#something

And so I return after a long time away.

But not really away, just so you know.

I'm exhausted and delirious and on the verge of a nervous breakdown because... I'm not sure why.

Here are the elements:
I decided to curate my first group show at the gallery that I work at. Herding artists is the worst job in the world and this is why I will never run my own gallery and - possibly - ever curate again. Today was the "hanging", which means that a good eight people did not show up with work, while ten people earned their gold stars or red wings or something by actually showing up with a piece.
My own piece for the show is unfinished and I'm not sure that I like where it is going. Part of the problem being that I'm only viewing it under a terrible yellow incandescent bulb and I might not be seeing the colors properly. I have until Saturday morning to get it together, on top of getting this show in order.
I have yet to gather all the artists' bios and art information. Hell, a few artists I don't even know what size they're working in or what their pieces look like.
With this show, I'm so nervous about people judging the work poorly and in turn, judging me poorly. This includes people whose opinions I care about and those whom I do not. I want to be the arrogant artist type who thinks that everything I do is a chunk of gold instead of possibly a lump of shit. But really, it's not me.
Working on this has seriously strained my relationship and that makes me intensely depressed. Because I like my relationship and I don't like questioning its stability during a rough spot.

So it all comes down to that I'm doing a lot of work right now and getting sloppy, I'm annoyed at having to sit around in an empty gallery for hours on end freaking out about how this show is going to go when I could be working on my own artwork and I care too much about the opinions of other people when really, I should only care about my own.

I tattooed the word "narcissist" on my head for a reason. I should really check myself.

So, yea, stressed without the sleep I need. Exhausted from a long day. Cranky because of other people. Wanting to work but unable to move my legs. I need to stand to paint.

And I really wish that I hadn't been too depressed to ask my boyfriend to make me dinner because I could really use the hamburger he offered to cook me.

I bring this on myself.

Sometimes I wonder about being a visual artist.

It's one of those things, where, unless you're viewing it, you'll never take anything away from it. It cannot be described to others to have any sort of impact. It must be seen and taken in. And this is entirely frustrating, to place upon myself the duty of changing the whole goddamn world and fix all its wrongs with just a single image. As if that can actually be done!

You see the artists of this world, of all mediums, struggle and try for change, and hit this road block that is memory.

People in this world will retain the memory of gossip or a split-second celebrity for longer than they will a powerful image or line of text.

All I want to do is reach down inside of you and tear you open until you can feel the pain of everything that you do and force you to change yourself so that you never have to feel that again. And by change, I mean that you should stop it.

And by change, they just build bigger scar tissues and burrow down deeper into their holes of de-lumination. Because apparently it is too much to ask that you treat others kindly and think of the world as a whole that you do in fact have an impact upon.

Because, as I am studying religious texts and imagery from the centuries, not a one of it has done any good. There are not many who act as their scriptures tell them to, which has always been of kindness and peace.

What are we doing wrong? What needs to be done to change you into being humans instead of monsterous beasts that consume and destroy and spread a vile sickness?

It is the riddle in my life that has no answer.

.37.

I don't know why I struggle so hard against success.

But every time I'm supposed to push myself to create something that might earn me money, or a spot in a group show, or anything that might actually help advance my career I just suddenly freeze up. I get headaches and feel sick. I don't want to do it. It's boring me and I'm done with it before I even completed the task.

Right now, I want to apply for a keyholder position at a silkscreening studio. What it entails is that I get 24-hour access for free for an entire year. I'll have to bring my own supplies, but I'll have use of their machines and presses, which is all I really need. And I won't be spending $250/month as is the usual fee.

But it requires a resume, which I did write up, and a letter of intent. That's what really gets me. All I want to do is continue pursuing my love of naked ladies and twisted chimeras. And combine that into one lovely image. But I don't think that anyone will care for what I'm doing. Nor will it be "intelligent" enough or have enough "depth" to it the way I think that all fine artists think. It's silly of me and maybe reveals the self-conscious little girl inside of me, but I really don't think anyone views me as intelligent. Witty and clever, yes. But I'm not a "thinker;" a philosopher.

So I really need to write this up and sound intelligent enough to be given this and the whole thing just makes me want to hide under the covers. But it's something that I really and truly want. So I should probably get on that before September is already here. Provided I can stop hyperventilating long enough to compose something.

.36.

I'm sitting here, Monday morning, nearly frozen with fear of having to go into work.

Now because I screwed up and am afraid of my job, but simply because it's something that I don't want to do. I can't stand the nerve-grinding work of sitting in front of a computer for an hour while my boss talks on the phone, wondering if I'll get a chance to work on the bookkeeping like I'm supposed to today or if I'll be sent off on some other mundane task that our other girl can do, except he never calls her in for whatever reason.

I just don't want to be in there for 8 hours, hating being there when I could be doing something better.

Perhaps if I had saved up my money I could take off for a few months, though really, I think I'm afraid that I'll never leave this place.

I'm being groomed to take the whole thing over. Given incentives to remain there (money) and learn how to run it. And I'm letting myself give in to this. Making myself more available, more helpful. If I was a rotten employee I'd be traded in for the next shiny thing that knows how to use the internet and can actually talk to people. And doesn't have visible tattoos and a mohawk.

But instead I'm a valuable resource. An honest person who knows how to do business and work the internet and fix computers and whatever I don't know I can hire someone for a few hours a day to do for me.

All I want to do is be an artist. I just want to sit at home and hustle up some assignments then work on them all day and night. I want someone to save me from this life I fought so hard to get away from but that drags me deeper and deeper into it everyday.

Other people say I shouldn't complain about having "job security."

They don't know what it's like to have fulfillment in their life that doesn't have a direct relationship with their wallets.

I want to work to get out of here. I can't do this anymore. And I'm afraid that the next time I write in here, I won't have moved an inch.

.35.

Do you ever get the feeling that really terrible music is like brainwashing?

As if, by listening to something it is the equivalent of eating packing peanuts (a possibility that won't end in stomach pumpings or death, surprisingly) for your brain.

What I mean is, you're killing your ability to think during it. You aren't learning anything new and all that you are doing is drowning any original thought you could possibly have by an endless loop of terrible lyrics. Your thinking is being done for you. All you have to do is keep those headphones on and choose to listen to this.

I worry some days about the thoughts I fill my head with as I stroll down the street. I am a big fan of some Really Terrible Music, although like any and every New Yorker, if you speak to me I will be a really Big Music Snob.

But the thing is, I recognize my terrible music for what it is. I'd never justify it to be anything that it's not.

Now though, as I'm starting to do things like wear deodorant without aluminum in it, cleanse my face with soaps, toners and lotions that do not have cancer-causing materials, clean my house with biodegradable/earth friendly cleansers and make my mac and cheese from scratch rather than from the box - ironically, it's the one thing I picked up that costs less than its bad chemical-filled counterpart - I'm starting to wonder about the things I put into my brain.

I don't watch cable TV or reality TV, but I do have a penchant for celebrity gossip. I read blogs. Hell, I read mommy blogs - ok, just one actually - and really, I have to wonder what it's doing to me to spend so much time involved in so much... mental packing peanuts.

So I'm attempting to stay away from my vices like Gizmodo/Kotaku, Myspace/Facebook/IAM and really terrible music as a sort of fast. I won't be happy until I go 7 days without.

I have yet to make it one full day that didn't involve drinking myself into oblivion.

We have a lot to work on here.

.34.

This post has been retired to a lost portion of the internet.

Carry on.

.33.

So I worked at the NYC Comic Con today.

An artist in the booth next to me said: "When your back-up job takes up all of your time and energy, it becomes your career."

and

"You're only as good as the last thing you've done."

The last thing I've done? Worked for a company that earns me enough money to live, but not to save up. And spent all my time since GenCon drinking and partying. I feel like I'm not an artist, but just someone who should get used to having a day job and to just stop pretending.

I am being a little hard on myself.

I got around to printing up my t-shirt designs. And sales for that have gone alright. I haven't made back the money I put into it, nor have I received new orders since the $12 sale, but at least I sold a few. I did a lot of graphic design projects for cash. And I have a couple things lined up, as well as dropped other projects that would've steered me the wrong way.
I'm on a week of sobriety due to a combo sinus/urinary tract infection that requires some hardcore antibiotics. But I'm really afraid of lapsing. Especially since my friends ALWAYS find a reason to party. And I feel terrible ditching them. There's this huge fear that if I'm not always around, then I'll be forgotten and replaced. Which isn't something that should bother me, but it does.

So I guess the big dilemma that has always been around, that I've always been hiding from with more and more alcohol, is starting to show itself again now that the haze has dissipated. I just wish I could get some support in this. But all my local friends drink. My boyfriend drinks. And they all just bring it around me and guilt me for not partying with them. It sucks. And what's worse, is that now that I'm motivated, I haven't the time to work on what I want. I'll be busy until March 10th. It's not even March yet!

Well, with any luck, I'll figure out this balance.

I know that I've been slacking off. It even shows in the work that I'm proud of having created before. I know that I can be so much better if I just put forth the effort. And I'll have to decide if I'm willing to do that for my future career. Because if not, then I may as well give away my art supplies and dismantle the website. If this isn't done one-hundred percent, it shouldn't be done at all...