Emo Wall o' Text. Just fair warning.
So I've given up knitting during lunches. Not that I've suddenly lost my ability to knit or anything, I've just really wanted to draw lately, and it honestly is the only time I'm able to.
So I've started trying again, and so far it's a lot like banging my head into a brick wall on the off chance that the next time I slam my head into it the wall will magically become fluffy pillows.
So far it's still a brick wall.
I'm almost convinced that if I suddenly started drawing with my toes I'd produce better art than the shit I'm trying to do right now. It's like I'm a sponge and someone has picked me up and wrung every bit of life out of me and then left me to flop there, still kinda moist and helpless. I haven't had this long of a bad streak since I did a critical fumble on my wrist and lost 1d8 drawing levels. And my wrist is fine. So this all really can be only mental.
Part of it is that I'm doing the comparison thing. I'm nowhere near where I want to be, and I'm trying to do heavy realism based stuff and that is just working about as well as duck trying to swim when he lacks feet.* I get it. None of that helps, but neither does recognizing it really. I'm not where I want to be artistically. Well, then how do you get there? I don't know. That's the problem. It's just about every conversation I had with Oz during the 4 years I dated him. It really is no wonder why he left, I mean jesus christ, I'd want to hang myself after repeating the same things over and over.
What kinds hurts though is that I thought I was past that. Not past it as in I've reached where I wanted to be and there's no need for improvement. But I wasn't so goddamn emo, burn-the-sketchbook-and-slash-my-wrists about it. But nope, I went backwards and am back in the same state of mind I was mid-college and annoying as fuck.
Wonderful.
The other part is the whole "but...I'm an artist! Honest!" thing. I feel like a little kid when someone asks them what they want to be when they grow up, or a teenager desperately clinging to a label. And I know it's stupid, and I hate myself for even doing it, but goddamn it I'm an artist! Right?
My family is so happy I'm "going to be a CPA." First off I want to scream out that I've taken 4 classes so far and I don't know if I'm going to go in that direction at all afterwards. I don't know if I want to. I didn't make this job change because OMG I wanted to be an accountant all my life and just didn't know it. I made the switch because I'd have been stupid not to and I like trying new things. I know they only want the best for me and are ecstatic that I might be an accountant and have job opportunities instead of living off of rats under the bridge. Which makes sense.
But goddamn it, I still want to be an artist with all of my heart. Not a "hobbyist."* I want to make a living doing what I love. I still have that absolutely stupid thing that I promised myself in that one painting class; that I was going to do it. That I wasn't going to give up.
Whenever I hear someone say "go for your dreams" I want to throw up now. I've given myself yet another trigger that makes me cringe and want to hide in a hole and punch myself repeatedly in the face. And I know I sound like a whiny bitch throwing a temper-tantrum, and I am, but goddamn it I need to kick and flail about on the floor for a while. I could be so much worse off, I know that, and there are so many worse things than this in the world.
Doesn't make it hurt any less.
That said, I'm going to go to class and draw more Loki and his do-you-seriously-have-a-different-version-in-every-scene outfit. Because I'm an artist, right?
* Metaphors are fun today.
** It kills me we have to state that on DA now. Sure I could lie, but until I have something published I can't say I'm a professional. It kills me.
So I've started trying again, and so far it's a lot like banging my head into a brick wall on the off chance that the next time I slam my head into it the wall will magically become fluffy pillows.
So far it's still a brick wall.
I'm almost convinced that if I suddenly started drawing with my toes I'd produce better art than the shit I'm trying to do right now. It's like I'm a sponge and someone has picked me up and wrung every bit of life out of me and then left me to flop there, still kinda moist and helpless. I haven't had this long of a bad streak since I did a critical fumble on my wrist and lost 1d8 drawing levels. And my wrist is fine. So this all really can be only mental.
Part of it is that I'm doing the comparison thing. I'm nowhere near where I want to be, and I'm trying to do heavy realism based stuff and that is just working about as well as duck trying to swim when he lacks feet.* I get it. None of that helps, but neither does recognizing it really. I'm not where I want to be artistically. Well, then how do you get there? I don't know. That's the problem. It's just about every conversation I had with Oz during the 4 years I dated him. It really is no wonder why he left, I mean jesus christ, I'd want to hang myself after repeating the same things over and over.
What kinds hurts though is that I thought I was past that. Not past it as in I've reached where I wanted to be and there's no need for improvement. But I wasn't so goddamn emo, burn-the-sketchbook-and-slash-my-wrists about it. But nope, I went backwards and am back in the same state of mind I was mid-college and annoying as fuck.
Wonderful.
The other part is the whole "but...I'm an artist! Honest!" thing. I feel like a little kid when someone asks them what they want to be when they grow up, or a teenager desperately clinging to a label. And I know it's stupid, and I hate myself for even doing it, but goddamn it I'm an artist! Right?
My family is so happy I'm "going to be a CPA." First off I want to scream out that I've taken 4 classes so far and I don't know if I'm going to go in that direction at all afterwards. I don't know if I want to. I didn't make this job change because OMG I wanted to be an accountant all my life and just didn't know it. I made the switch because I'd have been stupid not to and I like trying new things. I know they only want the best for me and are ecstatic that I might be an accountant and have job opportunities instead of living off of rats under the bridge. Which makes sense.
But goddamn it, I still want to be an artist with all of my heart. Not a "hobbyist."* I want to make a living doing what I love. I still have that absolutely stupid thing that I promised myself in that one painting class; that I was going to do it. That I wasn't going to give up.
Whenever I hear someone say "go for your dreams" I want to throw up now. I've given myself yet another trigger that makes me cringe and want to hide in a hole and punch myself repeatedly in the face. And I know I sound like a whiny bitch throwing a temper-tantrum, and I am, but goddamn it I need to kick and flail about on the floor for a while. I could be so much worse off, I know that, and there are so many worse things than this in the world.
Doesn't make it hurt any less.
That said, I'm going to go to class and draw more Loki and his do-you-seriously-have-a-different-version-in-every-scene outfit. Because I'm an artist, right?
* Metaphors are fun today.
** It kills me we have to state that on DA now. Sure I could lie, but until I have something published I can't say I'm a professional. It kills me.