I’m trying to remember the last time I cried.
I had it but I lost it. Let me see…
Oh yeah- I remember now. I was listening to Belle & Sebastian. Ok, I know that sounds obnoxious but it’s true. I was organizing my old CDs and came across some mixes I made back in the day. It’s funny how fucked I thought I was at 16. So many years and many more ways to fuck up were ahead of me.
I gave myself to sin, I gave
Myself to providence and I've
Been there and back again
The state that I am in.
“The State I Am In”
Is this bitch quoting song lyrics?
Yes, your bitch is quoting song lyrics.
Is it normal to feel like one’s life is repeating in cycles? There is a new moon tonight. Apparently it’s the end of a 9 year cycle or the beginning of a new 18 year cycle. I’m an Aries so I skimmed the astrology blogs but I got the gist. It’s a time for letting go of the past. Welcome in the future. I thought I convinced myself that I didn’t care about the past. My identity was stolen in 2005 and it created a cascade of events that led to me having to drop out of school. “No big deal” I said. I made art about it. I joked about it. It was just an anecdotal part of my story; or so I thought. It’s not until now that I’ve accepted how much this event wrecked my sense of self worth. Up until that point getting into art school was my greatest accomplishment. It was all being taken away from me because of something completely out of my control. I tried to advocate for myself and get the school to back me but I didn’t have enough leverage. My dream ended abruptly. I tried to pick up the pieces and create something that would bring me into the spaces I believed my work belonged in but I was alone and my pride wouldn’t allow me to accept my disadvantage. There are people who have helped me in the years since I dropped out of school. I haven’t forgotten. In those years I created work that I’m still very proud of. But things have slowly dropped off. My decisions became more safe. I became more concerned with making money at a reliable job than keeping odd hours to make art. The years passed so quickly. Now I’m married, in LA, and in a full “mid-life” trying-to-get-my-shit-together phase. I can’t believe this has happened to me. 16 year old me was desperate for this to never happen but here it is.
I’m re-bloging this painting from 2013 because it’s on newsprint. Probably the same newsprint I talked about in my last post. I mentioned that I like working on this paper even though it’s fragile and deteriorating. Is it too obvious of a metaphor for memory? Life? The body? Time? If this is too rudimentary for you I ask that you remember that not one paragraph ago your girl was quoting Belle & Sebastian. I just cried about an hour ago before discussing all this with my husband. He made me another martini and now I’m here finishing this post. We’re going to Joshua Tree for the rest of the week. If I can find a way to post from there I will.