For the Record, I am not Georgia O'Keeffe

Well, that exercise we did today was interesting to say the least. For those of you who weren't there, we spent ninth period doing abstract charcoal drawings and every so often having others analyze the emotions expressed. First of all, I'd never worked with charcoal before and I immediately fell in love with the medium. But that's probably the most superficial thing I got out of the exercise.

The first drawing I did was described as 'sassy and angry', which I wasn't expecting but can't help but laugh about. I usually try not to use the word 'sassy', just because I feel like it's lost a lot of meaning in the public vernacular, but I suppose in it's true form I could be described as such. And, well, I know I can sometimes be described as angry, but I feel like in those times I am much more extroverted than is the norm for me. And I enjoy the feeling of extroversion, no matter how temporary, so while it might sound strange, I find myself to get a strange rush of pleasure when I get passionately angry about something. So, overall, hearing sassy and angry as a description of my piece and then as a description of me was some form of gratification that I haven't exactly figured out yet.

The second drawing I did started out as someone I have an issue with. The thing is, the reason I have an issue with this person is because, while we are very similar, these similarities are ones that I am not proud of and they seem to almost flaunt. So, I think that says something in itself about the nature of what I was doing. But, by the time mine was being discussed, it had turned a bit from the person I was angry at to the anger I felt and still feel towards our similarities. That turned into an anger and dissatisfaction with myself.

When I changed the orientation of what I was doing 180 degrees, suddenly I found myself in a different part of the piece. I was no longer the ball on the inside or the shading casting itself down upon it, but the lines surrounding it. I think that when we changed the orientation, it was supposed to become a more positive experience and lend a rebirth to the piece and the artist themself. That's not what happened for me. When I became this new part, the entire thing took a darker turn. Without consciously realizing it, I was drawing myself as a shield to the ball of energy in the middle. Looking back at the piece now compared to how I went about building it, I was letting myself do what felt right without questioning it. When I started rubbing in this mild darkness that slowly became think black lines near the edges, I was doing it because of what and how I felt about the lines and the balls and energy I associated with it. It felt right. Now that I've spent time looking at it, I can see a lot of deeper meaning than what I realized I was doing as I went about making it. It's much more personal now. When I was making it, I felt fine with showing it, but now I feel so exposed by it. I think that exposing feeling is what makes me want to keep it though.

That 'Yes' Feeling

My mom has always told me I am my worst critic. I agree with her to an extent, but that doesn't make me any more confident in my work. It is what it is. I feel like teens aren't criticized enough in what they do. Adults assume that 'it's good for their age group', and thus they never fairly critique the rather immature work. I prefer what I do to be put up against adults' and given honest feedback because even though I know it's not nearly as good as what the people I look up to are putting up, I'm going to be an adult sooner or later and I want to get better now rather than to learn the hard way of suddenly finding out what I've been doing my entire life was bollocks. I aspire to be 'great', and I know I have to start yesterday. That's why I question myself so deeply. Because no one else has the kahunas to tell me what I'm doing wrong, I take it upon myself. I sleep with Bukowski and Siken next to my pillow because if I can't sleep, that's what I'd want myself to go to. I go to garage sales and pick up the books and movies I've heard reviews of for a few bucks apiece because I want to have the opportunity to learn from them. I want to be able to see the intricacies of language and hear what makes a record spectacular. I want to know why I love the things I love. I want to have the tools to root out what that 'yes' feeling for me entails.

My favorite music video I've ever seen is It's About Time by Barcelona. I have irritated my close friends multiple times by gushing about its raw symbolism and how I've taken that approach in my own life and therefore my work. I showed it to Lex a couple weeks ago, and she said she understood it but when I asked her questions about it she couldn't seem to find answers. What they are talking about has been so clear to me since the first time I watched it, such that I feel a bit dumb saying it's my favorite music video because it doesn't reserve a lot of thinking for me. I don't think it's right for someone to be criticized for what they enjoy, but since I serve as a walking contradiction, I still feel this way towards myself.

When we got the assignment, I immediately thought of this music video. How could I possibly make a film about a relationship when I already have a favorite video about a relationship?
 I wrote out the script almost immediately. Well, I saw the project, took a nap, and then wrote it out, so a lot didn't happen in between. Originally, an angel tricked a boy into falling in love with her, although the angel knows she can't love him back. I have an entire description of what it originally looked like here, but I want to say right now that this is not how I'd explain the final project at all, mostly because a lot of the symbolism got lost during filming and also because having to be behind the camera is hard.
 I think I subconsciously chose this song to be used for my film before I formally acknowledged it. I think the song has wound itself so deeply into what I consider a relationship that it was the only option I felt right about. I had that yes feeling.

Because I had this song in the back of my mind throughout the entire project, I think the story became more about the song than the actual story I originally wrote out. Especially as time went on and as I spent more time dwelling on what exactly I wanted. I feel like it has a music video vibe to it, which I'm not exactly proud of, but overall I am putting this up and this is what I did and I'm proud of myself for getting it done.

Anyways, here you go.

You Are Not the Voice in My Head

The older I get, the more I think that problems stem from issues of identity, and that solutions to them do not lie in psychology but rather philosophy, and more important, spirituality. The spirituality of which I write isn't to be confused with religion and god. I use the word spirituality as a term to reference the relationship one has with that which is bigger than one's self, the relationship one has with The Divine, which is to say What Has Come Before and What Will Come After, the relationship one has with the concept of life across time.

Art (you being an artist) is one of the ways in which we connect with our spirituality, with our relationship with The Divine.

My first response to this was a genuine 'Wow'. Reading this helped me realize how disjointed I have been with my spirituality as of late and how that has affected me and (arguably) more importantly, my art. Last year, I was very involved in my beliefs and ideas about things like the afterlife, the untangible way we have relationships with others, and other things that are not invisible but only present in another facet of our minds and other realms. The play I put up for StacNight last year was very much influenced by these ideas, along with a confusion of whether I was doing enough in my day to day life not only physically but mentally.
I've been subconsciously trying to decode my Koan for months now. At this point, I think it's 'Is it Enough?'. This is how I've approached a lot of things, and even if it isn't my Koan, it's a question that has been present in my life for quite some time. The Koan, for those of you who don't know, is a very mental, very untangible mess of not only thinking but feeling. The relationship between thinking and feeling is how I personally define philosophy. The head versus the heart, only it's not a fight looking for a winner.
As I've said, my relationship with all of this train of thought had been lost for months. Now that I feel that it's back, I feel more comfortable explaining what it was like without it. I think a good place to start is by saying that my relationship with the afterlife is very integral to who I am and how I view and percieve things. Believing in an afterlife helps me come to terms with the life around me. I've said before that I'm afraid of endings, and I suppose that's related to this. While I don't think of myself as a religious person, I do view myself as agnostic. I believe there's something out there, something that lets us cling to existence and something that gives me a reason to keep clinging. But, for awhile, my views shifted towards atheism. The idea that there is nothing scares me the most, so while I didn't want to believe it, I couldn't stop myself. I didn't have a reason to keep clinging. But I still did.
While mental health definitely holds a role in being suicidal, I feel like it was only gas for me. It fueled, but it wasn't the first spark that lit the flame. It was my loss of belief. In September, I cut ties with one of my best friends. And while it was the right thing to do, it was still hard. I felt like this person put me down and made me feel unreasonably like less of a person. Things were happening in my life already at that point and feeling this way the last straw. Why would a power that I had already accepted was bigger than me only make me feel smaller? So I squashed the higher ruler and put myself on the same level as everyone else. Somehow, that only made me worse.
People make it sound like going down in this fashion is a spiral, but it was slower than that. It was like when you're on an escalator, and you can see that you're slowly but surely going down, so you watch as the levels change. I, for one, have always slowly tipped my head up as I go down, keeping my eyes steady on where I once was, only to look down quickly before I realize I need to step off. I find it interesting how when I go back up on an escalator, instead of looking where I'm coming from, I only look up at where I'm going to be.
Putting myself on the same level as others took away that drive to better myself. I realize now. I need something to look up to. I also need something bigger than me to feel protected while I'm doing it. I rely on the positivity of others and while I know it presents issues on other levels, I've realized it's just who I am. While I don't feel exactly like the person I was last year, I feel more versed and justified in why I feel the way I feel. I know I'm not a healthy person, but I'm not so afraid of it anymore. And right now, that's enough.
NOTE: I feel like it's important not only for others to have the ability to know how I feel, for instance writing on this blog instead of my personal one, but for me to have a positive outlet to express these feelings. Some of the things I write on here are important for me to be able to say to those around me everyday. While I always invite to ponder, I'm not demanding a response to every single thing. I, for one, know how hard it can be to talk about depression without putting your own experiences into it and that can be hard to talk about. I feel like it's just easier to understand my thought process as a whole with these pieces of background information, so that's why I include them.