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.
Saturday, October 17, 2015
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.
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