October 11th, 2007

confused, angry

(no subject)

You know, hey, maybe I just get tired of upholding the standard that I've gradually for myself? Like being new, or entertaining. Maybe that's actually really exhausting in some ways, always having to be a sort of exception, all the fucking time? It's gotten to where I'm somehow trying to constantly surpass myself at the same time I look down on what I was. I've digged this hole where if, oh, hell, I just want to talk to people, I can't, because I can't come up with some original or brilliant or funny or novel way to get that across.

I act, all the time, like what other people say doesn't affect me. BULLSHIT. You percieve a message, you hear or read it, you interpret it, you take it into yourself. Maybe you don't notice it happening anymore, but I assure you it is happening, and like hell I'm some kind of exception. Cone to think of it, the effect may be even greater on me. I spend so much damn energy trying to transcend this medium, that stereotype, this preconception, and it eventually just drains me. Drained me. Past tense.

I mean, look, it's happening right now: there's this voice in my head that's going, "OMG DRAMA ON LIVEJOURNAL ROFL", and you know what? That's exactly the stupid shit this whole thing's built on, what I'm writing about right now, right here, both the cause and the subject. Do you have any idea how many comments I've typed up... and then closed without posting? You can't imagine. At least three a day, no matter how busy I am.

This isn't specific to Livejournal, either, so don't get that idea. No, it's in everything, including the "Real World" or whatever. (C'mon, you know, that place where six billion humanoids live together, never started being nice and never started being real, for that matter?) A couple of weeks ago, my sculpture instructor asked me what my interests were. I couldn't answer. I just sat there and thought. I couldn't think of anything to say. I just nervously joked about it.

When somebody asks you what your interests are, can you not answer?
confused, angry

(no subject)

And, gods, you know, I remember what I'm doing up here. Oh, for those of you just tuning in, I'm up in this little town in my home state where I'm getting a degree at a university. Check this out: I'm an art major. YA RLY! I'm supposed to be an artist. "O! Such knowledge we did not have!" you gasp. Then you wonder why you've never seen my work.

Yeah. Exactly. Where is my work, anyhow?

Oh, sure, there's a little on that LJ gallery under... something, I forgot. They're all together, so it shouldn't be hard to find, not much to get lost in anyhow. I think they're tagged as 'original' or something. And a few of you think, "wow, he's not actually that good, and also this stuff is old, so I'll bet he's better now, but where is it all?" Alternatively, you might think, "wow, he's really down on himself, this isn't that bad, and I'll bet he's a lot better now, but where is it all," but you know what? Anybody else's perceptions of my skill by what I have in there are most likely going to be worthless to me. You know why? Because of passion.

OR lack of it. I've been working without joylessly, lovelessly, meaninglessly at it for years now. I spend about a third of the time I ought to doing it.

From what I've been told, I always was the creative sort, but from what I can remember, it started in high school. I'd always loved cartoons, whatever Disney crap that was around, comics, and when I got to high school, I was introduced to other stuff, like webcomics, manga, anime. I thought it was all awesome, and I thought I could add to it all in some way, I thought I had things I wanted to show people, stories I could tell, stuff I wanted to try, and perhaps even a few things I wanted to challenge. So, hell, I started doodling. Gods, I was just terrible, but I was happy with little victories and there was a joy in it. Sure, it sucked that I wasn't good, but that wasn't the point, really. Eventually, a whole bunch of new things gets thrown in: I'm introduced (via school) some people that were my age but pretty skilled at art, and even made that part of their identity, particularly the manga crowd. I was happy for their company. Then I got my own computer and I was blasted with stuff. I got to see mounds of advice, tutorials, communities, the-fandom-that-dares-not-speak-its-name, and just generally a lot of people that shared a few of my goals and hopes.

I don't know what the hell went wrong. I guess I have this prepensity for meaningless anxiety, because pretty soon, I was shy about what I was doing, or at least really conflicted about it. I started worrying about being good. I still loved it, though. That love is still there. Damaged, but still there.

When I got to college, I thought I was going to get a degree that would help me get a job that would sustain me. Ha! I changed my major to Art after a year or so. Ha ha ha! I knew I wasn't good enough, and art classes were kind of soul crushing, but I still did it! How stupid is it, to spend all this energy on something that isn't going to give you a return?

I always used to say, "I'm going to be an illustrator" which turned into "I want to be an illustrator, although it's very hard and I might not be able to do it" and eventually into the realistic "I want to be an illustrator, although it's not really going to happen". Now we're at the honest "I told people that I wanted to be an illustrator, but that's not going to happen and I don't like it as much as I pretended I did".

These days, art is a goddamn chore. College is a goddamn chore. I'm happy this is my last year.

My sculpture instructor asked me what my interests were.

I didn't know anymore.
confused, angry

(no subject)

I remember Printmaking. I didn't do hardly any damn thing in that class. I work so damn slow it's amazing I do anything at all, but that medium is time-consuming and just hard. Basically, you gash up a surface with a tool or chemicals and then you put some ink on it and squish it out of this roller thing with some paper and you get an image. They're like really big hard-to-do stamps. A couple of those images I uploaded were scans of prints I did.

That's beside the point, though. I hated a lot of the other people in that class. I hated them because they made me feel like shit.

First, they were mostly attractive, confident, and skilled young people. (That's not enough for hate, but I have something else. On seconed thought, I take it back. It is enough.)

Second, there was this incident. Two of them were talking before class. I was, hell, I don't know, there doing something, and this strapping couple of artists were chatting.

"I don't get people who don't like their own work." the male said. "If they don't like their work," he continued, "why are they even here?"

Whatever thing I was doing, I stopped doing. I couldn't do it anymore.

So there's a question from the imagined peanut gallery, "What's the problem? What's wrong with what he said? What's YOUR problem? Huh? Huh? huh?"

GOOD. QUESTIONS.
confused, angry

(no subject)

I really hope none of this whatever-this-is has made any of you feel like it's directed at you. Gods, I hope not. I love you. I love you all so much. That's part of what's been slowly eating me up, tearing me to bits emotionally. I'll bet what I've done here has taxed a lot of new freindships and... acquaintenceships? Or is going to.

Yar, this tidal wave of fucked-upedness is capsizin' our acquaintence-ships! Quick! To the Manage Friends page! WE LEFT WITH NO CHOICE, CAP'N!

And that's a stupid thing to be concerned about. Kinda late in the game now to reverse it, huh?
confused, angry

(no subject)

I remember when I noticed reiofhope's stuff showing up around the art deprartment. I was jealous of her technical skill and... bravery, I guess, for doing things like slightly stereotypical anthropomorphic characters. Nobody calls her a dork for it. Hell, the opposite: she wins catergories in the student art show -- by that same token, though, that might get her some grace on what she does otherwise. In any case, I later noticed her on DevArt or something and asked a friend, hell, we're already name-dropping, cgranade if it was the same person he had a couple of classes with, and it turns out, yes. Later, all three of us ran into each other at the horrible campus cafeteria, and he introduced us. We talked briefly and went our seperate ways. Just after, a couple of other people, then just friends-of-friends, approached us and asked who I was talking to.

cgranade innocently but misleadingly said "they met on the internet."

Then the two then-just-friends-of-friends laughed and laughed and laughed.

I felt like my humanity had been ripped off.

I felt like I had been somehow, inexplicably, put in my place. Somehow put into the paradigm of the nerdy dork, hell, I wasn't apparently supposed to have any more dimension than that, regardless of everything I say and do. And because I'm a bit of a nerd, yes, and I can be a dork, sure, but do those things, the negative expectations of them, do they have such gravity that they pull in everything about them, that the person is lost into those gaping cultural voids? At that moment, it seemed that way to me.

But, you know what?

A few years later, I'm in a relationship with bossgoji. Yeah, we met over the Internet, and yes, it is "real", so would everybody kindly stop asking or even daring to insinuiate that it isn't, and should anybody insist on that flavor of cruel snobbery, I invite them to snort a line of razor blades. I'm not going to let them deny me any yet more happiness with their twisted, broken monkey games.



Like I said. What people say and do to do me or around me affects me. I'm not made of steel, and neither is anybody else. I've exhausted myself by acting the contrary.
confused, angry

(no subject)

You know what else? This bothered me. What, Josk Lesnick, did you notice a couple of your comics were getting a lot of hits from some horrible fetishists, and then, what, you decided to STRIKE BACK? Or something like that? Also, the same tone as repeated by his readers on his Livejournal gets under my skin, too. How have any of them been harmed, I wonder to myself. Am I being New Age-y by asking if anybody has a choice about some of the stuff that turns them on? And do they deserve abuse over it? And if so, alright, time to step up to the big table: what about you? If people knew all about you, or judged you on some superflous thing like that, might they find something that would also deserve the same abuse so many great people of the world are so ready to provide, and more importantly... how would you feel about taking that abuse. Let me answer that last question: not so good. Dare I say it, nobody likes being judged and mistreated for stupid things.

Also, Josh Lesnick is a contributor to Slipshine, which is an awesome-but-occasionally-off-putting comic smut-pit, so isn't he, I don't know, throwing mud from one end of the gutter to the other, by the standards he's setting here? And did I just go there? Why yes, Dorothy, I do believe I just did. *smokes pipe* There's only so much of this 'My kinks are better than yours' bullshit I can stand without having to boil over in little, controlled ways. And I just know I'm making myself a target, because I'm sitting on top of a nuclear arsenal of kinks. But what the hell, right?

The best part about this, though, the silver lining, the big punchline, the things that make me feel better about the whole thing? Sure enough, they win. [NSFW site] Like kinky saints, they just laugh. And one of the users has the title "Most Talkative Dragon, ever", so they come out ahead twice. Unable to be that zen, instead, I get angry for them, I guess. Does the world really need more malice? Or mean-spirited humor? And why do I bother to care?

Crap, it's not as if any of this accomplishes anything. If any of the Girly crowd sees this, they'll just attack me or kick it up a notch.

Really, I just hoped that a guy who does comics like Wendy and Girly could manage not to be an asshole.
confused, angry

(no subject)

This doesn't mean anything to most of the people who have the tenacity to keep reading this stuff, but I have no idea how to approach or talk to krinndnz. It's not that I'm stupid or anything, it's that I don't feel that I have what it takes to... Hmm, maybe I am stupid, just in an innovative, complex way.

I think that's a big part of why I kind of lost it (what was "it"?) over the last few hours. I can't help but be intimidated, but I have to say something, but I can't, goto 10. That's pretty much it. Pretty much.