(no subject)
Gag, grunt, gerr, arg.
Been a long time since a post.
I’ve been pretty good about juggling stress and activities. Especially with emotionally biased stress. I have a tendency to place logic ahead of emotion and think of things from other points of view, and the encompassing of human emotion.
I don’t know why, maybe it’s my extreme tendency to avoid drama (as drama is my rage-inducing Kryptonite) or my unique brand of self-imposed spirituality, but more often then not, I look on my life and the actions around it as a sort of detached play. I can some times go months without feeling involved in my own life. Just watching it, waiting for the next “thing” and I have no idea what that thing is.
Also, once a year, every year, I get so detached that my art looks like crap, and I can’t draw. Or at least, I can’t draw anything I like. I should be a better artist, with the length of time I have been doing it- but I think I have more determination then talent, more training then skill. At times like this, I feel pulled so thin that every pencil stroke feels forced a phony. Gha….
My family has been sick a lot.. (Just read gotherbells blog for more info on that) and I have been trying to juggle Andi being watched (Ie: not letting my poor mom try and take care of her) with working at a very small store that also needs me. Not to mention Andi’s freak out that lasted a bit longer then an hour last Thursday. I got Andi a doctor’s appointment (after being hung up on 3 times and transferred to two voice mails at Florida hospital) and was late to work. Andi screaming that she didn’t want me to go the whole time. My viewpoint as a voyeur in my own life was gone.
(I have realized that Hummer and detachment are the tools I use to deal with things. The detachment coming from the realization that one-day I will be dead, and something else is out there. Bodies are temporary. The hummer comes from that fact that no matter how hard I try, or how much I can think I’m an individual, at this point in the history of man- it’s all been done, or happened to some one before. History is the “play all, repeat” setting of life.)
This self enlightenment, though fleeting, come from the crack in my emotional armor that finally caught up with me when I got to work late on Thursday. I tried to let Penny know what was going on- why I was late, and everything behind it, but I just choked. I went to the back to try to stop crying before I started. I can definitely say that I have not done that in years (Ok, I cried at my Aunts funeral, but out side of funerals, I haven’t cried for more then eight years before that)
Now. I know this will sound way to macho, and I don’t have words or description to explain it, but crying is something I cannot abide from my self. It shows weakness and self-involvement more then I accept from my self. Self-loathing soon too follow, and I don’t have time for that sort of shenanigans. It’s unhelpful and accomplishes nothing. To sum up- boy’s don’t cry.
Any way.. I was falling apart- I talked with Tory (my boss) and felt a little better. My mom has been on the mend, and Julie and I got to visit my grandmother Sunday. To top it off, Andi was an Angel and I’m mostly over my own illness (I still have a stuffy nose)
So things are getting better, and I feel like I’m waking up again, part of my own life. I plan on spending quality time with Julie tonight, I get to spend the day with Andi, and Eva is taking us to the park later (getting out of the house on your of days- some thing I almost never do anymore- helps make me feel part of my life again.) But I’m still fighting the art. I sort of like the stuff I’m coming up with for White wolf, sort of. The other stuff.. the companies I normally work for, and am still waiting for checks from, that’s the problem. I’m looking at my “carrier” saying.. sheshh.. All this time I pull from my life to pound into pages for a company, you think that I would get paid what I’m owed with some sort of regularity. Its frustrating and nerve racking. After four years and more then 100 books, I think I might need to re-evaluate the art.
Maybe this comes from the previous life stuff.. or Thursdays “cracking” drama (uhgg) but maybe the self criticism of the art has led me to see that I have been fooling my self with an art carrier. Or that I’m going about it wrong. Maybe I’m just still stretched a little thin at the moment. If I can shake this feeling of worthlessness, maybe I can get back to the art- and it will be better, more creative.
Maybe I need to write for a while, I have ideas.
If I ever did my own comic, I could write it, but not draw it. If I drew it, I would never be happy. Gha….
My head is tumbly at the moment. I just want to get it screwed on strait. This is the shit I never mention- to any one. I figured writing it out would get me to understand it. And posting it, the embarrassment would help me get over it faster.
If none of this makes sence, that’s because it’s a rambling stream of emotion. Not my normal me. Right now, Im an emotional milkshake of headstuff. I hate that.
If I could get it out on paper, I would feel a lot better.
I think this odd period of mindjunk has something to do with spawing my nightmare last night. I dreamt that people were trying to take Andi away from me. I was trying to get her back, It was terrifying and hart wrenching. I have been squeezing Andi every chance I get today. She must be wondering what’s up with daddy, lol.
If I could just draw good, I could get all this out. Drawing is headstuff shit. My escapist drug of choice. My God I’m an odd little man.
Andi is down for a nap.. I think I’m gonna try sketching now. See If I can get the mental weight off my forehead (that pressure of “stupidity” that pushes down on it) and get this silly burden of “whatever” off my soul. UGHGHHHhhhh…
Draw now.
Been a long time since a post.
I’ve been pretty good about juggling stress and activities. Especially with emotionally biased stress. I have a tendency to place logic ahead of emotion and think of things from other points of view, and the encompassing of human emotion.
I don’t know why, maybe it’s my extreme tendency to avoid drama (as drama is my rage-inducing Kryptonite) or my unique brand of self-imposed spirituality, but more often then not, I look on my life and the actions around it as a sort of detached play. I can some times go months without feeling involved in my own life. Just watching it, waiting for the next “thing” and I have no idea what that thing is.
Also, once a year, every year, I get so detached that my art looks like crap, and I can’t draw. Or at least, I can’t draw anything I like. I should be a better artist, with the length of time I have been doing it- but I think I have more determination then talent, more training then skill. At times like this, I feel pulled so thin that every pencil stroke feels forced a phony. Gha….
My family has been sick a lot.. (Just read gotherbells blog for more info on that) and I have been trying to juggle Andi being watched (Ie: not letting my poor mom try and take care of her) with working at a very small store that also needs me. Not to mention Andi’s freak out that lasted a bit longer then an hour last Thursday. I got Andi a doctor’s appointment (after being hung up on 3 times and transferred to two voice mails at Florida hospital) and was late to work. Andi screaming that she didn’t want me to go the whole time. My viewpoint as a voyeur in my own life was gone.
(I have realized that Hummer and detachment are the tools I use to deal with things. The detachment coming from the realization that one-day I will be dead, and something else is out there. Bodies are temporary. The hummer comes from that fact that no matter how hard I try, or how much I can think I’m an individual, at this point in the history of man- it’s all been done, or happened to some one before. History is the “play all, repeat” setting of life.)
This self enlightenment, though fleeting, come from the crack in my emotional armor that finally caught up with me when I got to work late on Thursday. I tried to let Penny know what was going on- why I was late, and everything behind it, but I just choked. I went to the back to try to stop crying before I started. I can definitely say that I have not done that in years (Ok, I cried at my Aunts funeral, but out side of funerals, I haven’t cried for more then eight years before that)
Now. I know this will sound way to macho, and I don’t have words or description to explain it, but crying is something I cannot abide from my self. It shows weakness and self-involvement more then I accept from my self. Self-loathing soon too follow, and I don’t have time for that sort of shenanigans. It’s unhelpful and accomplishes nothing. To sum up- boy’s don’t cry.
Any way.. I was falling apart- I talked with Tory (my boss) and felt a little better. My mom has been on the mend, and Julie and I got to visit my grandmother Sunday. To top it off, Andi was an Angel and I’m mostly over my own illness (I still have a stuffy nose)
So things are getting better, and I feel like I’m waking up again, part of my own life. I plan on spending quality time with Julie tonight, I get to spend the day with Andi, and Eva is taking us to the park later (getting out of the house on your of days- some thing I almost never do anymore- helps make me feel part of my life again.) But I’m still fighting the art. I sort of like the stuff I’m coming up with for White wolf, sort of. The other stuff.. the companies I normally work for, and am still waiting for checks from, that’s the problem. I’m looking at my “carrier” saying.. sheshh.. All this time I pull from my life to pound into pages for a company, you think that I would get paid what I’m owed with some sort of regularity. Its frustrating and nerve racking. After four years and more then 100 books, I think I might need to re-evaluate the art.
Maybe this comes from the previous life stuff.. or Thursdays “cracking” drama (uhgg) but maybe the self criticism of the art has led me to see that I have been fooling my self with an art carrier. Or that I’m going about it wrong. Maybe I’m just still stretched a little thin at the moment. If I can shake this feeling of worthlessness, maybe I can get back to the art- and it will be better, more creative.
Maybe I need to write for a while, I have ideas.
If I ever did my own comic, I could write it, but not draw it. If I drew it, I would never be happy. Gha….
My head is tumbly at the moment. I just want to get it screwed on strait. This is the shit I never mention- to any one. I figured writing it out would get me to understand it. And posting it, the embarrassment would help me get over it faster.
If none of this makes sence, that’s because it’s a rambling stream of emotion. Not my normal me. Right now, Im an emotional milkshake of headstuff. I hate that.
If I could get it out on paper, I would feel a lot better.
I think this odd period of mindjunk has something to do with spawing my nightmare last night. I dreamt that people were trying to take Andi away from me. I was trying to get her back, It was terrifying and hart wrenching. I have been squeezing Andi every chance I get today. She must be wondering what’s up with daddy, lol.
If I could just draw good, I could get all this out. Drawing is headstuff shit. My escapist drug of choice. My God I’m an odd little man.
Andi is down for a nap.. I think I’m gonna try sketching now. See If I can get the mental weight off my forehead (that pressure of “stupidity” that pushes down on it) and get this silly burden of “whatever” off my soul. UGHGHHHhhhh…
Draw now.