But I Know What I Like

It’s Friday night. I’m home and drunk off my ass on self-induced medications. Damn shoulder’s getting worse and I fear I’ll have to break down soon and go in to the doctor’s. With all my previous damage, I know I’ll be told I need to get pins put in it.
Feh.



That was my completely non-relevant lead-in to today’s rant: ART.

I'm a voyeur with art- I like it, I appreciate it, but I have little ability to pull my imagination into a tangible form. I’ve dabbled in various forms of art- poetry, sketching, lamp-making (“UGLIEST FUCKING THING E-V-E-R!!!”), writing, and more. My problem is not so much a lack of talent; it’s a lack of motivation. I think my muse is closely related to Rip Van Winkle and only arises for brief periods between lengthy, extended gaps. Once I do become inspired, I must immediately leap upon my idea before my motivation stagnates and withers.
The cause of my dilemma may lay in that art is about expressing yourself. And I am a very closed person. Even the people who know me well only are allowed in so far. To be able to open your soul so much and let anyone see inside the person you are… that is too… “trusting” isn’t the right word, but it’s good enough.

It wasn't until I moved to Sacramento that I began to surround myself with artistically talented people: Red, Suzy, all the Jessicas, Ryan, Kali, Megan, Matt, Ray- painting, crafts, jewelry, clothing, graphics, writing, singing, sketching, pottery, photography, music, and more.

I am in awe of your talents, and even more of your gift to express yourselves.