so i made a comic.
do i want to be doing comics?
how can i incorporate everything i have learned from my ink stain experiment to my self-portrait adventure?
how do i make it all into one thing? maybe it can’t be one thing. maybe i have to keep making lots of things.
i love some of the self-portraits i did…but am not sure how to translate them to comic…but what else can i do with them?
i need a jiminy cricket…but one that gives advice on directions in art & life….
i kind of want to work again on “lizard brain” & definitely want to get back to “moses jones”….hmmm.
and now i’m going off in random directions with new comic ideas.
fuck it. i’m going to go do some yoga.
but here’s the thing
the only one
the only one
i still love
the only one.
i flush away
without a second thought
if i look in my heart
you are always
my drawing style is kind of bugging me right now.
i feel like my ocd figures in too much
i want to be looser…hmmm
as picasso said, “It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”
i have no interest in painting like raphael, but i would love to be able to be more childlike in my art.
yesterday a drawing done by my friend usama alshaibi inspired me (after making me jealous) to play around with my style.
i also leafed through my journal and saw that not all of my drawings bug the fuck out of me. some of them i would even call good. but i think it is still good to play with style & to keep evolving my art….
before i got annoyed with my style, i was working on a new comic story. instead of paneling a page ahead of time, i am now just paneling as i go. it is more fun & much easier. however, now i am not sure i want to use this style of drawing for the story. so progress is paused….
it was always you
it was always you
the magic in my heart
my feelings of sunshine
on an overcast day
it was always you
laughing until my face hurt
like i mattered
you showed me a world
i had never seen
& have never glimpsed since
but i know it is there
i know you are there
& that is enough
it was always you
it always will be.
this is something i need to work through, y’all. being lovesick isn’t the most attractive of topics…but, he was more than just a boyfriend. more than just another warm body. more than just a chapter in the book of a serial monogamist.
please bear with me (or check back later to see if i have gotten any comics done)
my art journaling is an important part of my journey as a person & as an artist. my art journal is my way of healing…
i want to understand my heart & why it holds him so close,
when it is quick to let everyone else go.
do i put money inside or do i just hope i someday get famous & the recipient can sell it on ebay?
we met too soon
we were children
both of us
full of mistakes to make
& we made them with
…but not together
we met too soon
it’s a simple
but profound fact
i wasn’t ready
for that kind of
i’ve made my apologies
i’ve done my penance
for wrongs i commited
but it’s not my fault
we met too soon.
youth is wasted on the young. if only i knew then what i know now. we all know how it goes. they say those things because it is true. you learn life’s lessons.
and then you live with it.
some people are lucky and get a chance to put into action what they learn.
i don’t know if i will be that lucky.
but i did learn. and i should be thankful for that.
i feel a certain amount of peace in knowing that he was it. it was always him. i don’t know how to explain it. such a long story. but it was always him. always.
i feel peaceful with that realization. and knowing that i am a better person today for having known him & for having learned from our time together.
knowing that if i met him again, i wouldn’t fuck it up.
so i can’t just go from point A: inspiration to point B: execution of idea.
for me it’s more like “oh! i have an idea!”
but first i have to water & feed the livestock
wait, i have time for a shower
now i have to clean up after breakfast
now! now i can sit down & draw out my idea….
(which of course is when someone needs help with something)
sometimes this destroys my creative flow…other times it creates an atmosphere of percolation where i mull over the idea in my head as i
take a shower
until the point where i know exactly how i want to execute my idea.
so i have been bothered by this for some time. people who tell me it is inconsistent for me to believe in climate change while questioning vaccines and genetically modified foods. it occurred to me this morning that there is more than one kind of science. this is just an observance…not a well-researched thesis. however, as i see it, there is natural science (how a rainbow happens, what causes a hurricane, why climate change is real)…and then there is what i want to call “man-made” science (plastic, cloning, strip mining & pipelines). i mean the human pursuit of science often falls on the wrong side of “just because you can do it does not mean you should do it.” and i think this is probably caused by man thinking his science is superior to that of nature. he takes something natural & perverts it to meet his needs.
it’s a thought in progress. bear with me.
so i have had four pregnancies. the first two ended with doctors convincing me i was unable to give birth & cutting the baby out of me.
with my third pregnancy, knowing my body wants to go to at least 42 weeks and hearing doctors say they would not allow me to go past 41 without interventions…i quit doctors. i had two home births. and the babies came out when they were ready. after 42 weeks. healthy, normal, and with the bodies of babies born at the right time.
so this started my journey from what convention & mainstream would call “rational” to what i am today–someone who prefers to trust my instincts and question man-made science.
i believe in science. nature is science. fucking around with science is humans trying to beat nature. but we have created this culture where you are not allowed to question anything remotely “science” or you are ridiculed as a crackpot.
look where not questioning what we are told by “scientists” has gotten us.
look at the general health & state of mind of the united states.
look at the state of our climate & our environment.
ps. i am not going to argue this with anyone. i believe in my instincts & my intuition, and i am not ignorant (though admittedly not an expert) on these topics. if you don’t agree with me, that’s all you.
you are the only person
i want to be
not someone like you
(as unlikely as that is)
not someone who treats me
like you treated me
when i think of dating
i feel repulsed
when i imagine
dancing in my kitchen
waking every morning
my whole body tingles
& i swear
i must glow
with sweet longing.
writing this was easy…sharing it–not so much. so i started wondering as i tend to do. why is it easier for me to share my dark & disturbing parts?
my sad & barely surviving parts?
my anxious & depressed parts?
my struggles & shortcomings?
my feelings of worthlessness & isolation?
my oh so crazy bits?
but sharing something i wrote about love…my feelings of love…for another person…i feel like i have gone too far.
i feel like i have crossed some sort of line.
this shouldn’t be allowed!
and, to boot, it is unrequited love i am celebrating.
yuck. so gross.
why do i react to love as if it is something unspeakable? unthinkable? illogical? is this cultural/generational or is it reflective of my damage? or…is my damage also reflective of my culture/generation?
there are entire movies. entire tv series. books, poetry, and songs. all of these. dedicated to love. all kinds of love.
so why do i feel so stupid admitting that i love someone?
so in art journal psychotherapy today we have learned that i am more comfortable with & even celebratory of my darkness & my damage and will happily shove it right in your face….
but when it comes time to share my thoughts of love & devotion & romantic longing…for a man of all things…to admit that i have these feelings…then i ready myself to fall on my sword.
i find being morose a more natural & acceptable state than being dreamy.
yet i call myself quixotic and think of myself as whimsical? a puzzle inside an enigma wrapped in a conundrum.
do you see the exhausting challenge of being me? of living in my head?
in the interest of balance
here it is
a little of my yang for all of the yin
a silly love song.