on becoming outgoing

the ghost writerI used to be really, really shy.

I went through years of just never talking to anyone, just going home after work. Reading. Spending time alone or with one or two friends. Then I went through a long, angry phase of hating people who were social. That lasted a while.

At some point, BAM! I was no longer so shy.

As soon as I didn’t care what anyone thought, things got a lot easier. If someone doesn’t like me, it doesn’t really matter. I mean of course there are people that I’d like to have like me- I still don’t feel all the way happy in a crowd- but now, it’s discomfort, a bit of anxiety, whereas before it was crippling and it kept me alone most of the time.

Of course some people don’t like me much, now that I am a loudmouth. But then again…some people wouldn’t have liked me no matter what I did.

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youth of today

I once came to the conclusion that I usually have dated younger men because men my age are bitter old farts who just want to complain or make babies. I don’t think this is true in all cases but …

I do enjoy being around someone my own age and when I go out with guys my age or close to it I get really happy because the weird stuff I think about they just…get it right away. There’s no explaining why “piano wire and a block of ice” is a funny reference when I see an emo kid, or why singing a certain riff from xray spex is awesome, why long duck dong said fast makes me giggle, why I think jocks suck, or or or…

I was born in the early 70s. I remember watching the monkees on tv. I remember brown and orange and avocado green rugs. I remember not worrying about accepting candy from strangers (much). I remember a lot of stuff that just…doesn’t exist after about 1981.

And I was just old enough during the 80s to finally take part in the culture. Like during the 70s I listened to the music my parents played, but once I was 12 or 13 I started getting my own records and watching my own movies that I liked. I started being able to create and participate in my cultural environment, and ever since certain things have had a very warm place in my heart.

I was a geeky, dirty, awkward kid. I didn’t have a lot of friends. Then I went to a punk rock show and people talked to me! Nobody really cared what I looked like, because I could write and draw and add and was smart. They made me tapes, took me in when stuff was rough at home, and showed me how to spike my hair. I found people that cared about the same stuff I cared about…I tried many ways of living. I experimented with my own life in ways I never would have thought were possible without their influences.

I tried everything.

I still do.

I wonder how it is for people younger than me- if the roles we cut out for ourselves then broke in that scene ever carried over? If they feel stuffed into boxes, if any of them escape how we did? In groups or alone? I see very few younger people that are really different from the majority … I see few leading the way to the future, really thinking about it. I like it a lot when I DO see it, though.

I hope I haven’t lost all my vanity, enthusiasm, all my drive to change the world. I’m doing it in different ways of course but I still have hope that it can be done…and that I think is what I miss in men my own age or older. I love extremism, idealism…I want more of that. No matter someone’s age.

This is really just more rambling. Glad you guys keep reading it all…I don’t know how you manage.

 

 

originally written in june, 2010

Charity work, part one- Women.

51b6a0c0 (64)Tomorrow I’ll be doing some charity work for a group I highly admire, who have assisted me personally in the past.

If you’ve ever been the victim of a sexual assault, RAINN can help. They even have online chat support, people you can talk to online. This is pretty good news for a lot of people- part of the way an abusive situation can manifest is in agoraphobia, or fear of the telephone. For some people even being able to call for help is impossible. And for those people, RAINN provides an online support mechanism.

If you need help, to get away from an abusive situation, or to get help coping with a past sexual assault or abuse, follow this link http://rainn.org/get-help/national-sexual-assault-online-hotline to the online support group.

 

If you want to help, you can become a volunteer for the new National Sexual Assault Online Hotline and be a part of this generation’s most innovative source of support for victims of sexual violence. For more info, and to sign up, visit http://www.rainn.org/get-involved/volunteer-for-RAINN/ohl-volunteer.

 

I owe them my life, pretty much. I have for many years. I am finally settled in with a kindly, gentle man, in a safe place, without any of the troubles I have at other times had in my life. I’m capable of helping, finally. If you too can, please do!

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I’ll be posting my charity plans/works weekly as I go through the summer. My next charity post will be Animals, and time spent volunteering at the shelter.

rats win races, sloths succeed.

556740_10151360701822712_101340810_n559917_10151362094257712_740607251_nDSC_1159a reminder tattoo for a tattoo artist friend of mine. he wanted to remember to slow down, and do more focused work, instead of hurrying up and rushing himself. He is the kind of artist who feels a lot of pressure from his clients, he tends to feel so glad to be tattooing that he forgets that his work is valuable, that his BEST work is worthwhile…that people who want really good tattoos are willing to pay for them, and that he is capable of doing great tattoos, and therefore shouldn’t undervalue his time…

If you undercharge people, you start to feel rushed. it’s inevitable- you end up booked solid for months but barely making ends meet. hurrying up to get that tattoo done in time, in the small amount of time you quoted them for. it’s far better to quote high, to take your time, take that extra hour to do your VERY BEST work on people.

any rate- I love fucking sloths. And this one is particularly classy, too.

also,

 

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I spent a day at Neptune, south of Yachats on the coast.

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big tree, work in progress!

while working on my friend’s tree tonight he told me about his zen retreat experience.

the group meditates, all sitting in position. a monk creeps stealthily and calmly between the rows of silent people, carrying a long flat stick. when he notices someone out of position or obviously distracted, he taps them on the shoulder, then whacks them hard on each shoulder.

I’ve also been promised a link to a podcast that discusses the nature of pain and how to cope with it by staying in the moment.

I find that if I start paying attention to someone’s physical pain while tattooing them, it becomes more difficult to focus on the art itself, the technical aspects and creative aspect of the work. So I try my hardest to block it out or make a joke – I am far from a soothing nurse, in other words.

So maybe if I have access to a soothing podcast, I can throw headphones on my clients while I torture them.

Sociopathic film characters, the master list.

I know- it’s been done. But I want to talk about a few characters I find really interesting.

There are spoilers in here. Get over it.

Most top-ten lists leave out the female characters (of which there are plenty), child characters, and characters that are more quietly menacing than flamboyant. Most sociopaths don’t want to be noticed (with the lone outlier of narcissists) and prefer to be taken for unassuming victims of circumstance. There are some of course, who commit desperate and crazed acts, but they’re less the majority than you might think.

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is your art good enough to sell online?

Short answer? Yes.

Long, realistic answer?

pretty on the inside

I show you my heart.

Putting your art up online is kind of like showing it in a gallery. You may not be the best at your particular art style, but if you want to improve, showing the internet what you are doing is a good way to get better. There are so many skill levels, so many ways of expressing yourself; the internet is home to them all.

If you’re really timid, start slow. Use deviantart, and request critiques. Once you feel like you can handle more harsh views, try some art forums, and ask for opinions.

Or, alternately, you can dive right in. We all start where we are. Try to get very good pictures of your work. never upload giant files; upload files that are just big enough to look good on a monitor, no larger. Image theft is common, and sometimes unintentional. If you watermark unobtrusively, and only upload smaller files, you’ll find more people credit you when reposting or sharing your work. You want people to do that, because that is how you will sell your art online.

Etsy is a good starter for artists. It’s not the best venue for fine art, but it can be a good way to get your feet wet. Be cautious, though, as most of the advice on using etsy is not written with art in mind, but easily-reproducible craft. Your painting can’t be tagged and posted the same way a t-shirt can. This is why etsy is only a starter site.

The Craftstar has a decent art section, but you will have to have a paypal and pay for listing in advance.

You could also opt for one of the other sites geared for art sales- originals are harder to sell most places than prints, but it IS possible to sell just originals online.

If you are just starting out, keep your prices as low as possible. Once you are selling your work on a regular basis, then you can raise your prices. At first, it’s unknown if you will succeed or not. Most people not only buy art for its look, for how it grabs the eye, but also for the artist’s longevity, their name, their history. Build your history a little!

It’s the internet. You should maintain privacy for your own comfort and safety of course-but letting people get to know you, talking about deep or personal things, lets the viewer understand the origin of your works, and become more invested in them. Give them a chance to find out where the art came from. You can be a cantankerous bitch hermit like me and STILL be capable of showing your inner self online. You don’t have to be outgoing to do it; you can talk as if the site was your own art journal, your own notes about each piece.

So- yeah. Your art is good enough to sell online- at etsy or anywhere else. Keep your expectations of sales low at first, and your prices the same, and then as time passes you will see how your work can fit into the greater whole of online art.

And if you need encouragement, ask for it. And if you need a slap on the wrist, or a sound drubbing, you should ask for that too. All the help you could ever want from other artists lives inside your computer, but it can only do you good if you put your own work in there too.

independence, surviving, and remembrance.

In 2003, on the 4th of July, I tried to kill myself.

from that time:

 “I feel pain, and I don’t know where to put it or what to do. I am also SO FUCKING ANGRY that I wanna blow up, tear up, the world sometimes. I am striving not to take that out on the people around me. I am striving for “alone time”. I am striving for…clarity. I cannot make up my mind about anything.  Everything I could do now that is good, feels like my second choice in direction, and not a close second either, but a booby prize. And I don’t know if I can do all the things the world wants me to do and that I’m supposed to do, because I feel utterly exhausted even thinking about the smallest thing.”

Mopery! (I know mopery actually means something else.) I was utterly destroyed at the time. I had been in my worst, lowest kind of depression for months, and then began a long protracted breakup as well, that weekend.

It was one of the lowest times of my entire life. I lived through it, and it’s a little fresh today, so I won’t go into too much detail right now. But I will say that I have not tried again, my life has changed for the better, and my ability to weather down times has grown- and that I am glad I survived, and am here.

I wasn’t selfish- I was in pain. I wasn’t a coward- I was at the end of my rope. I know that if you have never been that far down, inside, you don’t understand that. I am glad that you don’t because it really is bad. Suicide, for some people at some times, is like a dog chewing off a leg to escape a trap.

I’m going to spend today, unlike every other year so far- nurturing the crap out of myself, instead of partying with my people. It’s a good day. I’m free, and I’m alive.

You guys, light a firecracker or ten for me. I’ll see you at the next shindig.

ETA:

my mom says, “It’s not that bad things happen to good people.It’s that good things happen to bad people. That’s what gets me.”

I agree.

excerpt from “through the looking glass”, an article by Mary Cecil about her experience with psychosis and commitment

Mary Cecil voluntarily committed herself to an institution in the early 1950s. This account was published in its entirety in Encounter, in 1956. Again, the article is excerpted from the book “The Inner World of Mental Illness”.

(for other excerpts, see here, or here)

After a fortnight in a sort of reception ward in the mental hospital, I complained to the doctor that nothing was being done. They didn’t appear to appreciate the urgency of the position. There was I, helpless in the hands of a fiend from Hell and anything might happen any minute. (Ms. Cecil believes that a hallucinated voice is the Devil, sent to harass her.) The Hospital ambled through its days, sweeping us off to Occupational Therapy or out to grass, as the mood took it. One might be suddenly singled out and, eager with hope, be subjected to a blood test or some flippancy like that.

“Ah, but we’re doing so much for you,” the doctor said earnestly…”In fact,” the doctor continued fatly, “we’re going to give you some injections. You’ll be moved to another ward.”

I’d learned already that it was a waste of time asking questions. Psychiatrists thrive on their air of mystery. Anyway, the fact of strange surroundings was enough. In this ward there had been some outbursts from explosive patients. …I noticed that the more obstreperous patients were dragged off, protesting violently, to some outer dungeon spoken of in whispers as the Villa. I added that to my fears and redoubled my attempts to appear totally harmless.

She discusses insulin treatment she received after being transferred to the next ward- a treatment used commonly at that time.

After tea I saw a lady doctor who said I was to have some injections. I saw myself ablaze with vitamins in next to no time. At bedtime the men disappeared into one dormitory and we women into another, so that was all right. Just as I was getting into bed I noticed a sheet marked the Villa. There was a curious taste in my mouth, had I been tricked into the place? Heart thudding, I gazed out the window and saw a small building by itself. “That’s the Villa,” breathed the woman in the next bed.

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