotion even though I am trying to switch that up.
But waking up from that crazy riot- waking up to my last portrait session with the group I model and sketch with this month - ending meeting a dude who used to partially own my studio , making lifesaver gummy ring fist pumps eating them shamefully sharing deep artistic notions laughing at the most stupid shit and showing a drawing I made about
Well sorry it's a ___ thing . (Number refrained for my privacy.)
That's not even the in-between of the inbetween between the tween in the be.....
Over it
Today was a good day
I didn't even have to use my MK.
Sometimes you have to fight for your gift. Sometimes it gets ripped from you, threatened, stolen. It comes in and out like a personality disorder revolving around abandonment.
You have to lose it at times, so when you get it. You never want to let it go.
I was accepting I wasn't taken chances with the excuse I want to get better before.
Oh hell yes I do, I'll be damned if anyone touches my art, sees my art with the finished studio (when it's finished) No one can buy it right now, show it in their places...
Because I am starting new. I don't create shit. If I have to take 6 months before I can start a single portion of it due to lack of skill, If I need to perform a live piece to relation to my 2d version, study the model with a whole psychiatric personality evaluations, a portfolio of the models body from every angle from every bone, pre canvases for a finished canvas travel locations, spend months studying clouds for a portion of a drawing
Your damn right I am going to. Don't tell me Im never going to finish it,
I don't create crap. You get this wisdom, you better prepare that you deliver it to the exact expectations your messengers, guides, gods whatever have waiting for you.
Images, personal inflictions mean nothing, stolen ideas mean nothing if you aren't the original carrier. With my health, my brain fogginess etc I lose things but I can't fear copying.
Because they can't hear what THEY have to say, not just I.
But if that's the case I got to practice way more to even sputter that excuse.
Today I learned, I have more control to say no to things I can work around. Thing I truly don't need. That my impulses can get fed through my true void I am trying to feed. The weirdest kids are the coolest kids, dudes acting like they are 20 when they are 50 is actually quite annoying zen or not, I have hips that like to be squeezed by strangers, asking a honest question leads to a free lamb chop, its ok to accept help, you can fit a lot of toilet paper rolls in a paper bag that will bust all over the floor in a shameful unpredicted rip,don't need a gps for everything, saying no is pretty boss, eating a box of hot mamma bread needs to stop, people usually know that I am not blowing them off it's quite obvious I'm cluttered and pulled into random situations quite quickly, that a kid I helped with the museum stand totally used my creative skills he could play with his fellow lil bros as I used my anatomy skills for his pirate ship that should actually be mine and healthier since we did all the work, that I can wear a short dress without falling on my face, that running water from a vagina sculpture doesn't make you have to pee despite the common rumor, that avant garde isn't pronunced Ah-vant Gaa-deh even if it sounds better , that you superior has really good taste in men cause that guy she pointed out to your single self was quite indeed hott as hell, brown pancakes aren't always burnt they are just filled with chocolate chips, when you thought you dropped a dollar while getting a beer at the after party it really did fall and it was 10 dollars, fashion changes are still cool if not a celebrity, that us family center employees are of of a kind and will never be poster peeps for the model employers, listening to my gut is awesome ,listening to my anxiety is not, i love 50s music but not last night after stripped off my tea party dress put on one of my only pair of jeans ,let my hair run wild from my high pony with a big bow, while slathering my lips with dark burgundy lipstick mixed with a sultry red and a very tight fitting vintage tank with my pointy badass Jimmy Choos and my man eater face even though I wanted to punch that schmuck in the face I can't do the mash potato when I want to shake rattle and roll, I really should write more poetry and that I liked doing open mike completely on a whim because some lady didn't show and well etc
I am so glad I carry that damn sketch book with me everywhere I go, or a damn piece of paper. I just feel more understood, it's who I am I can't change it.
I'm an artist ,and i'll do whatever it takes to do this because I know the web to the big picture. We all know I won't be in Toledo forever.
To think that paragraph is like 1 1000 of a typical day in the public.
My way to deliver, enlighten what ever I do with creative expression. I can't starve myself even if it's completely erotic art, it's got to be art in some form- I got to get it out.
I refuse to eat disgusting lardy ass pancakes, sour cream, non organic poision just because I need some ....
Stress release and some heart filler (love)
No doubt.
This is a chaotic post, but with much lessons and some teaching if you can get past the thought tornados- maybe I helped in some shape or form.
To calm grounds ahead.
Quite honestly fight or flight is in the ring with my immune, I can't seem to shut off the hem-my aka my brain. It's been a crazy ride that I let go, as my need of suppressed agitated hormones mixed with lack of gym and paleo contributed to needing to get away from an eclectic artistic confusing bin of hot damn-ness leading this run on (more like run down) sentence to wake up in her underwear covered in chocolate from the 2 am pancake that gosh damn yes I payed extra for more chocolate chips thank you -mam'
I just butchered English grammar once more - who knew?
Honestly though , I see where this is going and I do not have the patience to write this set of theories , learnt/changed behaviors and observations.
Speaking of Gmos, food addiction, and food fetish, minimization obviously.
So I'll write an old note:
A person more successful in the lines of materialism through business is a person further from humanity.
School of trade more successful in life beyond society
Schools of trade: especially art are frowned upon on a material sense but in reality the knowledge and craft of the arts is less easily attainable of educational infringement.
Artists of free souls ar to be watched. Artists wo intend to pursue soul purpose over financial stability are those who are more inclined to rebel against brainwashing in the realm of modern society.
Ok not going into this.
I simply can't focus right now. A lot of times. There is something incredibly different- impulses or what lie behind a lot of my personal flaws. I just have this need of release that wants to claw a man or update my etsy, sew, or draw all night. I am starving myself and when I am a good girl get all my lists down I can fill his void.
One of the voids is from retaining to romance. I am completely honesty saying that that I am not one that should starve herself for even one day let alone thee amount I have. What I think I am finding the most frustrating is losing the balance between they should could want need and so on categories.
Truth is I have been starving myself from my art. Yea I got a studio, yea I go to classes etc. When I go to sessions I find myself unable to let go. I got back and fourth trying to figure out the right decision to make with my amount of time What is selfish , what is reckless, what can wait.
I like winging it but I hate escapism. Escapism can come back captured at times with not a lot to brag about and a souvenir bag of regret and guilt of what you could have done.
But yesterday I spread myself around art most of the day. My mind won't let me sit and when I sit my ass won't get out of my head in drawing groups. So yesterday as a snazzy 2 man band was bouncing energy off each other and reflecting it off the audience and everyone surrounded them-
Even if I was out drawing , oil pastels out etc at an open concert I felt very alone. Because no one was paying attention to me and I liked it. I felt alone. Theoretically no, but I wasn't shiny as all damn hell.
To have those moments to focus on your art, let your hands fill up in pigment, the tension in my muscles, organs, the huge tsunami in between my loins and the fear of not being able to just sit down and do that.
Those few moments even when I am free a few strokes, an hour sketch - my heart fills with joy I am close to tears for being so thankful to express myself. Even 5 minutes.To enjoy my art and my hardwork. Call me emotional I don't care.
I can't deny that I am still in my funk, and trying to explain -whining or I call verbally searching for a fix individually whilst sharing my issue with another probably answering a question of some sort.
I am fighting for my life to just live in some sort of freedom of the extra energy I got to put in the day to do cognitive work or certain things I have to call sacrifices just so I can get by a little more naturally.
Interdependence the big picture the big picture.
But I woke up after sleeping for three hours un medicated , didn't get back to bed but with an idea. The sun was soaking my not so hotmess-self. I felt as though I was being hugged in my unmatched undergarments by the sun himself. It tingled my body as i threw something on, went to the community toilet grabbed a free press motivational and creative energy lingering on the outer of my skin cells.
It's like I have what I want and I am about to let it sit. Now that I can do it, I can just watch myself fail again. But i don't need to learn about fancy restaurants in Toledo. I took hundreds probably more researching cooking, paleo, organization, holistic health -yea thousands to not eat out ( like I have been)
I was dead tired. I made a quick mental link to my most current break throughs of letting go. The infamous switch the soul artists modestly brag about. The left to right brain modes.
I sat my tired ass down. I wanted to go out and dance a little in the morning. That impulse you know? that last night I had a little beer a little kumbucha (not even close to enough since I got all mystic with my glass on the ground losing site of it as my head was in my notebook trying to release some more impulse emotions that I refuse to let anyone take advantage of) and didn't get that taken care of which is usual lately.
That reflection , between my breakout true self moments at the infamous anatomy instructor Jennifer's class, to other related scenarios remembering I was completely tired.
Hey I was tired, and my mind was calm-sit down do that pre drawing.
Between art classes I am working at home on Drawing on the Right side of the brain. Many of the things I have been meaning to do over the years. My long time friend and instructor can admit that I need these basic skills after all my impulse drawing spells. Very pretty work at time but fundamentally backwards and many ladies with broken bones.
Jessica's portraits Victims anonymous (JPVA)
I sat down looked at myself (which I hate drawing believe it or not) and began.
It's not to my level, but something is there. Not that smudges that my right hand got in again DAMN IT!
There was a degree of focus and a signature style to tell it was mine. You can tell a drawing is truly mine by the eyes.
If I am comfortable, and I mean completely, the eyes will hold most the emotion even though I am trying to switch that up.
But waking up from that crazy riot- waking up to my last portrait session with the group I model and sketch with this month - ending meeting a dude who used to partially own my studio , making lifesaver gummy ring fist pumps eating them shamefully sharing deep artistic notions laughing at the most stupid shit and showing a drawing I made about
Well sorry it's a ___ thing . (Number refrained for my privacy.)
That's not even the in-between of the inbetween between the tween in the be.....
Over it
Today was a good day
I didn't even have to use my MK.
Sometimes you have to fight for your gift. Sometimes it gets ripped from you, threatened, stolen. It comes in and out like a personality disorder revolving around abandonment.
You have to lose it at times, so when you get it. You never want to let it go.
I was accepting I wasn't taken chances with the excuse I want to get better before.
Oh hell yes I do, I'll be damned if anyone touches my art, sees my art with the finished studio (when it's finished) No one can buy it right now, show it in their places...
Because I am starting new. I don't create shit. If I have to take 6 months before I can start a single portion of it due to lack of skill, If I need to perform a live piece to relation to my 2d version, study the model with a whole psychiatric personality evaluations, a portfolio of the models body from every angle from every bone, pre canvases for a finished canvas travel locations, spend months studying clouds for a portion of a drawing
Your damn right I am going to. Don't tell me Im never going to finish it,
I don't create crap. You get this wisdom, you better prepare that you deliver it to the exact expectations your messengers, guides, gods whatever have waiting for you.
Images, personal inflictions mean nothing, stolen ideas mean nothing if you aren't the original carrier. With my health, my brain fogginess etc I lose things but I can't fear copying.
Because they can't hear what THEY have to say, not just I.
But if that's the case I got to practice way more to even sputter that excuse.
Today I learned, I have more control to say no to things I can work around. Thing I truly don't need. That my impulses can get fed through my true void I am trying to feed. The weirdest kids are the coolest kids, dudes acting like they are 20 when they are 50 is actually quite annoying zen or not, I have hips that like to be squeezed by strangers, asking a honest question leads to a free lamb chop, its ok to accept help, you can fit a lot of toilet paper rolls in a paper bag that will bust all over the floor in a shameful unpredicted rip,don't need a gps for everything, saying no is pretty boss, eating a box of hot mamma bread needs to stop, people usually know that I am not blowing them off it's quite obvious I'm cluttered and pulled into random situations quite quickly, that a kid I helped with the museum stand totally used my creative skills he could play with his fellow lil bros as I used my anatomy skills for his pirate ship that should actually be mine and healthier since we did all the work, that I can wear a short dress without falling on my face, that running water from a vagina sculpture doesn't make you have to pee despite the common rumor, that avant garde isn't pronunced Ah-vant Gaa-deh even if it sounds better , that you superior has really good taste in men cause that guy she pointed out to your single self was quite indeed hott as hell, brown pancakes aren't always burnt they are just filled with chocolate chips, when you thought you dropped a dollar while getting a beer at the after party it really did fall and it was 10 dollars, fashion changes are still cool if not a celebrity, that us family center employees are of of a kind and will never be poster peeps for the model employers, listening to my gut is awesome ,listening to my anxiety is not, i love 50s music but not last night after stripped off my tea party dress put on one of my only pair of jeans ,let my hair run wild from my high pony with a big bow, while slathering my lips with dark burgundy lipstick mixed with a sultry red and a very tight fitting vintage tank with my pointy badass Jimmy Choos and my man eater face even though I wanted to punch that schmuck in the face I can't do the mash potato when I want to shake rattle and roll, I really should write more poetry and that I liked doing open mike completely on a whim because some lady didn't show and well etc
I am so glad I carry that damn sketch book with me everywhere I go, or a damn piece of paper. I just feel more understood, it's who I am I can't change it.
I'm an artist ,and i'll do whatever it takes to do this because I know the web to the big picture. We all know I won't be in Toledo forever.
To think that paragraph is like 1 1000 of a typical day in the public.
My way to deliver, enlighten what ever I do with creative expression. I can't starve myself even if it's completely erotic art, it's got to be art in some form- I got to get it out.
I refuse to eat disgusting lardy ass pancakes, sour cream, non organic poision just because I need some ....
Stress release and some heart filler (love)
No doubt.
This is a chaotic post, but with much lessons and some teaching if you can get past the thought tornados- maybe I helped in some shape or form.
To calm grounds ahead.
Friday, December 26, 2014
Phase 2 Revert-It's like you knew, I was around the corner.
Oh dear,
What a journey. What a change. It's been a miserable change. A change to take fourth and hopefully change the socially acceptable "simple" things the "normal" partake in daily assigned lives into doable regularities that my personal system doesn't comprehend.
I wanted to keep a tight knit record of reflections of the daily things I did to keep me stronger, so I could remember and be like "Ah, there is proof."
I don't even know where to start really.
I have done some social experiments (whoops). Zen has been a good friend and a worse enemy. Paleo diet, hmm- Very miserable but when successful quite impressive. Been places, been chill.
Finally got stressed to the max recently with the season also the end of November and once in October- but made it out alive.
My parents computer has been so slow , I couldn't even type on it. I have been so busy, trying to get a hold of neurotic repetitive behaviors for the first time in 26 years. How miserable it is, to teach yourself discipline whilst enabling and coddling still surrounds you.
If only I could only got all this sweet juice in my bowl , somewhere present to reflect the truth of situations.
My need for approval still exists.
Through all that, trying to organize , I am really into the environment as well. Which makes all that even harder.
I'm finding not having my art time or me time, and gym time makes me a little psycho. When you go down on doses and replace it with holistic therapies you still depend on it.
I NEED to draw, I NEED to work out, I NEED to hug that tree, dance it out, write , eat strict, drink water etc
Because I don't want to take a pill. Many pills that the doctors think I need. I take them, I have gone down on some with supervision, and I must sit down and write the info I know down.
It's funny how ways of life are just so simple, and so unrecognizable in first world situations.
Why do we give our dogs dog food, why do we eat HMOs, Why do we take pills instead of use mother earth, why are we now hallucinating after that pill and believing that we are sick? Why are we using fertilizer, how is it legal to keep these factories open with all the waste? It just goes on and on and on.
I am still growing, in battle with myself, others- but I am blossoming into the current sun from the old moon.
The world just got a whole bunch more complicating, as I attract the oddest situations. The stories though, are just so worth it.
But as the divine whispers in my ear, " I need you to love, I need you to express love, give love, feel love", where does that leave the surrealist?
Whether what methods I use, my goal will always be the same.
To spread wise knowledge learnt from the subconscious, in art form to teach damaged parts of society truths for the greater good.
Whether anyone wants to listen well,
That's their decision. Now isn't that beautiful?
What a journey. What a change. It's been a miserable change. A change to take fourth and hopefully change the socially acceptable "simple" things the "normal" partake in daily assigned lives into doable regularities that my personal system doesn't comprehend.
I wanted to keep a tight knit record of reflections of the daily things I did to keep me stronger, so I could remember and be like "Ah, there is proof."
I don't even know where to start really.
I have done some social experiments (whoops). Zen has been a good friend and a worse enemy. Paleo diet, hmm- Very miserable but when successful quite impressive. Been places, been chill.
Finally got stressed to the max recently with the season also the end of November and once in October- but made it out alive.
My parents computer has been so slow , I couldn't even type on it. I have been so busy, trying to get a hold of neurotic repetitive behaviors for the first time in 26 years. How miserable it is, to teach yourself discipline whilst enabling and coddling still surrounds you.
If only I could only got all this sweet juice in my bowl , somewhere present to reflect the truth of situations.
My need for approval still exists.
Through all that, trying to organize , I am really into the environment as well. Which makes all that even harder.
I'm finding not having my art time or me time, and gym time makes me a little psycho. When you go down on doses and replace it with holistic therapies you still depend on it.
I NEED to draw, I NEED to work out, I NEED to hug that tree, dance it out, write , eat strict, drink water etc
Because I don't want to take a pill. Many pills that the doctors think I need. I take them, I have gone down on some with supervision, and I must sit down and write the info I know down.
It's funny how ways of life are just so simple, and so unrecognizable in first world situations.
Why do we give our dogs dog food, why do we eat HMOs, Why do we take pills instead of use mother earth, why are we now hallucinating after that pill and believing that we are sick? Why are we using fertilizer, how is it legal to keep these factories open with all the waste? It just goes on and on and on.
I am still growing, in battle with myself, others- but I am blossoming into the current sun from the old moon.
The world just got a whole bunch more complicating, as I attract the oddest situations. The stories though, are just so worth it.
But as the divine whispers in my ear, " I need you to love, I need you to express love, give love, feel love", where does that leave the surrealist?
Whether what methods I use, my goal will always be the same.
To spread wise knowledge learnt from the subconscious, in art form to teach damaged parts of society truths for the greater good.
Whether anyone wants to listen well,
That's their decision. Now isn't that beautiful?
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