i’m tired of what i have been doing with ink brush painting.
yesterday i used some leftover ink to make random panels on a sheet of paper.
today i pulled a comic out of my ass…
and then i ended up spilling a bunch of black ink
so in the spirit of sustainability and not wasting and taking lemons & making lemonade,
i did a quick sketch using the spilled ink…which is the inking showcased at the top of today’s blog.
full moon long shadows.
i like it.
i like my art.
i like being me.
so there, world of no recognition…or very little recognition. i like my stuff. i know i am good. i don’t need your fucking “likes” (but, you know, they are nice)
on a personal note
because it has been too long without me over-sharing…
i had half-invited dusty to live here–as a paying lodger…but now i am re-thinking that. i mean, it sounds like a recipe for disaster.
he just won’t grow up.
and it’s not like i am so good at being a grown up…but i manage.
meanwhile, he pays a minimal child support…occasionally.
he has a crap job because he won’t bother looking for another one.
he lives with his crap-ass mom because he won’t bother finding his own place–nor does he have the money to do so.
and he has a crappy car that does not run because he just stored it in a garage for seven years while he made me give him rides.
and now he is dependent on him mom for rides.
and i keep thinking…why?
why won’t he just get up off his ass and do something?
well, i guess he’s just waiting for me to pick him up again.
so what happens if i don’t?
social media sucks ass.
for us super sensitive
sometimes i hate
so so so much
i feel like a stupid tool
everyone hates me
why do i do this
this is the third inking i have done today.
i am about to post it on facebook. in that stupid group i am in. and it will get zero “likes” as have the other two today.
my art doesn’t suck that bad.
why can’t i get a “like”….
and why do i care?
fuck a duck
i am ready to just quit facebook. a fucking social media site should not be able to cause me this kind of torment.
i know it’s stupid.
yet i am tormented.
i am going to keep doing inktober.
i am going to keep doing art.
i am going to keep practicing my ink brush painting (right now i am opening the book the photo ark to a random page and painting it.)
and! and–i am going to get back to my comics. my moses jones and all the others.
it’s been too long.
so fuck you, facebook. even if you hate my art. i love my art.
i love being an artist.
a nice fucking neurotic artist.
okay–so i was going to stick to one color with my initial practicing of ink & brush. but then i saw this picture of a squid and the colors were so amazing so i just had to fuck that up.
i once took a water color class, and there was this girl in it who could paint photo perfect watercolors. they were totally amazing and took her days & days to finish. i could do like 10 watercolors in the time she did one. more even. that’s me. that’s my style & my nature. i work fast & sloppy.
ironically, the piece of hers i liked the best, was one that was in disarray because it was not done yet–that’s the one i would have bought.
i mentioned that i am in a facebook inktober group–so my feed is full of inkings by other people. some are alright. some are crap. some are amazing. and i am all like, “i want mine to be amazing!!”
then i have to remind myself that my art is my art and has something of me to it–whether others think it is amazing or not.
plus, i think if i find other’s art inspiring, i should try to incorporate–aka “borrow”–aka “steal like an artist”–aspects that i find amazing.
but, one step at a time. right now i am challenging myself to work only in ink brush.
for a bit anyway.
fidgit is doing INKtober with me. i am posting his to the same group i am in. so far, he gets way more facebook likes than i do.
you know what? i am totally okay with that. i want him to be a better artist than me. i want him to have the encouragement & opportunities that i did not.
he is amazing.
so as it turns out,
i’m not crazy–i’m an empath.
sometimes i’m still crazy.
but when i get super sad and then feel elated the next minute–
the thing is–
i often don’t feel my own emotions,
i feel other people’s emotions.
i always knew i was really really empathetic
but only in the past couple of years have i learned about being an empath.
so i’m an empath.
i feel things
and know things
that other people cannot sense.
i know when someone is lying.
i can see an aura better than i can notice the color of your eyes.
and it has come to my attention that being an empath–& not knowing how to protect yourself–is a dangerous & even a bad thing.
i don’t know how to protect me.
i lay open for everyone to just dump their emotions in.
and then i turn into a raging pond of dumped emotions.
so today i was reading a book about service dogs for families that have special needs children and i felt profoundly sad. and instead of just feeling sad, i examined why i felt sad…only to realize that the sadness was not my own, but the sadness of these families.
it finally clicked.
i was not feeling my own emotions.
i was feeling someone else’s!!
and just like that, the sadness evaporated.
how often am i doing that?
being angry with someone else’s anger?
being happy with someone else’s happiness?
being frustrated with someone else’s frustration?
when i was a child, i loved animals. all animals. i loved them. i collected them. i had over fifty pets as a kid–and even more imaginary ones.
but my dad was so angry.
and he put that anger on us kids
and on the animals.
and i felt myself absorb that anger.
i felt it grow inside me.
i recognized it when it came out–it was his anger, not mine.
but over the years i adopted it as my own.
i was the one being angry at the animals.
it stopped being his and became mine.
and i felt so horrible about it
i cringe to think that that is who i am.
but what if it isn’t?
if i now realize it is not my anger after all…can i send it on its way?