when i was twenty-two, my therapist told me to stop dating.
she feared i had a sexual addiction.
in fact, i was (am?) addicted to relationships (which is one reason it took me ten thousands attempts to break up with dusty)
& being also afflicted with contrary personality disorder (i just made that up)
i shook off my therapist’s instructions & found some troubled
boy to date
whom i wasn’t even really attracted to
(a re-occurring personality in my grab-bag of relationships)
long story short
when i realized i was being stupid
i called the boy up & told him i needed “to talk” to him
…& i never saw him again.
he disappeared before i could break up with him
that is not the last time i had a boyfriend vanish before i could break up with him….
okay–so while i was doing the illustration/self-portrait/comic for this, i messed up my drawing & had to cover it up and then when i was doing background color–my ink smeared??? but…i think i salvaged it.
my ink is not supposed to smear. bad ink.
so it looks like this might be the direction this whole experiment turns to. a comic. an illustrated journal/memoir.
that would be kinda cool.
let’s see what other noteworthy memories i can dredge up.
as i have said, i really want to practice my ink brush.
INKtober is giving me permission to do that.
which is cool
because i so often fail to give myself permission to play with my art.
finding other things to do is so easy…
fuck, i mean, i was going to take a shower first thing this morning…
it took me three hours to get there….
life gets in the way of art & grooming.
INKtober means i have to play with my art every day or i am a big stinky loser (i think that’s what the rules say–i am not a very careful reader of rules & directions–which actually explains a lot about my life)
i spent last night watching the new season of gotham and playing with my ink & brush.
needless to say, i had a lot of fun doing it.
i am just starting with one color & simple concepts.
i might do some image searches so i can get good stills with shadows and maybe do away with the outer line entirely.
so much fun!
i love being covered with ink
so much ink. i’m not sure if i should re-do this one or go with it. i am playing around a lot with intentional ink stains. i am no van gogh however.
i’m still undecided on some of my results.
some i feel really strongly about…others, i’m not so sure.
i could point out all of the things that bug me…but i’m not going to. i’m working on managing my anxiety, and i think this somehow falls into it.
so here are some pages.
it’s probably not a good sign that i am googling things like “i just want to talk.” and looking on wordpress for blogs with “lonely” and “lost” in them. i would go on a dating site, but they give me the heeby-jeebies. i usually end up deleting my profile after a couple of hours. i end up getting way too much attention when i go on dating sites. how desperate are these people? i wonder. and i effectuate a hasty retreat.
what does it say that i find so many others when i use search words such as “lost,” “lonely,” and “just talk to me”?
maybe we are all lost & lonely & looking to talk to someone…anyone.
it’s been a long time, if ever, where i was in a relationship with a kindred spirit. someone i could open up to. someone with whom i did not feel lonely or lost. did i ever have that?
maybe. maybe once.
but i have spent a lot of my life feeling alone. i was born unconventional in a conventional small town. the quiet one. the strange one. it’s always been difficult for me to find people who understand me.
i know there are others like me.
i’ve seen the memes on facebook.
but somehow i have trouble believing they would understand me either. how can everyone be so different and strange? and how can i be so different and strange that i don’t even fit in with the different and strange?
i think i might be a different species. logical conclusion, right?
and i’ve decided that vincent van gogh is the patron saint of misfit artists. sorry. i was working on drawing while the minions made me watch doctor who. you know the episode with vincent van gogh? it makes me cry every time.
i don’t want to die alone. i mean, i know everyone essentially dies alone. born alone; die alone. all that. but i really mean, i don’t want to die alone. i want to find that one person. that one person who makes sense. and that one person who understands me.
i know that’s asking a lot.
but it could happen…right?