my heart is a monkey baby

everything
i have done
anything
i have accomplished
i have done so
in a vacuum
so to speak
my life is that experiment
i am that monkey baby
clinging to a wire surrogate
left without nurturing
from the world around
& yet
despite the lack of praise
in spite of that lack of attention
i….
well
i can’t say i “thrive”
but i survive
i keep alive
the me
inside
of me

i am exploring the fact that i have never really received any encouragement in light of my recent frustration with not ever getting much or any encouragement. my parents gave me way more discouragement than encouragement. i was an honor student and won awards in art, writing, and speech…but they never seemed to notice. i did it because it was who i was…not for anyone’s accolades.

just like my current art & writings. i do it because it is part of me–not to some day have a blockbuster film adapted from one of my works.

i am calling this “my van gogh stage” because he created–in great volume–despite only selling one piece of art in his lifetime.
also, his use of the self-portrait to express himself.
however, as with my sylvia plath phase, i will be avoiding the ultimate outcome.

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bus stop waiting

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?

skull island

do i always sea the sea
or does the sea seak me?

today’s drawing is a doodle ink blot. i wonder. i go into the drawings not knowing what i will find. but i often find sea creatures. so am i looking for sea creatures? or is that what i am finding?
i dunno.
but i saw a pterosaur today.
i cannot draw pterosaurs.
i messed it up–but then i fixed it–ish.
i felt like a 3rd grader because i was thinking of just putting a big black cloud over the part i fucked up. haha! i am actually pretty proud of fixing it as much as i did. it looked terrible to begin with. the end result is at least 5th grade level (no offense to the lower levels!)

however, as i was finishing this one up, i got deja vu. which happens a lot when i am drawing. then i try to remember if i drew that picture before. i wonder if vincent van gogh ever got that feeling as he did yet another self-portrait. i love vincent van gogh & all of his self-portraits–i’m just saying, “wait…did i do this one before?”

i was thinking. that thing they say about taking 30 days to start/end a habit. so i spent 31 days drawing every day. and now it’s my habit. that is pretty damn awesome. i am usually hanging by a thin thread of sanity. drawing every day has definitely strengthened that string.

yesterday, after doing “mister chicken” i started doodling in my journal where i have some ink spills waiting for my impression (today’s is also one such doodle). my journal pages are not the good paper that i do some of my work on, so i am more comfortable just messing around. plus, i was planning on sending this one in a letter to the boy of yesteryear who still owns my heart (it’s been 20 years & i’mĀ stillĀ not over him!) i write him random letters. who knows if i even have his right address. someone could be collecting these neurotic quixotic whimsical letters singing his praises and apologizing a million times for what went wrong….
but, anyhoo! this is a doodle & a letter started to said heartbreaker.

dearpete

ha!
i just read it again.
now watch, i’ll drink a beer and actually mail it.

but the art is fun, right? i thought the art was fun.