Resolutions

2013 is going to be my year. A great year. I'm going to make sure of it. First step is to finally complete my resolutions. No more looking back at my previous resolutions to realize that over last 5 years nothing has gotten crossed off the list. So this year I am creating a system to keep myself accountable. I'll make it public. So that means you... mom. Hi.Thanks for reading. And to anybody else that stumbles onto my blog.

So here is the list... hmmm I don't like the word list. Sounds so temporary. Here is the 2013 commandments of Amy's resolutions. Way more official. Nothing like more commandments that I can feel guilty for breaking.

1. Six-pack baby. 
I've always wanted one. I've come close a couple of times, 4-pack, if I had the flu. I know this seems like a shallow goal that doesn't have any real benefits, but how is it any different than wanting to do other shallow thing. Ok so judge me... and my soon to be beautiful abs. I've been active my whole life so it's time to take it to the next level. 

my goal

2. Parlez-vous Francais. 
I took French in High school and a little bit recently, but since I want to live in France some day I should commit to learning the language. I just wish that darn Rosetta Stone software wasn't so expensive. If you speak French or know someone who does please write to me in Francais and I'll do my best not to insult the beauty of the language. Parlez-vous huma huma? I just couldn't resist.

me in paris

3. Rock and roller. 
 Learn to play the guitar even if it's only a couple songs, good songs, not like happy birthday or Jingle Bells. I figure that if I practice at least 10 minutes each day I should be able to learn a couple songs each month. 10 minutes. That's about the time I take to shower. Well that's 7 minutes, but that's not even worth tuning the guitar.

Joan Jett

4. GoDaddy. 
I created a cheap free website (my site) that has sufficed, but now I want something that has all my content without some long cheesy web URL and ads attached to it. I'm thinking either Joomla or Drupal as my CMS (content management system). Nerdy I know. Anyone have any recommendations?
This is what I want my website to look like. Seriously if you haven't seen this site it's amazing.

JimCarry's Website
But something like these might be a little more realistic

http://fabiominduim.com.br/

5. Blog.
Well I can check this one of the list. Just 2 good blogs a month. Something that requires research, thought, and humor, not just my rantings. Even thought my ranting can be quite entertaining unless you are the reason for my rant. Here are few nice blogs I enjoy.  
http://www.wanderingearl.com/blog/

http://www.designsponge.com/ 

6. Healthy Hip. 
This is actually my number one priority, but there isn't much I can do that I'm not already doing. Once I hear back from UC Davis I will head down there for another diagnosis. I just wish someone knew what was wrong and I would do whatever it took to fix it. In the mean time I'll just pray.

7. Dear God.
Speaking of prayers and all that religious stuff. Next on my list is to read the Bible. The whole thing. Now as a Christian I should have done this by now. I guess I just worry about what I'll find and if it will make my feminist heart cringe. If anyone has a feminist Bible I'd love to read that. Something that puts the injustice to women in some kind of context so I don't view God as a misogynist. Also, I'm getting paid by an Atheist $150 to read it. Don't ask. 

8. Live wholistically. 

Now this doesn't mean become a Buddhist hippy on a RAW food diet... as lovely as that sounds, "Wholistic refers to the whole, a whole item or whole body of a person or thing. The word defines the consideration of the entire structure or makeup, which

includes the body, mind and the spirit in the case of a human being." Since I've hurt my hip I've learned that your body needs more attention than just what you see on the outside. I need to take vitamins and minerals and be conscious of what I'm putting into my body. Now while organic food is expensive I know I can cut back on some things in order to get my body in good health. Less sugar, soda, dairy. More greens. I hate kale with a passion, but I've gotta get those lively foods into my system daily. Groan.

9. DJ Vive (VeeVah). 
Pretentious I know. When people find out I'm a DJ they always assume I must be like Deadmau5. Nope. I'm an event DJ. I play the songs you want to hear. I don't mash up good music to crazy rave beats that make you want to take drugs. I enjoy getting people to dance not use glow sticks. However, it is my desire to be skilled in beat matching and mixing. I don't have all the software I would need, but I'm ready to learn. While I don't aspire to be the next Skrillex I wouldn't mind partying it up with Nervo. Not because I love their mashups, but because they look so cool doing it.

Australian Twin DJs

10. Work on not being pretentious. 

11. Get Scrappy. 
I'm no Martha Stewart, but damn I've always wanted to make one scrap book. In high school I bought stuff for this crafty project. It counted as an art credit. Now I'm heading toward the opposite spectrum; craft nights with the cat ladies. I just want to make one cutesy book about my memories in Europe. I've saved all the useless ticket stubs, train passes, museum pamphlets and the memories are constantly collecting dust in the recesses of my mind. Pretty soon I won't even remember who were in the pictures. I just hate the thought of actually scrapping. Sounds so old, lame, girly, waste of time, but I don't give a scrap.

12. Lights, camera, action.
It doesn't have to be Lawrence of Arabia, but just a short film a month Anything about anything will do. I just need to get behind a camera and commit to editing the footage. Or tackle the hours of footage I already have. Just one a month. This month is almost up sooo I'll start next month. 

 

13. You've got to Move It Move It!
I've been in Redding living with my parents for way too long. I keep thinking someone will discover my awesomeness and hire me on the spot for some crazy job traveling around the world. My only hesitation in moving is that I don't feel like I've made my mark on this darn town. I'm still a small fish in a tiny pond. Well I wasn't always small. I used to be the big Redding tennis star. Maybe I should have left it at that and never came back. Now if feels like I'm trying to recreate myself. I'll have to talk to my therapist about that. I have about 6 months before my boyfriend leaves to complete his education. It's not confirmed if I will follow, but I do love the thought of moving to S.F. I've always wanted to live in this amazing city.

Isn't it beautiful?

13 resolutions is enough. It's doable. Also, 13 is my favorite number and it matches the year. So if luck would have it all should go smoothly.... unfortunately luck is a conniving bitch who gives luck to people in my life that I can't stand. Damn you luck! I said I was sorry. Anywho. This year is up to me. This time next year this list will be all checked off and I'll finally have a new list of resolutions.

 

Friends shmends

A part of my 90 days plan to success one of my goals is to improve my social life. I can no longer avoid networking if I going to be putting my services out to the public. I've never been a huge socialite. I wouldn't say I'm anti-social, but I wouldn't say I'm social. I like the few friends I've made over my lifetime and don't pursue finding any others. I think friends procure naturally. It is about your circumstances. Right now I don't have any friends. I'd love to blame my circumstances, so I will. If I wasn't living in the small minded sexist town I would be able to make friends. But due to circumstances I just don't have any. I don't really feel like I long for friends. Well yesterday I was talking to a friend, ok it was my counselor (aka paid pretend friend, which counts by the way) and mentioned my need to network and be social. I said I'm just not intrinsically motivated to interact with others and create relationships. My friend disagreed. She said everyone has a little intrinsic desire to have friends. Then I said jokingly, "ahhh I'm so lonely". She just nodded. Whoa! What?! That shut me up. I did the uhhh pshhh uuughhh phssshhh squirm for a little while before I could regain my composure. Lonely?! Really?! I asked her, "Do I come off as some pathetic loser looking for friends?!" She replied, "That's not what I said." Then I got defensive. I tried to prove I was making an effort. Ok Ok. Well I did swing by my sister's best friends birthday party before work, and not only because there was amazing food there and I was starving . After I stacked my plate I sat down into a bee swarm of menial conversation. Here is what the busy bees were saying.

1st bee: John is sooo cute with his new haircut.
2nd bee: Omg I know.
3rd bee: Ummm no guys, John is a dick. Remember he is a dick. (she obviously in love with him)
2nd bee: Oh ya he's a major dick. Totally. (Doesn't care as long as she is talking about boys)
1st bee: Uhhh ya. (not so secretly she still wants to bang John)
2nd bee: Omg I love this.
1st bee: What talking bad about people?
2nd bee: Uh ya. I mean no. Well ya a little.

I wanted shoot myself in the face... even though I definitely think the world could do without 3 dumb bees (haha I'm so funny. Friends... pshhh I entertain myself). This just justifies why I don't need or want friends. Right? Luckily, I was only there for 20 minutes which included 4 more gossip convos I had to sit through. Who needs this shit?! Right. Well my "friend" said those aren't the people you will become friends with. That's all there seems to be in this town though. So I asked my friend if she had any friends, "You are young and professional do you have trouble finding female friends?" Well in college I had friends, but they aren't here. So um yes." Well looks who's lonely now?! Still me. Even my boyfriend agreed with her. "What? I have you, my love." He retorted, "But when I'm not around. You need friends. They are important to have." Ok I got it. So I'm starting my search for female friends. I'm being specific because I never seem to have a problem making male friends (ew not like that). So these next 30 days will be my take on "I love you, woman". But less cool and probably more crying. Let the hunt begin. Will you be my buddy?

Christmas gifts

My favorite thing about Christmas is creating the perfect present. The perfect gift is one that is personal, creative, and makes the recipient cry. This is that gift. It only took 20 hours, but totally worth those Christmas tears. This is an album of me and my sister's adventure in Europe. These are some of my favorite sister memories. I hope that some day we can have another adventure equally as awesome.

Click here to view this photo book larger

Art Flop?

I did it. My first art venue. My artwork was featured in an art event where I had my very own venue to fill with anything I wanted. Second Saturday Art Night is put on by the Shasta Arts Council in Redding and every second Saturday of the month from 5-8pm local artists are featured at participating businesses around town. It is free and anyone can drive around town and look at art and enjoy the appetizers. I enjoyed being an observer at these events and was encouraged to be one of the artists of the month. 

So tonight I did it. I had my artwork up at a local real estate company which was located in a prime spot for the Art Hop. From 5-8pm I talked to guests and did my best to schmooze (so that's how you spell it), which is not one of my best qualities. Luckily, the wine helped bring down a few walls. Most people who came in gave me positive responses and encouragement. Everything went without a hitch. People came, ate, drank, saw, and then it was over. It went smoothly. So why am I fighting back tears? Why do I feel so discouraged? Why do I feel like I've just been intimate with someone who doesn't even remember my name? It's not like I had a bad experience. It's like I'm laying in bed naked while a stranger tells me, "hey you're pretty good kid. I'll see ya around." and then walks out the door. I didn't fail. I satisfied. Didn't I? But it was a one night stand not love at first sight. As I left the venue and headed over to meet my boyfriends family at a near by bar to listen to some live music the feeling started to sink in. Am I loveable? Am I good enough to love? I sat down at our table and I felt like I was drifting. Somber waves were coming over me. At first I didn't know what was happening. I had fun tonight. Right? Why do I instantly feel alone? Why do I feel so small? I just accomplished something. I had an art show. I am getting my name out there. I'm networking. I told myself it's not about about selling anything even though I desperately hoped I would. Wait... I did sell something, but my boyfriend's mom doesn't count. That's like a sympathy sale. I want to be loved. As my party leaves the bar I'm left alone at a big table listening to the soothing yet sad voice of a touring Swedish folk singer. I try fight the tears that are attempting to stain my face. This singer performing is trying to be loved just like I attempted. I love her. I think it would be harder to sing my way into love than just hang it on the walls. Even though there are die hard fans for singers rather than artists; The Beatles, Elvis, Katy Perry. No one buys 300 dollar tickets and waits all day crammed with 100,000 people to see a photo shoot with Annie Lebovitz... who's that? My point exactly. But singing is never ending. You don't get to hang it on the wall and be finished.

I hate the feeling that my surroundings are the only thing holding back the well that is close to overflowing. I know that once I leave the table and walk outside my body will release what small restraint it had left. This knowledge makes me stay. A small part of me wants to get the crying over with. I just want to purge myself of this emotion. I notice a tip jar on the stage. I want to encourage this artist. I decide I'll tip her before I leave. I don't know what is keeping me at this bar all alone listening to music from this folk singer who is keeping my emotions raw. Then the singer says she's had bad days. She tells us and by us I think she is speaking only to me, that her dad once told her that being a successful artist isn't how many cds you sell or how many states you tour in that it is about never giving up. Nothing could have been more perfect and horrifying to hear in that moment. I don't know why that when you are upset that those perfect words that you needed to hear make you more emotional instead of cheer you up. Now I really wanted out of there to let the flood invade my face. I waited till she was done to give her a 10 dollar tip. I didn't want to tip her that much, but I felt that I should. I knew it would be a little encouragement and that any amount of encouragement as an artist can make a difference between pressing on and giving up. I made it to my car before I broke down. It's just so hard and vulnerable pursuing art. As I drove I tried to suck it up, as if tears make you more sad so if you fight the tears the emotion will be defeated. When that didn't work I thought maybe if I just sob and heave then it will get out of my system sooner. I decided to purge, but I refrained from compounding my pain with pity using examples of how hard my life is right now; I have no money, I'm not good enough, I'm still battling an injury, I live at home, woe is I. I refused to take pity on myself. I don't want to wallow. I want to get whatever this emotion is far away from me. I'm hoping that I will run out of tears and exhaust myself into indifference. I make it home just at the peak of my despair. As I turn my car off and put my head on the steering wheel my dog, Vive, jumps onto my window. She is so excited to see me. Doesn't she realize I'm having a breakdown. As she jumps frantically around my car searching for a way to reach me my mind shifts. It feels great to have a friendly face who doesn't care about how my day went. She is just so happy I'm home. Laughter starts to permeate through my sobs before it over takes them. Now I'm just laughing. This stupid dog has robbed me of my despair. It's over. I pick myself up and walk inside. It's not about how many pieces I sell or who likes my art, it's that I never give up. I won't give up.

Pooping Rainbows

I had my first art show. I've put my art up in Starbucks and been in a church bazaar, but nothing where I was with other artists at a venue centered around art. The show was at a local bar called Maxwells which promotes local musicians and artists from time to time. The way this came about was that a friend was talking to my sister about an art show she was trying to get together and was looking for some new artists to feature. Well my lovely sister mentioned she should include me. Fortunately, I was standing near by and agreed to it immediately.

I've always done photography and tried some art classes here and there, but never imagined myself as an artist. Artists can draw for one. My handwriting isn't even legible and if you can't draw letters what hope is left for everything else. Some people assume I can draw because I'm creative in other ways until they are on my team in pictionary and they quickly learn when you assume you make a loser out of you and me.

Anywho. Another reason I never considered an art path was because I figured if you were good fame and recognition would naturally follow. Since I'm clearly not famous (except when I'm mistaken for Megan Rapinoe) that must mean I'm not good enough. I wanted to know what would make me good enough. So as I spent some time getting to know my art professors. I realized that there is much more to art than just being naturally awesome. No one will ever know how good you are if you keep all your work in the studio. This shouldn't have come as a shock. I guess I figured I'd just be dead when my grandchildren stumbled upon my great works and they made millions with my instant popularity. So what if I want fame before I die? Well... promotion. Art is about promotion. Just like in any industry it's all about who you know. This was disheartening. I think I like the glamor when I'm dead thing more. Promoting myself requires interaction with others. Interaction with others. It's not that I don't play nice with others. It's just that I don't play nice with others. I have a low tolerance for small talk so I avoid it. This means I avoid most basic human interactions. Now you can try to analyze why I'm like this. Oh she is insecure, homeschool didn't develop her social skills, she's an elitist, just too cool for everyone, ect. I think some people just aren't social. Not antisocial. I'm not a recluse. I just don't bullshit very well. Now I'm learning that if I want to become successful I have to bullshit all the time. Now some of you wouldn't call promoting yourself or networking bullshitting, but then maybe it comes natural to you so it doesn't feel like you are trying to poop rainbows. For me networking feels like I'm working. Work where I try to convince you I'm a valuable asset to you and if we work together it will benefit you some way. For me it feels fake. I can't narrow down my interactions with people I enjoy conversing with. Now need to include everyone because you never know what or who someone knows. How does this not feel forced, fake, bullshit? How do you know if people even enjoy talking to each other or if they are just trying to sell themselves? This just doesn't seem fair. Why do some people get the naturally ability to network while others get anxiety over the thought of it?

OK. Back on topic. So promoting myself is a challenge. I'm trying to stay humble while convince you I'm awesome... because I am awesome (shameless promotion through blog). Over the past few months I've tried to "promote" myself, which has lead me to this art show. Well technically my sister promoted me, but thats what networking is about... right? After I got secured as an artist to the art show I've been preparing all my work. Picking out new pictures to get printed. Buying new frames. Learning how to build my own frames, cut out mattes (ruined 3 before I just went out and bought the right size), and how to hang a piece. Then a week before the show I get a DJ gig. It's always like that. Every weekend is free then two events on the same night. Now it was art show or DJ gig? Both! I had a feeling I wouldn't make it to the art show and I was secretly relieved. First there's no feeling like no one is buying your art. Second socializing. It was my two greatest stressors together and I wasn't going to be too upset if the DJ gig went too long. So the morning of I set up my art. There was 3 of us and it still took 2 hours. Now off to the DJ gig where I attempted to promote myself... "ummm can I give you some business cards?" Ya real confident. Now for this wedding the couple had a strict play by playlist going between their Ipad and dvd player. Most people don't realize that what you want to hear in your house or jamming in your car isn't always what you want to hear on the dance flour. During the 30 minutes of live Bruce Springsteen playing on the dvd player people started to complain. Now I had a feeling this would happen, but I always want to respect my clients wishes. Well they threw out their wishes and gave me a please fix it plea. Unfortunately, all I had was their iPad and my iPhone to work with. Luckily I'm a damn good DJ and I was able to hurry and put together all the dance music. You say you don't like Michael Jackson, but then you hear it on the dance floor and notice everyone else dancing and then you just happen to know all the words to "Beat It". The party at first looked like it was winding down and I get out early and make the art show. Thank you Springsteen. Then my awesomeness intervened and I went past our scheduled time. It's a pride thing. If you are dancing then I'm doing my job and let's be honest, how sad was I really going to be for missing the awkward art show. Even though I did want to see my art up on the wall again. It looked pretty darn good. Oh bummer I didn't make it. Nothing sold, but at least I didn't have to be there hoping some big art connoisseur was going to join the party during the last 30 minutes. Also, none of the other artists sold anything either. Well hello misery so glad you could join us. I have a couple more things lined up, but I'm afraid discouragement is going to kick in soon. Tell then I'll just keep trying to poop rainbows.

Elder Abuse?

Do you remember that scene in "Happy Gilmore" when Happy's grandma gets put into a rest home where they use the elderly as free labor and one of the "nurses" (Ben Stiller) continues to berate and belittle everyone. Well it's not exactly like that, but close. Close enough that my heart hurts from the way that my grandma is being treated. Now she isn't forced to knit sweaters or run a hamster wheel, instead all her dignity is stripped and she is left immobile in her tiny apartment only to come out when it's feeding time. She used to live in her own house with a yard, living room, two bedrooms, a kitchen, backyard, in a small community where when she walked her dog friendly faces would wave at her. It was my uncle's idea to move her. He said that she wasn't stable enough to live on her own. Regrettably she is losing her memory. She isn't forgetting places or faces, but short-term conversations. She will tell me the same story 3 times within 10 minutes. I just let her tell it. Or I'll help her finish it. Or say what a great story it is. I have an overwhelming amount of patients with my grandma. This should be considered normal to some people, but sense I have absolutely no patience for anything else it is my only time to see this virtue at it's peak performance. Back to gma. I completely understand being concerned for your ailing parent. You don't want to worry that she will fall or something will happen and no one will be there. So you would think that the "retirement home" (old people hotel) would have nurses on staff or a daily caretaker, or someone around to check on her, making sure she is taking her pills, coming to meals, keeping up with hygiene. Otherwise what is the point of moving her all the way across town! Further away from the only grandchildren who visit her. Further away from town. Only closer to death. Not only did my uncle move her without my consent he did it without my mother's. Unfortunately, before my gpa died he assigned my uncle as my gma's caretaker. Supposedly he has last say. Not sure if it's officially documented somewhere, but for his sake I hope it is. But for now he moved her into this small sterile retirement center as far out of town as it could be while still being in the same zip code. Before it would take me 10 minutes to get to my grandma's and then another 10 to take her into town. Now it takes me close to 30 and another 15 to get back into town. I know what you might be thinking, "shouldn't I be glad that there are people around her to take care of her so I don't have to worry?" Well I would be comforted if that were the case. But no one comes and checks on her. She doesn't have a weekly or monthly doctor that gives her checkups. If she misses a meal no one goes to see if she is ok. If she falls or hurts herself no one will know. I'm more worried about her now than I ever was. Before she was always eager to get out of the house. We'd go out for lunch or we'd cook dinner or cookies. Now all I can do is bring a take n bake pizza out to the only over in the facilities "activity" room. Due to what they are feeding her she is putting on weight. She just sits in front of the tv and waits for meal time. How is this the way to treat your mother?

Now for the worst part... my Aunt. She is my uncle's second wife that he married secretly because he knows how much the whooooole family hates her. Detest might be a better word. You know that teacher in Harry Potter that worked for the Ministry. Professor Umbridge I think it was. She would show up in her pink tweed outfit with her high pitched giggles and cat portraits and terrorize the students. That's this lady. Her outer demeanor might seem genuine if you are either an idiot or a Death Eater. The worst part is that she calls my gma mom. This demon calls my gma something only saved for my mom and the few daughters-in-laws that have earned it. She calls her mom, but then treats her like a child. A slow-witted child. She finds away to take away all my grandma's independence and dignity with a smile on her face and a concerned tone. For example, my gma gets her hair done at JcPenny's ya they have a salon in there. Well instead of letting my gma pay for her new do when she is done the witch tells the salon worker's to wait for her supervision before my gma can pay. I mean how could she mess up handing over someone a credit card. So they summon Lord Voldemort over to take my gma's credit card and hand it to them. Really? Then last week my gma passed out and was taken to the emergency room at noon. My mom wasn't called till 5pm. Now if you are 20 and you pass out you might not call everyone to scare them, but when an 83 year old passes out something could be fatal. I understand my mom's rage when she found out. Even though my mom tried to calm herself she was obviously upset when she said that she needed to be called immediately next time. Acceptable I'd say. Well Ursala says to my sister, "oh wow does your mom nag you all the time too?" So you might be thinking... Aspergers disease? I mean while else would she think she could talk shit about my mother to my sister. So maybe she is more like those dumb laughing hyenas in "The Lion King"*
You might be wondering why this women is always around harassing my gma. Well did I mention my gma is rich. I don't know how rich, but rich enough to start checking my gma's pills to make sure nothing deadly is slipped in Sometimes my family will call and Jiffar answers the phone and says my gma isn't feeling well and to make it a quick conversation. I've even seen a note that Scar left by the toilet that read "Wipe from front to back -Love Lucifer". The first time I saw it  I immediately ripped it down and threw it away. How degrading is that? I wish I could wipe my ass on that women's face. Well the next time I was there the sign was up again. "She who shall not be named" took it out of the garbage and posted it up again. She didn't know it was me that took it down. My gma could have been disgusted and embarrassed and took it down herself. Where is the decency? So this time when I ripped down the side I peed on it. Wiped with it from front to back... cause it really is the only way to wipe. Then I threw it away uuuughain. Then today there it was again sitting on the sink. With my pee stains all over it. I just had to laugh. Laugh cause Satan touched my pee and probably didn't wash her hands before eating. My pee is in her mouth. I did wipe my ass with her face. I didn't have a bowel movement coming so I just threw it away again. Even though it was my own pee I still picked it up with a tissue. Gross.

 Ok this is the last thing. Big thing. Today I went to take my gma shopping and out to dinner. I know she likes JcPenny's. Gotta love those bargains. I even had picked out a nice restaurant for us too. I was excited. I get to her prison and she can't find her credit cards. Sinking feeling. Not just cause my gma usually insists on paying for dinner, but because I knew it had reached a new stage of dependency. Sure enough she calls my uncle to ask where her cards are and I can hear him tell her that he just gave her money. So I guess the new system is that he gives her a $20 every now and then and holds on to her credit card. Yep. Now the dream team has total control over her finances. She can't even go shopping. I'm livid. How does this guy with his devil wife get away with this? The worst part is that they have made her feel like she can't handle it and that they are doing her a favor. Oh "mom" we will hold on to your credit cards for you so you don't lose them when you sit on the couch watching tv not allowed to go anywhere with your grandchildren. Besides btween the couch and the bathroom where you wipe front to back you might unintentionally donate all your money to the Obama's.

Can something be done? I still take my gma shopping. I mean it's JcPenny's even I can buy her something there. Of course she is no longer in the mood to shop like most people are when they realize that their wallet has just been stolen. I buy her some See's candies and we combine her $20 allowance with mine to get some decent dinner. No one will stop me from enjoying time with my gma, but someone is taking away her joy and I don't know what to do. I tell my mom to step in, but she get's too emotional. I hate this. I hate it when people no longer fend for themselves. When they let go cause others have told them that they can't take care of themselves. I hope some day soon that... ummm... darn I'm running out of evil villans... Darth Vader's spawn throws her into a nursing home to wither and mold while someone with bad breath and cold hands changes her burlap diaper.





*the reason all my examples are from movies are:
1. I love movies
2. my bf says my analogies are usually terrible so when I use them I try to stick with what I know

Surviving

Every time life lifts up my head to grab a few breaths something dark and unknown comes and dunks my head under water. I'm back to gasping, flailing, sinking. All I want is a deep breath. To fill my lungs with fresh air. To my chest expand as I take in my source of life. Why most I thrash in dark murky waters fearing what is lurking underneath? This is my life as an artist.

It's Friday and I get a call from a frantic friend who just got screwed over by another friend she hired for a promo video she wanted. He didn't tell her his fee till 2 days before the event and it was way outside her budget and outside what the guy deserves. She needed a videographer tomorrow! Of course being the kind of person that hates to see others sink in the same pool of anxiety I agreed to help. She couldn't pay much, (but enough to pay this months bills) and it was for her wood-fire pizza catering.... soooo free pizza! This was my first little breath. The video shoot went great. Best pizza I've had since Europe and the video turned out pretty good as well. The next day I edited it and kept on working on it all week. I was also setting up my pictures at galleries and getting ready for an art festival. I was finally doing it. I wasn't making exactly the money I wanted yet, but I was still surviving. I was afloat. 

Then somewhere in the dark deep waters something started moving. I felt something brush my leg. I couldn't tell what it was. It was such a good morning. I was taking breathes, not full breathes, but enough to satisfy. I dropped off my boyfriend at work and then was headed to the river trail to walk my dog then visit my grandma. I was in a good mood. Then there it was. The shark. I saw him too late. I was headed straight for him. I tried to slow down, but it was too late. Red and Blue lights were flashing and the sound of the enemy was blaring. All hope was lost. Motorcycle cop. My breath had left me. I'm gasping. I'm going to suffocate. How can this be happening? I was doing so well. Things were finally looking up. As I'm trying to calm myself I also having to keep my dog from growling. Nothing I did or said helped soften to beasts heart. Not even my puppy who went from growling to panting and being pet by the evil one. I just sat in my car and cried. Cried for what I had lost. Cried for a slip in judgement. I know when I'm trying to speed, but this time I had no where to be. Just a carefree day. I couldn't believe I was going as fast as he said. I tried to understand. If I was in my own car and not my boyfriends would I have been going that fast? I drive a stick and it takes me a little longer to pick up speed. If maybe I had pleaded and apologized more to the creature on his black horse. If my puppy hadn't growled at first. If... if... if... it was too late. I had the ticket in my hands and the discouragement in my heart. Why?!! I've never seen a cop there before. I'm hardly driving this car. All is lost and I should just give up. I've never cried getting a ticket before. Mostly I'm just pissed. I usually get over it and move on. But sometimes you are in this place where you are so close to the edge that anything might send you over. You are stranded in the ocean and you are finally gaining your strength back from your last crash to keep your head above water. It's just when the waters seem to calm that another wave comes crashing down on you. It hits like a car crash. You don't know which way is up. The whole time you are wondering will I make it to the surface before I drown. Where's the surface? My arms and legs are moving, but I'm not going anywhere. I'm drowning. 

Even though my mind has given up my body takes over and refuses to quit. I can't control it. My lungs are telling my body what to do. Swim. Swim. I notice that the water is getting lighter. That must be the top. It looks so far away. Breath. I survived. I'm exhausted. I can hardly stay afloat, but that little breath was enough to keep me alive. This is my life as an artist.