Hi! My name Steve. I’m a forty-some-odd old caucasion male. My hobbiest include sleep deprivation, neouroticism, and self-flaggelation. I love ignoring the serene beauty of long walks on the beach while obsessing over what’s imperfect in my life. I’m looking for love in all the worst places. If you pick me, I can promise you codependence alongside petty nitty-gritty fights on a frequent basis.
It’s stated in jest, I assure you. Hopefully the comedy isn’t too bitter.
Despite the self depreciating opening and the room therein to be misread, I’m in a delightful mood. This morning finds me at work watching another feller with a drinking problem. He quit cold turkey and when you do that with alcohol it’s life threatening. So be mindful about your vices, kids.
Watching a dude sleep it off is boring as fuck 99% of the time. I’m gonna be bored eventually, but not yet. I have the wherewithal to write here, spend some time on poems, and drawings. I’ve got a ways to go yet before I’m clawing at the walls. Soooo, give it about an hour.
What do I tell you about books and arts and crafting that I haven’t already told you? The grind is still grinding away. I have a healthy fourday weekend ahead inwhich to do just that: grind. I’m excited! And! There’s a ten day vacation coming up where MORE artworks can happen. The next coupla weeks are gonna be productive. The notion gives me tingles.
No art this weekend. Had to wrestle with life’s projects. In particular, the swamp cooler was no good. House would get as hot as a drier in Hades. Spent about eight hours and two hundred bucks rebuilding the thing. At th time, it felt like an ordeal especially with all the trips to Home Depot for last minute parts and supplies. Long story short, its humming away cooling like it should!
To be honest, I was bothered by the whole the chore of it and being disappointed about not doing art. That was until I came to work to find a co-worker with a very similar situation. Poor girl had to spend four thousand dollars to have hers replaced. Good lord! Suddenly my efforts are contrasted against what could have been. Who knew that “chore” could save me so much money.
Onto other chores and saving money, Scraped up the car. Spent the other half of the weekend researching filing a claim versus letting it go, getting various quotes, reading all the fine print. Uhg, I don’t need or want to get screwed over by a system already out to get me. So I was a busy boy all weekend.
There’s stuff on my plate. There always is. It’s always gonna feel like too much. If precedent demonstrates anything, as soon as my plate gets room, I’ll find a project to fill it. Fix something, replace another thing, learn a new skillset; this is my pattern in life the past twenty-some-odd years.
So when I start to really get on myself about working hard enough, good enough, fast enough. I really really gotta tell that nagging inner voice to shut the fuck up.
I’m doing fine. I always have been.
I’m doing great for what I got. Especially considering I do so much of it by myself. What I got is smaller but it’s earned, it’s honest, but is mine.
Reconnected with a near and dear art friend recently. And wouldn’t you know it, I couldn’t help but vomit art frustrations all over him. To his credit, he patiently listened to it all and even reflected his own concerns back. And it was then that I knew I needed more like him in my life.
The artistic business, or any creative business, is a tricky one. A person invests a lot of time and effort into paintings, writings, and projects and proceeds to share. Sometimes the works are warmly recieved and other times they flop and other times ignored altogether. Usually a frothy mix of all three.
And the blame for successes or failures? Sometimes it’s the artist’s fault and sometimes not and still other times where the results aren’t known for years at a time. Again, usually a confusing mix of all factors and more.
Guess what it’s like trying to calculate whether or not due diligence is practiced. Chaos! When you are trying to make educated guesses and the scope of things is so vast, boy howdy, it’s maddening.
Which brings us round to the aforementioned art buddy. To have someone, anyone, to talk to about the process and hardships who understands. It means the world! It helps to orient self from the outside. Not to mention the therapy component.
Suddenly I can see the value in veterans sharing with veterans. The validation of commraderie. Why those people who preach so hard about surrounding yourself with the right people are so certain. Feels good man.