I know I've been writing a lot lately. My body is exploding with words dying to get out; I have no other outlet. People think I talk to much, but they don't realize that I never really say anything. It's just meaningless dribble to keep the conversation going. For the sake of what? I don't know. Courtesy, I'm guessing. Maybe if I fill their minds with who I want them to think I am, then they'll never really know the real me. The terror underneath that can't imagine being without them, but can't stand being around them.
What the hell am I doing and what is the point? When do I get to take my shit degree and move on and do something that make my heart beat passionately instead of it's current state--going on because it's too bored to find something else to do. I sit in class on edge waiting for class to end. It's an anxious feeling, like something big is going to happen to me right after class and I can't wait, only there never is anything big.
I want to live in the city, I want to take photographs of anything and everything I find beautiful, I want to do everything I've never done and more. I want to breathe crisp morning air that doesn't smell like the stock yards blowing in from the South. I don't want to hear any more people around me bitching about how hard they have it and how depressed they are. You're depressed because you shut yourself out from the world and drown it in "school work". You're depressed because no one likes sitting alone in a room with their television and computer keeping them company. I just want to be completely IN the world, I want it to envelope me in every way. I know others sadness rubs off on me and I allow myself to succumb to self-pity. Self-loathing is a completely different problem. That's no one's fault but my own. I know I'm beautiful, smart and funny. But something is off. One tiny part of me isn't convinced. It's laughing in my face. Laughing at my ambitions, laughing at my attempts at grace.
How long do I have to wait and think "If I just take shit for a little longer, I can do what I want." Because I am hoping it's when college ends. I know it isn't. How much shit will I take at some Snob ad agency before I feel satisfied.
Who am I angry with? I can't figure it out. I can blame my roommates, my parents, or school. But is it anyone's fault? I feel empty again. You tell me that I'm not. I do feel loved, I do. But it's just...nothing. My mind is getting the best of me.
Once, when I was younger, just once- in a moment of complete absent mindedness or maybe clarity, I dropped a curling iron against my skin on purpose, just to see how long I could stand the pain. It wasn't an act of despair or sadness, it was just something I was curious about. There were a lot of things about life I was trying to understand, and the line between the two concepts of physical and emotional pain seemed fuzzy. I still have the scar to prove it. I tell people I fell asleep and dropped the curling iron, for fear that people would think I was mental for having any wonder.
I have all these plans and goals, and I'm well on my way to getting what I want. I know that I just have to stick to it. So what's the deal?
My dreams lately are nothing but jokes on reality. Dreams that seem so real. I wake up and wonder if they really happened. Those dreams are more haunting that anything else. Are they manifests of my desires or worst fears? I don't want them.
Hit me, where's my quick fix?
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"I want to live in the city, I want to take photographs of anything and everything I find beautiful, I want to do everything I've never done and more."-are you sure you're not me? I'd love to see all your photos, and show you mine. In a perfect world, I'd have all thousands of them uploaded on flickr, but instead, I haven't uploaded anything in more than a year. Feel free to have a look though.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/shemekalikashenice/
I have more on my art website.
"Hit me, where's my quick fix?"-HA! I have one, but first a quote from a future blog, "No one wants to have regrets. People like to say, I have no regrets, I'd do things the same way, again." They just want to feel okay about themselves. I regret what I didn't do in my teens, twenties, and thirties, I don't want to regret what I could have done in my fourties."
I tell my daughters, now in their early twenties that if they can find a way to live without working, they should establish that now. I tell them to proclaim themselves artists, do art, good or not, and insist that's who they are and what they do. There are art colonies that would support them in that. Okay, so that's my dream. I know you have plans and goals, and you're not a quiter, and you'll follow through with what you started. I wouldn't say you should do the above, and think you might, anymore than I think my girls might. You said,"How long do I have to wait and think "If I just take shit for a little longer, I can do what I want." This is somewhat of an illusion. Complications tend to always come up, to keep you from doing what you want. Most just give up, some are stubborn like me, and after several years figure out what's going on, and begin doing what they want guerilla-style where-ever they can. That's my advice to you, find a way to fit in as much self gradification as everyday will allow. We are all heading to the same end, it's the stuff between now and then that matters. It would be sad if on your death-bead you reflected, "I was a good worker. I really excelled in my field."
CARPE DEIM"
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