I’m prone to bouts of anger, short tempered, the overly sensitive type. Writing is a way to make sense of it all. While art is a way in which I can escape the thoughts that haunt me shutting off conscious thought and allowing my hands to guide me.
You’re thinking over worked over tired you can’t sleep because you’re thinking. Did you speak the right words? Did you write down the right notes? A few pieces lost and you’re struggling because you’ve been taught perfection by an instructor that isn’t nor are you and you’re fighting. You’re screaming internally because these human traits are killing you this need to listen but also be heard this frustration this correctness this confusion over right and wrong. This complicated place created by humans you’re struggling here fighting it because you have to you were born human so you’re all of them right? All the good and the bad because individualism is lost here even if it’s proclaimed as strength it isn’t valued. You’re struggling to understand told to work harder paid less and you try you do it and you’re angered debted to the scholars ten years and it’ll dissipate. You’re still struggling to determine is this right is that wrong is anyone good if someone is crying somewhere? Is anyone evil if someone is cheering somewhere? Are we judging our entire lives by opinion?
We always want to be the very best the very best wonderful and I am not and I don’t need to ne I just need to breathe even if my lungs aren’t as strong and my heart overbeats a little to fast I am just living even if it’s not at your best and my words aren’t always perfectly spoke and my thoughts aren’t always articulate like yours that’s ok with me if I’m not the most talented the most wanted the most liked of course don’t we all want to be why do we write why do we create for ourselves for others I do it for me to break up the thoughts that are long and let them out and yea of course I’d like to be liked I’d like to sell the most books and be amongst the best truthfully though I’m ok with just doing it because no matter what I’m going to die and rather than worry about being the most perfect I’d rather just enjoy it now because if I’m the best or if I’m the worst I’m going to die either way.
I’m not going to be the same tomorrow as I am today. I might feel differently about what provokes laughter in me and I might cry over something that once brought happiness because each day is different and our feelings they change they adapt. I might find words I’ve used are insensitive and at other times I may not even care if they are because I don’t always want to think about politeness and other times I’m overwhelmed and hating myself at the thought of being offensive. I might scream and lose my temper and later realize my own mistake and maybe today I won’t do right and tomorrow I might want to fix it and maybe I won’t care. Each day I feel differently because we can we can have one belief and switch it as humans with thought we are allowed to do that to be one person today and another person tomorrow. I will wear my face with each expression because I can although the reasons will change what makes me smile now may make me cry later and what sends me in a burst of laughter may send me in angst against myself overwhelmed by it all and that is ok.
When I’m in the quiet and my thoughts are left alone to think that’s when the thought of death creeps in and the idea of nothing terrifies me confuses me.
I think of nothing closing my eyes and even then I can see images my brain projects memories I’ve remembered ideas I create pictures that play I can’t understand nothing.
What is nothing?
If I’m dead and my brain can no loner think it doesn’t matter yet the thought terrifies me is it my arrogance is it survival that makes it difficult to perceive that in the universe I am nothing and my death will just be another death and my brain will no longer play will no longer think and this me will no longer be.
You live to die. You start life without account for your thoughts do we think as infants? Even if we had I don’t remember now so does it even matter? We act on instinct and our bodies grow without a thought deciding if it should it just does. Then we begin to remember fragments of events feelings we’ve had even if we can’t remember the words or the faces they came from we remember the feelings that we felt. Time happens and our bodies they age in the beginning growth goes upward and after time it begins to rewind only we don’t become younger we age our minds they rewind frozen in decades new events don’t register and we replay the past because in the near future our minds know we’re closer to hitting death. Parts of my mind repeats the thoughts why even try why even work hard why put in so much when you know your only living to die? My reply is that my life stopped being only mine the moment another life entered and as much as I try and I fail and I try and I do and I work and it feels a waste because I always feel as if nothing is enough and everything I write is trash and everything I paint is slop and everything I create isn’t worth in this place of today but I try and I try harder because if I don’t my children will only see failure and failure only happens when you’re finished.
I’ve been practicing painting recently. By practicing I mean painting with two young kids. One that uses paper and the other that just paints all over herself. Which isn’t always the most relaxing way to paint. Although in life you just use the time you have as it is. Otherwise you’ll never get anything done.
When I was a kid my father went through a sponge paint on the ceilings phase and every ceiling in my childhood home was covered in sponge paint. As a kid I would look up at all the faces staring down on me in the paint.
For the above two paintings I went with a sort of sponge paint concept. Then I added eyes to what fit.
For me painting isn’t something I try to take seriously. It’s not about a skill to firmly develop. Rather it’s about relaxing my mind and just sort of letting my hands scatter the paint about. Then at the end allowing my mind to make sense of it. I find it amazing when artists can paint a realistic face. Then the lazy part of me is always like “isn’t that what we have cameras for?” In the time before painting was necessary to capture a moment now I just use it as away to release stress.
(I am a participant in the Amazon Associates Program and any qualifying purchases made through affiliate links I may earn a commission on at no additional cost to you.) The above kits are what I use to paint with my kids.
We create guidelines as if life fits although in actuality life is like a toddlers art work scribbles upon a page in which they call a cat and you yourself smile politely at the perfectly drawn cat that to you is nothing but lines scribbled upon a once blank page life is like that because what makes sense to one person may make no sense at all to you and we’re left nodding politely to each other till we reach the stage of argument in which reason has left us and we’re screaming that’s not a fucking cat that is just marker on paper.
Thought brings out righteousness and beliefs make people believe they’re universal and their happiness is shared although your desires and mine differ and what provokes happiness in you frustrates me.
A higher power raises more questions in me without answers for you, you find safety and solace in letting GOD guide you for me I guide myself and respect in the human condition trying to pursue the common good and my own happiness it’s a balance which brings about stress.
Bowing to another isn’t in me nor would I want my feet bathed in their saliva I find respect in a partner them to me and me to them if another believes in bowing and submissive thoughts that is their thought and their choice and I will not try to pursue them I will live as me and if they scream differently I’ll tell them my life is mine and theirs is theirs.
Keep your scripture keep your rules and your conflictive morals live them be them speak them but I must live as me and you as you and that’s where the arrogance steps in because your beliefs are seeping within our justice systems and it’s time for us to clean up the spills properly dispensing your poisons back into your veins where they belong.