Self Talk

I know it’s not much, but I am spending more time working on “More Different”. “Not Much” meaning about a half hour daily for about a week now. So really, not much. Even so, I’m keeping the trend and even making plans to build on it. I’ll stop here lest I jinx myself. I’ll post more junk as I go.

There’s a reputation behind artists and comedians and writers being a little “off.” I consider myself in that demographic, both as artist and as “off.” I’m moody, neurotic, insecure, needy, addictive, melodramatic; I’m a handful. I don’t know if it’s the pursuit of art that has given me these bristling personality traits or if it’s the traits that lead me to art. I like what I make. Little visual witticisms that inspire joy. I view them as fanciful comics in the vein of Far Side and Calvin and Hobbes. Even so, they are valid and they serve their purpose well.

Me, I stumble on myself. I forget or neglect the work or worth I put in. I get confused and frustrated. I put all the art business and painting aside while I sulk. Only after a time do I come back I really remember why it is I do what I do. I pick up art again and the cycle begins anew. This janky apparatus of mine is how I’ve gotten by for so long. I’d like to tweak the mechanisms a little. I’d like it very much if I spent less time fighting myself and more time investing in the craft. It’s like a marriage: it takes work to make it work. The joys are there the benefits and blessings are all there. It’s the human condition to take it for granted. You don’t really appreciate what you have until it’s gone. It’s not until it’s gone that the curses and stresses fall away and you’re only left with the good of it all. Remembering by forgetting.

This post this morning, I know it’s a little all over. It’s a self-talk scenerio. I’m feeling a little frustrated and flustered and overwhelmed with what I do, who I am, and how I function. The same fights with myself over and over again. The sinking feeling as I recall the struggles over the years. The damning realization that it’s unlikely the situation or I will change. The entirety of it leaves me terribly sober.

This is who I am and how I am. I think it would serve everyone best if I accepted it. I suspect the art would flow more freely and I would be more content . . .

I’m gonna go make a dentist appointment now.

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