Nautilus hairdo.  Hello, it’s been a strange time and I have not been drawing or writing but it seems as though I’ve been seeing the way I used to (everything is a painting, every line is alive, light, color, shiny objects, over enthusiastic descriptives) and maybe that is a good start. I’ve been essentially exhausted since the end of October. So tired yesterday that my want for sleep conquered my crippling fear of turbulence and flying in general. Who’d have thought! I was so tired that I couldn’t bother with being afraid. It is like this comic:   that is so wonderful and so relevant and so “yess”, in that it got so bad I became apathetic about it and it no longer had effect on me. Sometimes apathy with things can be horrible, but in this case it was “fuck you fear, I’m sleeping.” So so so yeah. I’ve sort of learned more about myself in the last month than I thought possible in an entire handful of years. Sometimes you move very very slowly and then all the sudden experiences rain down upon you and you’re forced to reevaluate your stance on yourself. Like my fear of flying I found myself so exhausted, so unable to deal with the anxiety that comes with all of the newness that I relented and accepted it. Once again I’ve arrived at a new self. How many version of myself have there been? and shouldn’t I be made to apologize to everyone who had known my other selves?  Perhaps another post will be a better one to discuss this (and know I’m writing here because here are about 1/15th of the followers from BG, and here I am not afraid to write anything that is less than elegant, aka, unthought, aka livejournal.) It seems I must rationalize my experiences and describe them with nice words but again I’m too tired for that. And perhaps I was never clever enough to do so to begin with!  Another anxiety beyond just posting not-eloquent sentences is that when I post an image depicting myself, what you will think of not how I look in it, but of me for indulging myself through the act of posting an image of myself, as if to say “I am worth looking at!” and all of the negative connotations that come from thinking so of yourself.  But this is really, in reality, an issue of confidence that is rooted to caring exactly what people think of me. We all do this of course. But for some reason my upbringing taught me to court favorable opinion to a fault, to the point that it has nearly divided me at the core. Appear Presentable and Be Humble are two that seem to battle constantly. I feel it is my duty to appear in one way or another attractive, at the same time I feel it is my duty to never acknowledge this, to not speak of it, and to not even find myself attractive even in the farthest most corner of my consciousness. This comes from a mix of really taking catholicism to heart, in particular the Franciscan sort of Catholicism, and from being the only girl in the family and the daughter of a mother who wanted nothing more than a pretty little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes whom she could endlessly apply dresses upon. I don’t blame her or my faith of course, but it does make for an interesting opinion of myself. I must constantly improve myself and constantly deny myself that I am anything but entirely ordinary (which of course, should be fine, but of course is never enough). I don’t know why I am talking about it. I suppose because it is an issue in terms of romantic affection because I tend to fend off compliments the way St. George fended off that dragon. They make me uncomfortable! and this makes me an unconfident companion, which is silly and should not be! Does anyone else have this problem? Shouldn’t I adore myself? The catholic in me would never stand for it! Nor would the insanely shy self-loathing 5th grade version of myself!  I don’t know! So here is a photo of myself and here is the hope that someday a moral battle will not be waged in my head before I post one of these. I should self document because it’d be funny to someday show my offspring how crazy I was. On the other hand… well, yeah. 

Nautilus hairdo. 

Hello, it’s been a strange time and I have not been drawing or writing but it seems as though I’ve been seeing the way I used to (everything is a painting, every line is alive, light, color, shiny objects, over enthusiastic descriptives) and maybe that is a good start. I’ve been essentially exhausted since the end of October. So tired yesterday that my want for sleep conquered my crippling fear of turbulence and flying in general. Who’d have thought! I was so tired that I couldn’t bother with being afraid. It is like this comic:

 

that is so wonderful and so relevant and so “yess”, in that it got so bad I became apathetic about it and it no longer had effect on me. Sometimes apathy with things can be horrible, but in this case it was “fuck you fear, I’m sleeping.”

So so so yeah. I’ve sort of learned more about myself in the last month than I thought possible in an entire handful of years. Sometimes you move very very slowly and then all the sudden experiences rain down upon you and you’re forced to reevaluate your stance on yourself. Like my fear of flying I found myself so exhausted, so unable to deal with the anxiety that comes with all of the newness that I relented and accepted it. Once again I’ve arrived at a new self. How many version of myself have there been? and shouldn’t I be made to apologize to everyone who had known my other selves? 

Perhaps another post will be a better one to discuss this (and know I’m writing here because here are about 1/15th of the followers from BG, and here I am not afraid to write anything that is less than elegant, aka, unthought, aka livejournal.) It seems I must rationalize my experiences and describe them with nice words but again I’m too tired for that. And perhaps I was never clever enough to do so to begin with! 

Another anxiety beyond just posting not-eloquent sentences is that when I post an image depicting myself, what you will think of not how I look in it, but of me for indulging myself through the act of posting an image of myself, as if to say “I am worth looking at!” and all of the negative connotations that come from thinking so of yourself. 

But this is really, in reality, an issue of confidence that is rooted to caring exactly what people think of me. We all do this of course. But for some reason my upbringing taught me to court favorable opinion to a fault, to the point that it has nearly divided me at the core. Appear Presentable and Be Humble are two that seem to battle constantly. I feel it is my duty to appear in one way or another attractive, at the same time I feel it is my duty to never acknowledge this, to not speak of it, and to not even find myself attractive even in the farthest most corner of my consciousness. This comes from a mix of really taking catholicism to heart, in particular the Franciscan sort of Catholicism, and from being the only girl in the family and the daughter of a mother who wanted nothing more than a pretty little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes whom she could endlessly apply dresses upon. I don’t blame her or my faith of course, but it does make for an interesting opinion of myself. I must constantly improve myself and constantly deny myself that I am anything but entirely ordinary (which of course, should be fine, but of course is never enough). I don’t know why I am talking about it. I suppose because it is an issue in terms of romantic affection because I tend to fend off compliments the way St. George fended off that dragon. They make me uncomfortable! and this makes me an unconfident companion, which is silly and should not be! Does anyone else have this problem? Shouldn’t I adore myself? The catholic in me would never stand for it! Nor would the insanely shy self-loathing 5th grade version of myself!  I don’t know!

So here is a photo of myself and here is the hope that someday a moral battle will not be waged in my head before I post one of these. I should self document because it’d be funny to someday show my offspring how crazy I was. On the other hand… well, yeah.