Feeling sorry for myself.
I talked to my oldest daughter today. I asked her what she thought about me not hearing from a lot of people. She said she believed that people were often overwhelmed with their own lives and that, quite frankly, I acted like it was no big deal and that I didn't need anything. Boy, how did she get so wise? That's so true. I've never been able to ask for what I need; love, attention, time, whatever. I think, in a way, it's created more loss. When will I be able to admit who I am under this blustery facade?
I'm trying to work a little bit at a time on this abstract. So far it hasn't improved much.
Reaction
I'm thinking about how most of my life's actions have had a catalyst in emotional pain. I've made decisions because my feelings were so hurt that I saw my only recourse as running away.
I had surgery last Monday and I'm feeling especially fragile. My kids have been great; they sent flowers, have run errands and checked in every day. I've also received emails and texts from a few good friends. Beyond that....nothing. Maybe it's the digital age, maybe it's our age of indifference. Maybe I am WAY too sensitive.
How do you stop keeping score?
Long time....
I painted today. It's been a long time coming. I have tons of half finished canvases in the store room. Mostly they are ones that didn't work out or are so terrible they need to be painted over. I finished one for a friend and today started on another.
I can copy just about anything. What's really hard for me are abstracts. Whoever said they were just a bunch of splotches and dabs has never tried it. I see a lot of abstracts that really wow me. However, I have never been able to do one that speaks to me that way. I'm going to keep working on this abstract for a bit. I just want to see if I can do it. I've been in a pretty bleak place lately and I'm hoping this will catapult me out of it. It's amazing how distracted I can get. I'm all wrapped up in having my house on the market and designing the new one, that I don't do the one thing that really feeds me; paint.
I actually sold one of my more abstract landscapes out of the coffee shop the other day. Kind of surprised me.
Dollars and Sense
Yesterday, my sister helped me hang my paintings at Cafe Darwin. She was asking me how much I wanted for them and I quoted her a pretty high price because I'm loathe to part with them. It's always more difficult for me when I start painting something new; like the ocean paintings. My fear is that I will never be able to create something as good or better. Essentially I don't have much confidence in my abilities.
She suggested that maybe it was better to charge less and get them out there. "After all", she asked, "What are you going to do with all of them?" I use to feel like selling them would give me some credibility, but I don't really care about that so much any more. However, maybe it's time to let go.
I guess I just need to get to work again. I can get easily distracted by the holidays or remodeling projects. I'm going to start building a studio and what's the point if I'm spending all my time on the job instead of painting?
Strutting your stuff
Today I went by a field where boys were practicing football in their uniforms. I was suddenly hit with the memory of how cool it felt to wear a high school uniform. It made me feel special. That's feeling is pretty hard to come by these days. It kind of sucks to be at the invisable age.
Flowers in your hair...
I awoke to the alarm this morning and they were playing that song, "if you go to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair". I can't remember who it was by, but it took me back in a flash. I clearly remembered our sense purpose; our feelings of uniqueness. We really believed that our idealism would create this wonderful world of the future. We thought our way would lead to a world where the superficial and monetary were not as important as love. Where peace would reign. Boy, were we off the mark.
It never occurred to us that the world would get scarier and less peaceful than ever. That there would be so much greed and competition; that there would be so much hate and so little love.
I never thought I would know so many people not exercising their freedom of choice; that they would be OK living in the boxes created for them by society.
No wonder I've walked around all day with a feeling of disappointment. What happened?
Meaning
I think I look for meaning where there might not be any, but.....
Since I moved to Portland and joined Facebook, I have had ample opportunities to walk through my long ago past. First my friend Jacque came to town and I got together with her, Judy and Gaylene. Jacque had seen my picture in the book, The Far Out Story of Vortex I. This sort of started the topic of rock festival behavior. I have forgotten most all of that stuff and, try as I might, I can't get the memories back. This led to her sharing the memories she had and us digging through old pictures. It was really fun and it seemed like no time had gone by at all. It didn't take much to remember why we were all such great friends.
For the last two months I have gotten together for dinner with old classmates. Last dinner there was discussions of who had observed me naked at rock festivals. Thank you, but I don't remember that either. It was kind of embarrassing. No, actually it was a lot embarrassing, but at 21 I looked pretty good naked. Now days? Not so much.
Then I had another classmate, from Virginia, call when he was in town. We met for coffee and it was pretty enlightening. Not only do I not remember much, but I have no idea what other people thought of me. Interestingly enough, what they thought of me has very little to do with what I felt in those days. I think that's probably a good thing because their opinions of me seem to be better than mine.
As for painting... I think I've finally run out of distractions that have kept me out of the studio. I'm working on another ocean scene. So far, it isn't as good as the first one, but that' pretty typical of my changes in subject matter. The first in a series is always the best. Maybe that's why I keep changing. I will post it if I ever get it done.
Real Estate Agents
This morning I got another call from a real estate agent who wanted to list my house. (I had put my house on the market briefly before I left for Ireland and evidently the listing had expired.) I really dislike these people. Most likely it's from my own experience, but I haven't forgotten the idiot who called my friend Megan, 2 days after her husband died, to find out if she might want him to list her house. Then there was the guy who listed this house, who backed up everyone of his client's lies about the water in the basement. The woman this morning, when I commented how annoyed I was by her call, told me that I would want someone really aggressive to sell my house.
Did someone give these people permission to be horribly rude and dishonest when they recieved their licenses? They must have a class called, "How to be really rude and annoying and call it aggressive and successful". Maybe there's a class called "Lying is OK if it helps your client sell their house". Ugh!
I can be rude and annoying without their help so I'm going to list the house on my own....
The Wave
I've finally taken some pictures of my two most recent paintings. I put The Wave on the front page of the site and added the second version of Winter Garden right above the old one.
The pictures didn't turn out too well because, as of yet, I don't have a very good place to take them. I decided to stay here for, at least, 10 more months. It's difficult to find the motivation to organize a place you don't love nor intend to stay in. I have some ideas for my future place of residence, but don't want to jinx the process.
Last night I had dinner with some high school classmates. It's interesting because we don't really know each other and, although we have some history, it's like meeting new people all over again. On that note, as usual, I spent the rest of the evening analyzing every stupid thing I said. I guess I'm not very good at letting people know who I really am. That's probably why I only feel truly confident when I'm painting. Guess I better get to it.
When I moved here, I had planned on hanging Winter Garden in my bedroom, but when I unwrapped it, I wasn't too happy with it. So, I worked on it for several days and I love it! It looks great in my room. As soon as I can find the tripod and lights I will try to take a photo. Now I'm working on something new. I saw some paintings by an artist, in Laguna Beach, that I loved. They were all of the ocean and looked like photos they were so realistic. I've always loved being on the beach so I'm painting The Wave. So far it's exceeding my expectations. How fabulous is that?
Finally
Maybe writing is helping me because today I exercised and painted. I hate to exercise; really, really hate it. The painting went fine, but I can see that this studio isn't going to work very well. The light is crap and there's not enough room. I finally really miss something about Eugene: my studio.
So, today I didn't waste too much time.
I don't believe in an afterlife. I believe this is it and I don't want to look back and my life and regret that I didn't do the things I could.
Resolutions
I am plagued by this sense that time is running out. Did you ever hear of someone on their death bed saying, "I wish I'd spent more time on the computer"? Probably not. Why then, do we waste what precious time we have? I think about this a lot. Probably more time wasting.
As I've gotten older, I've become aware of things that run deep in me and rule a lot of my behavior. Top two? When am I going to stop caring what other people think of me and how I look?
Emotional excess
Finally I'm putting my studio together. I decided to put on my headset, while working, and it all came back. I have been gifted/cursed with such acute emotions. I know I've never been able to tap them down. I have loved beyond belief. I have felt loss....Oh god....I have felt loss. This is how I'm wired.
My mother died in January. I felt pity for her these last two years of debilitation, but not love. That emotion was wiped out by her enormous cruelty towards me. I didn't really feel a sense of loss when she died, but I must say she's been visiting me in my dreams.
My mother use to paint, but I don't think she got much relief from her turmoil. Guess I better get busy.
Envelopes
I've been working in my office trying to get organized. This particular move finds me bogged down in menial chores for which I have little liking. I have yet to get my studio operational. I must enjoy delaying my gratification because it's taking me a long time to get settled.
I came across a box of envelopes while unpacking my office. Did you ever buy 500 envelopes and wonder if you would use them all before you die? I lost another friend from my past; got news of his death yesterday. He was 53. I guess he hardly used any of his envelopes.
So, what's the lesson? Live for the present? Stop worrying about stuff like envelopes and make hay while the sun shines? Don't buy so fucking many envelopes?
Arguing
I think I use to like arguing. At first I would argue even if I didn't know what I was talking about. Then, since being the fool has never much appealed to me, I only argued if I was pretty sure of my position. As time passed, especially in the last few years, I've grown uncomfortable with confllict and really stopped arguing. I try to never engage with people who need to be right about their side. I do, however, love to argue with people who are fun. Full circle?
This sucks...
Here I am again; in remodeling hell. It's the same old thing. I would find a completely finished house, but it would be too much money or in the wrong neighborhood. So, of course, I buy a house in the right area, but that needs work. I embark on the process that I use to love. People don't return your calls or don't show up and the schedule gets all out of whack. Then I end up having to reschedule the few people who are with the program. The house is a huge mess with all my furniture and boxes shoved in corners. If even one fucking thing would actually be done I might be able to organize a few things. As it is, I hate it so much that I flee to the apartment where I don't have to look at the dust, dirt and half done work.
Then there is the whole money issue....trying to save on the project and watching it slip through my fingertips. I really, really need to get back to painting. This sucks!
Housing
What a ride it's been since arriving in Portland. One day I have a house, the next day I don't. I think people are holding on pretty tight in this economy. Either they aren't selling or they aren't being realistic with their prices. At this point there is nothing in sight. I don't mind living in this apartment, but there is nothing for me to do, activity-wise. So, I've decided to explore the idea of stufio space until the right house picks me.
Now if I can just find my painting equipment in storage units packed to the ceiling.