The return of C?

7 08 2015

I went back to C for the second time. And he has strongly recommended that I go back to trauma therapy. That once a week or possibly twice would be good for me. Once a week I can agree with. And doing trauma work in the last year of grad school….could be good. Or it could be disastrous.  I haven’t decided what I’m going to do. I have a few weeks to mull things over. If I do the trauma work… I think I want to tape it. I want to document it for me to later use, in some way, to help me make art.

Or just to make a documentary about trauma recovery. I don’t know.

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Fantasy.

5 08 2015

I want Alexander Skarsgard to fuck me in drag.





Trying to write more

7 07 2015

It seems this road does wonder, meander even. What road, why the one of writing. I find myself straying and trying to stay the path, but really what keeps me from it is ultimately fear. And laziness. I’m afraid of what I might say, of the words or thoughts I might have. However I also find that when I go for long periods of time with out writing that my life does not seem to be real. This sort of dreamlike disassociation takes hold and everything is seen through the haze of a migraine, making me question my reality.

So I’ve decided to stop being lazy and stop being afraid of myself. So I’m going to try and set some goals for myself. Because goals are good right?

1. Write everyday: at least one line.

2. Post something at least once a week.

3. Let myself write about good things

4. Be an adult and get myself to the doctor to get back on meds

5. See if I can go back to C now that Obamacare and medicaid are better subsidized

6. If not C then find another place that specializes in ptsd

7. stop watching so much shit on the internet, youtube, tv, netflix, movies, hbo, learn limits and stick to them

8. be more committed to yoga

9. Go to the studio/draw/paint/everyday. Go to the studio when the shop is open so I can actually learn more joinery like I want.

10. Apply and enter into shows/contests.

Okay so there you go, words, thoughts, feelings. Okay. got some goals. Now to stick to them.





8 05 2015

Sometimes I tell people I have a migraine so I can stay home and masturbate all day.





Mistake

7 05 2014

You drove home
One more drink?
We talk theology
Passion rises as we kill our god
Minds expand as the night wanes
Falling into one another
I go to kiss you on your cheek
Your head turns
Ecstasy began
It was a dream so good
Better than it’d been in a long time

The sharp morning light
Cuts into my head
But your shadow
Still laid inside me
I open my eyes to kiss my husband

But you were there instead.

 





On my education

19 03 2014

When people tell me that there’s no such thing as sexism, misogyny, or racism any more- or even that we live in a post-racial world I think about my education.  

I think about how in elementary school we had to learn about the local tribes and do a big project in which I dressed up in an outfit as best as my mom could recreate to be close to the Caddo tribe as she could. I did a little diorama of what their village might have looked like based off of drawings in text books, and even made some kind of flat bread that was similar to something they might have eaten. But no where in my research at ten years old did I come across how they were driven to that area because they were trying to escape the white people’s expansion.  Yet a quick google search tells me that today. (yes I’m old so no the internet wasn’t a thing when I was in fourth grade, or at least not to some one of my socioeconomic standards.)

I think of black history month, where we would read the drinking gourd, and primarily focused on the underground rail road, and how Harriet Tubman was a hero, who I loved because she was so tough she even would hold a gun to her travelers if they thought about going back( I don’t know if that’s true or legend) . And then we learned about Fredrick Douglass and later W.E.B Dubois, about Martin Luther King Jr., but Malcolm X was never mentioned. George Washington Carver was always a favorite to do projects on, because you could always bring some sort of peanut-butter featured snack. 

But when it came to slavery in america, and the trail of tears, it was more or less, it happened and it was bad. Not a lot of detail went into it. I watched 12 Years a Slave and sad to say that I learned more from that movie than I did in school or on my own. When we talked about Abraham Lincoln, he was always painted in a light of a savior. Even though there was the whole 3/5ths law that we kinda pointed out but didn’t put much lecture time into, nor did we talk about Jim Crow. The closest we came to it was reading Maniac Magee in fifth grade and in junior high we read to kill a mocking bird. (Later in high school we read I Know Why The Cage Bird Sings, Black Boy,and I read Black Like Me which my father had some very upsetting things to say about, but that’s another thing entirely.)   

My point being that we didn’t read a variety of authors. When I think of the words, “coming of age” I think of a white boy. That’s the first thing that pops into my head. But at my high school, there were many people of color. Honestly POC might have even been the majority in some classes. And there certainly were many girls, but when we talked about a coming of age story, it was always a white boy. I Know Why the Cage Bird Sings is a coming of age story of sorts, and so is Rubyfruit Jungle (though I understand why, at a conservative school in Texas we didn’t read Rubyfruit)   Any way my point is that there wasn’t any investigation to multiple points of view in my early education, I suppose there was a little discussion in some classes, the first one I remember, was around that book Maniac Magee. And my teacher ended up saying some very racist things about how white people were more advanced in general. And I was confused by that but then did notice that pretty much every single person in that class was white or could pass. And honestly I don’t recall any other discussion on race, pretty much until I got into college, and then again, it was more a revealing of racism and bigotry this time particularly towards Catholics (with the implication of specifically POC Catholics).  The most that we got was a few lectures on Liberation Theology (I was a theology major). 

But even in my collegiate years, too often things were white washed. There was only one Black prof at my school, and he was an adjunct. It was weird going from a diverse public school to suddenly a predominately white college. I took diversity for granted, I didn’t think to consider that when choosing a college. (Though, I did have little choice in what school I went to) 

 

When I think back on the teachers that I had: Four were POC, every single one of my english teachers were women, until senior year of high school. 

 

And granted I know that a lot (everything) that we had to learn was based on curriculum but even so, I find it sad that education (liberal arts in particular) is so stifled and continues to promote the status quo (racism, oppression, marginalization) instead of inviting creativity, ingenuity, and breaking down world views, there needs to be more disruption, more rebellion. 

 

Pretty much there should always be more rebellion. 





Ahhhhh Freak out!: Grad app edition.

18 12 2013

Ugh. I’m just. I look at the work that I’m doing and one of my most recent ones, and all I can think is how disorganized it looks, how highschool it seems, seriously I feel like I am still just that angsty teenage girl. But that’s stupid and self blaming, and I know that I can do this, I have the backing of like a super legit artist, who’s one of my recommenders, so that’s awesome. But again when I look at everything, all I can think is why have I been so lazy, how am I not past this yet? Why is this so terrible? Why are those things so ugly. Even though whilst painting many of these things I specifically WANTED to make things that were ugly.That are unpleasant to look at. And then there’s the whole artist statement thing, and choosing which piece I want to be the “representative work”, and that needing to be all… ugh. I don’t know how to talk about my process with out sounding like a crazy person or talking about all the trauma that I’ve been through, but they don’t need to know that, I don’t WANT them to know those things off the bat. I don’t want them to know the extent of my PTSD, Bi polar, Depersonalization/relaztion disorders, or all the other “diagnosis” I’ve had. But if I don’t talk about at least some of that, I’m not talking about my work. And I have to talk about my work inorder to fill out the fucking forms. And I could just talk about my process, but it’s so intuitive it’s really confusing to put into words. I mean I literally prepare myself mentally to go to a place where I Remember what it feels like bodily. And then I’m like… but if that isn’t in the work, if that doesn’t come through then wtf? WTF? am I supposed to do? Seriously. I hate my life where I’m at right now, I ignore most of the things going on in my head, which makes me ignore the studio, which means I’m not making work, which means I’m not doing what I love, which makes me miserable.
I just… There’s only 16 pieces for this one portfolio and I have about 20 pieces to choose from. I thought I was good, I thought I was prepared I look at the statements at the questions asked, and I don’t understand.
How am I supposed to write a bio/artist/intent statement in 500 words? 500 words, seriously? That’s like a paragraph. I’m not a super concise person. My thoughts are not organized. I want to do this. I need to do this. But I don’t know if I can do this.