First poem I've written in 10 years.

Drowning my sorrows in a glass.
This too, shall surely pass.
Though I cannot see
days past this night
I pray that soon
I'll find the light.

Seems I've made my bed in the field I've lain
Let the flowers put me to sleep again
Distant memories, days
back when I was strong
And many years
I proved them wrong

What I seem, I'm not, truth is I am weak
I've succumbed to flaws I dare not speak
My shame burns scarlet, red and hot
My eyes clear bright, blue with tiny black dots
Somehow, I swear, I'll make it past
Please don't judge me, this time's the last.

Bummer Summer

I'm sorry about the whining, in advance. This is the secret blog - this is the place where I can write whatever the fuck I want, and if you read it and don't like it... well... don't read it.

I have always, unfortunately, found myself more or less at the mercy of my emotions. I am the first one to agree that this is a quality somewhat common in most "modern" women and because of this, it may not seem special enough to be considered a serious problem. My husband, however, would probably argue otherwise. Each woman is always the only one, the craziest one, and no one is ever like us. Except that this isn't just my problem, this is an issue that plenty of my friends in relationships seem to echo. It's just how things are, sometimes - women are, by nature, way more emotional than men and sometimes, it is a difficult thing to control.

This week I have gone through many emotions, though none really as intense and heart wrenching as they have the potential to be or have been in the past. I have felt melancholy... a little lonely... pissed off, angry, then depressed, melancholy and lonely again. And there was certainly some "happy" in there, too, but this isn't a blog post about "happy", now is it.

I'm pissy for the second weekend in a row that the majority of my friends are out of town at festival-in-July number three. And last weekend was my birthday. Three people came out to the bar and had drinks with me. I was invited to go to Camp Bisco and perform last weekend, but since I wasn't getting paid and it would have required both Alex and I to take off more days from both our jobs since PEX fest, I had to decline. Everyone else still went. Feels like high school or something, some lame kind of left out loser bullshit, but whatever. I feel like the only dirt poor one who literally can't afford not to work. I already took off Fourth of July weekend for PEX fest earlier this month, and having just started a new job there was no way I could swing it and make it work. Just. Too. Poor.

So it's 1 am on a Friday night and I'm sitting at home. The most exciting thing I did today was go to the grocery store with my honey. I've been listening to music and researching burlesque videos to get ideas. I perform next weekend (get paid, how about that?) in Baltimore for a friends event at the infamous Club Orpheus, which I used to go to while I lived there to get my goth on.

So, I know it's not totally hopeless. I get to be the star for a night, all by myself, in a city I don't live in anymore. I'm relaxed at least, sitting here at home, enjoying some tunes, being inspired by fabulous West Coast burlesque performers, like Inga Ingenue. (I freaking love her, I decided tonight. She is amazing.) Some of the nicer of my currently out-of-town friends are hosting a BBQ this week to celebrate my birthday (and someone elses, also lost in the mix) - so that makes me feel a little less neglected.

And yes, I do feel neglected, in general. I feel like I even tried kinda hard to hang out with some folks tonight to no avail. I tried to get people in town to come to the bar on my birthday, and that kind of failed, too, but it's passed and whatever - life goes on. At least I have cookies.

throw me a freakin bone

Here is a song Alex has been playing on repeat for you to enjoy. Since Alex is so far the only follower of my secret blog, this may be redundant. Apologies.

Got a new job at Cafe La Maude in Northern Liberties. Besides bartending at the theater, it's been awhile since I've barista-ed and served so I'm a little rusty and it shows. I've completed day 3 -which by the way, began at 7 am this morning. Luckily the tips are really good, and it's close enough I can bike there - and I can eat awesome French/Lebanese food and drink good coffee for free. Please cross your fingers I can handle it - today wasn't even a "busy day", according to the owner, and I still got overwhelmed at one point and fucked up an order a bit. (I keep trying to reassure myself that I'm still very new, that I can do it, that it will be okay.) Even though the hourly wage is kind of crap, the tips so far have been very good. Hoping between that, being able to bike there instead of using gas or paying train fare, and being able to eat/drink for free it will be a profitable, smart place to be employed. I know I fucked up earlier because I was exhausted and being forgetful - so hopefully I can handle it. I got a little lecture as to how it's going to be way worse during busy times, her telling me I needed to pay attention ("And answer the phone if it rings!" - new jobs, always never know the telephone ring to listen for it, or what to say, how to transfer, if I should answer it at all... sigh) but I assured her I would be fine, I would get it, and that I could do it. I can do busy - I can be a good barista, a good server... I think? Whatever, I'm going to KICK THIS JOB IN THE MOTHERFUCKING BALLS. That's right. I'm gonna make it my bitch, and finally start making and saving some money. *Crosses fingers*




In other news, PEX Summer Festival is in less than three weeks. Choreography is done for both pieces I am in - now it's just time for refining and perfecting, finishing costumes, making props, and getting all my girls to the festival without having to pay tons of money. Come on, PEX - we're doing you favors by being part of what's making it WORK, throw me a freaking bone.

Scum

I am having trouble putting these feelings into words, aside to say I feel like scum, sludge, dirt, nothing. I feel like I have failed, miserably. I feel that taking the time to write this is wrong. I feel like I shouldn't be feeling anything. The mark hit the spot, trust me, and it could have pierced the skin a little bit lightly than it did, and I feel not worthwhile enough to continue on. But I will, I have to, and have nothing to say back. I feel so much hurt yet think I am not deserving, or rather, know you have no sympathy. I will shut up and follow your rules, your probation, and I hope someday I can look at you the same again. How did I get here, what and who is to blame, and how do I get out of this trap? I feel like if I don't be strong now, I won't make it, and I have less of a reason to make it then before when it all felt this bleak, and that doesn't make sense.

I guess I will have to wake up tomorrow, prohibit the tears from ever streaming down my face again, and pretend I can do it all for you. I hope that's the case.

(Just Breathe.)

I am strong, I am strong, I am strong, I am strong.

Don't even know what it's like anymore. Reset button - now.

The Balance - of light and dark.

I'm thinking about these relationships right now in relation to my work (for the show, and in art pieces I'm currently in the middle of) and just life in general. It's really, really important to fill your life with love and light (at that point where you really need it, when you need it, and then forever) - but if you neglect the darkness, I think it will come back to haunt you later.

I spent a good many years fully exploring "the light" - I guess I could put it - needing this spiritual relationship with everything around me, investigating, painting these otherworldly subjects, investing time studying meditation and Buddhism. I was young, of course, and figuring a lot of this stuff out for the first time. The world had not been kind to me, and I had not been kind to myself, and instead of literally breaking down, I fought it. I found strength and hope in certain practices and it was inspiring. I understood, finally, that I was slowly transitioning into a spiritual person and I saw changes happen around me. It was very important, it turned out, for this to happen when it did, and it became part of who I was. Change, challenges, and life happened, and when the "love" and "light" gradually faded away from me, I struggled desperately to get it back and it felt wrong. I didn't believe in it anymore, I thought. I wanted to punch anyone who shoved it in my face and assumed it was understood and believed without question. It became... annoying, to say the least. Especially when you understand I was surrounded by yoga teachers and New-Agey types reading philosophical books and learning Reiki and communicating with the universe.

When your artwork centers around these same genres and you're not feeling it anymore - it was somewhat devastating. What am I doing? Why isn't it working? AND WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN???

The key, I believe, is balance. Like the Taoist yin and yang - there has to be a little bit of darkness in your light, and vice versa. I was reading about yin and yang the other night, as I was thinking about all of these things and how they relate to what I've experienced and what I continue to experience. (However cheesy to reference, excuse me...) The article in Wikipedia actually has a really nice paragraph, which I copied below.

"It is impossible to talk about yin or yang without some reference to the opposite, since yin and yang are bound together as parts of a mutual whole (i.e. you cannot have the back of a hand without the front). A way to illustrate this idea is to postulate the notion of a race with only men or only women; this race would disappear in a single generation. Yet, men and women together create new generations that allow the race they mutually create (and mutually come from) to survive.

And it's not about Good vs. Evil, although the phrase did enter my show title (playing on the exaggeration of these ideas in both of our bodies of work, not literally referencing good and evil.) I'm interested right now in the harmony of two extremes, and how well they can compliment each other if done correctly.

For example... when I returned from Burning Man with this giant amount of free time, and my mission being to return to doing what I loved and had been neglecting (painting), I instantly suffered from a kind of artist's block. I knew I couldn't continue painting the buddhas and sacred objects from before. It didn't feel right. So I painted some creepy stuff - the black and red self portrait below is a perfect example.

"Further Back and Faster (self portrait)" / 23 1/2" x 28" / oil on hardboard
© 2010

In case you didn't know me in early college/high school, I used to be a little goth so I'm very familiar with, and comfortable with - this darkness that I speak of. And when I refer to "darkness", I'm not necessarily just talking about doom and gloom and being sad and depressed or angry. Certainly, these emotions are real and normal, and sometimes necessary. You can't be happy all the time, it's just totally unrealistic. If your dog or your grandma dies and you're still sunshine and flowers, there's just something wrong with you.



It's accepting and being able to work with and work through negative emotions, understanding why you're having them, where they come from. I'm a big fan of dark humor, either in movies, comics, books, whatever - and consider my sense of humor somewhat raunchy and dark - and even as a teenage goth girl I was able to take it all (the music I was listening to, the ridiculous vinyl clothes I was wearing in Miami, Florida) with a grain of salt. You have to be able to laugh at yourself, and not take any of it too seriously. The love, the light, the darkness, the sadness. It's all just part of human emotions, and the human condition. To deny or disregard these elements is creating an imbalance within yourself, and it will catch up with you one day. You'll ooze light and happiness until one moment it becomes too much, and you'll break down, hard.

If you know what you're experiencing, have explored it a little - death, sickness, depression, whatever - you won't be so "caught in the dark" (sorry, bad pun) and I think you can deal with it better. Get through the gray clouds a little faster. Something. "You cannot have the back hand without the front." You cannot believe in only one side. The world is not black or white, the world is a million different shades of gray. That's just how it is.

I was never a very timid driver (after the age of 17 or 18, anyway) and living in Philadelphia has turned me into an incredibly aggressive motorist. I don't know if it's because I feel like I can sympathize with everyone involved - often my modes of transportation (in good weather) are pretty evenly distributed between a car, walking, biking, or taking the train. I don't do the bus, really. (I did once out of desperation - heading home too late from a show and the trains weren't running any longer - and it just so happened my darling and I had been sold and consumed some, ahem, "bad acid", to put it plainly. The Night Owl bus was a nauseating, disconcerting, and generally frightening experience. ) I'm familiar with all these ways of getting around a city, and know the best routes and avoid traffic jammed roads on my bicycle and know where I can park for free - but when other drivers don't follow rules, or bicyclists ride the wrong way down a one way street, or when pedestrians are forced to pause for 5 seconds to let you go by on your bike and they sigh exasperatedly, as if you were wasting tons of their time - I get angry. I make hand gestures. One time, I even flipped off a school bus driver - and then she made a huge deal out of pulling up next to me (in the lane for oncoming vehicles) and open her little school bus driver door to yell at me for "cutting her off." (We were both behind a garbage truck and she, a good 50 ft behind me, pulled out of the lane to get around him seconds before I did - therefore cutting her off, except there was plenty of room and she'd barely got the yellow tank rolling. It was winter, so I simply shrugged at her, neglected to open my own window, and mouthed some silent retaliation.)

Don't get me wrong - this blog is probably about as publicly bitchy as I will ever get. I am actually a very nice person, and a good driver, and a conscious biker and aware pedestrian. There are just a lot of stupid people, and a lot of them have cars. They might take said car, which might just get 55 miles to the gallon, and careen around the city in them, perhaps after throwing down a few cocktails at a chic bar in Rittenhouse Square. And since they're not following rules, are driving like total douchebags, and piss me (the driver, pedestrian or cyclist) the fuck off.

BALANCE, my darling readers. I am a fucking amazing being of light, and darkness, and I know where the bottom is, but I'm reaching, striving for the top - and no I do not think I'm there yet. To feel as though one has attained enlightenment of some kind at the tender age of 24 - is to feel fooled. Maybe if you have nothing, really, ever to worry about - sure, maybe the rest of your life will be fucking peachy. Maybe no one will die (that you care about) or hurt you, and you'll never have to deal with depression, loneliness, addiction, or self-esteem issues.

But since experiencing these terrible things from time to time is almost impossible, chances are you will. I think that understanding, or even just accepting, the balance of the universe is helpful. Some beautiful, beautiful things have come out of sorrow and darkness. Some thoughtful and moving things in art, music, dance, and theater. Even thinking - philosophy, for example, is not widely believed to be a particularly "happy" area of study. (The average person would know to reference perhaps existentialism, and not much beyond that. Not that I know either, I had an effing terrible philosophy teacher.)

I'm not telling anyone to wallow in their sadness and misery, by any means. No one likes hanging out with those people. That's just another perfect example of imbalance, which in negative extremes can cause expensive visits to the psychiatrist and possibly medication. I'm just saying recognize it, feel it, live through it, experience it to the fullest, because it contributes to your understanding. It will help you live your life better, and understand those better around you who may at some time be dealing with this shit on their own. To deny this truth is ignorance, and blissful as it may be, it is no way to live. Perpetuating imbalance, even to only love and light, is a selfish endeavor - and it makes for crappy art.

Art is under appreciated, and apparently so am I

I am trying hard not to be depressed at the moment, but it has been a highly disappointing day in several regards.

Fuck it. I'm never going to complain too much publicly on any sort of blog - but come ON. This is the second time I've thought I've had a mural job and the would-be employers have canceled. Do you even want a mural, really? Why advertise as such? Why not be expected to pay for one? Why let me leave your business thinking I have a job, so I can go home and get excited about it for 24 hours before you change your mind to whatever else?? I just want to paint. I just want to paint! I'm good at it. Between being broke, having ideas shot down, and now this...? Can someone please just give me a chance? I promise you'll love whatever I make for you. I work hard. I won't stop till it's perfect and everyone is satisfied.

Apparently art is highly under appreciated, and I'm feeling just the same.