Cold As A Cucumber

Im sitting outside on my deck on this beautiful morning. Im gazing at everything that once filled me with happiness and pride. I feel nothing anymore. Just emptiness and wondering. Where did I go? Im a mannequin acting as if I am a live person. It is a good acting job, except theres not a damn thing going on inside. How many times have I had to do this to myself? To kill myself. I learned it when I was a baby so its more than I can even recall. All I know is that this dead feeling is all too familiar. To go from living and feeling to this dead hole is my expert accomplishment in life. And if all its done is keep me alive, I have to wonder was it worth learning. Where am I? Back where I started. I toured the world a little, got to know what it could be for me, and then its back home to Holesville, the place you always want to leave, but never can. I sit outside in the beauty I have created and feel nothing. It would kill me to do so. It all will be gone soon. This is how I take care of myself. I pull away, put out of my mind, stuff anything down and cover it up with anger and bitterness. Anger and bitternes makes a great lid to top off feelings that are never to see the light of day again. And dont be fooled by that damn carrot thats always being pimped in front of your face. The price for that carrot is too high for you to pay. The price is loving, happiness, and giving to others, which then will be promptly pulled out beneath you, leaving you stunned and feeling like a fool for paying the pimp AGAIN! It is making a deal with the devil and that never ends well. You can tell me it will get better and I ask you when? Im 56 and it has never gotten better. Just went from shades of grey to black again. Is that improvement? I really think Im cursed.

Get Paid?

Next da Vinci question: How can I get paid for what I love? Hmmm, good question. When you are an artist, its not good enough to create, and they will come, much less buy. This is the biggest bugger question that I have been dealing with right now. Lets just get the economy card out of the way first thing. Im not falling for that excuse. There are plenty of people who have plenty of money, and a good quantity of them buy art. Its all about getting into the right venue, and the right market. It is who you know and whether or not you have the cahonies to go for it in spite of what your checking account says. By that I mean in art, as in most businesses, it takes money to make money. Being an artist is expensive when you are promoting yourself properly. There are various dues and fees, art materials you must buy, advertising (yes, I said advertising), shipping costs, travel expenses, etc.... Oh yeah, if you are to do it properly, that is whats involved. And at the same time you must keep a roof over your head, food in your stomach, keep transportation (big enough to cart things around), and all the other necessities of life. And they are bare bone necessities. No dinners out, movies, lattes, new clothes, or any other fun things in life. It should be good enough for the artist to art. If you are not happy with that scenario, then forget about being successful as an artist. Admittedly, there are flukes of nature, like the paint thrower who is "discovered", or the artist that just happens to be in the right place, at the right time, meeting the right people, or then theres the person who is set financially already. That person will have to be particularly hungry to be an artist, because the biggest motivator is gone, making money to survive.
So to get back to the question, what do I have to do to get paid for what I love? All of the above and more things I was too lazy to mention, because there is more. I havent even touched on the emotional aspect of it all. And as you know by now, Im bi poler with depression and anxiety, so its double hard for me to fight the good fight. In my wildest dreams, I would say I want a patron, who believes in me and supports me in my baby steps to success, or a mentor who opens all needed doors for me. Wouldnt that be wonderful!
Oh, and I forgot, it doesnt matter much as to whether you are a good artist. Great artists are a dime a dozen. And there are plenty of artists who became successful by just throwing paint at a canvas, or leaving it blank. And yeah, that truly chaffes my ass (my mothers favorite expression). But life is indeed seemingly unfair. You can control it to a large degree, but its still a crap shoot. Life is what we make it.

Life Is What I Make It

Yesterday held a possible promise of a chance for me and my career. But after sitting through long hours of hearing other peoples dreams, there was no space or time for mine. Another days wasted energy spent. I know Im not invisible, or else people wouldnt talk to me at all. They see me, but they dont see ME!. I simmer over with ideas and creativity. Im a great artist. I dont mean great as in an artist of note, but a darn good painter and drawer. Gosh darn, thats me, and I claim it. Theres nothing wrong with my confidence. Then what is wrong with me? Is it because Im not young and beautiful anymore. That held its own problems, because people still didnt see ME. I got their attention because I was nice to look at, and that is all. They never wanted to examine my brain. I am a woman of substance, and surface gratuity just doesnt do it for me. I refuse to be placated by being thrown a bone every now and then. I want this "show" to be about Me, for once in my life. Starts with ME and ends with ME.
I came home to a dismal existence and was very depressed. Later I had a panic attack because I couldnt stop obsessing about it. I feel like I have made a mental separation from my past, these last few days. Im ready and willing to let go of what I thought I wanted. I know now what I really want and it is crystal clear in my mind. Its almost like Im living it already. The problem is, is that my outside world does not resemble my inside world. What kind of magic wand will it take to make it appear before my eyes, because I know its there. I have been cultivating the life I want first, through the medium of Facebook. Im ready to take it to the next step. I will not be dismissed and ignored. Im not that sad little girl anymore.

Cant stop the tears

When faced with degradation of the environment and the brutality against animals, I cannot help but cry. Its so visceral, it affects me to my core. I have a whole body reaction, not just tears. It might as well be me that is being destroyed. I dont separate myself from other forms of life. I am them, and they are me. I would put myself right in the fray of things, if it didnt nearly incapacitate me. I fall into a deep angry depression, and I dont like how it makes me feel. I always wondered, if ever faced with a life or death situation, how much trouble I would get into. Not concerning my own safety, but, getting into trouble with the law. When Im righteously wrylled, I have no fear. Its do or die. That concerns me somewhat. You wont see me with Green Peace in the ocean saving whales, anymore than you will see me working in an animal shelter. I feel TOO much, and Im being responsible by keeping myself out of it. I choose to leave the more unsavory work to those who can handle it and themselves. I cant listen to songs associated with the death of anything, and I have to change the channel on the TV when these things are being talked about and shown. The You Tube videos I post on Facebook, I dont watch. I just want to send them into the ethers hoping some strong soul can actually do something about it. Ive been depressed most of my life and sensitive all of my life. I got hysterical at seven years of age, when a storm was destroying my zinnia I planted. I watched in horror out the window, as hail and wind pummeled it. If I had the choice, I would choose not to be this sensitive, always seeing the nasty under belly of things.