Wednesday, May 27, 2015

500 Words. Day 5. Fuzzy Brain trying to paint.


This painting right here. I may title it "Headache"

Blah blah fucking blah. That's all I really feel like writing right now. After a 7 hour shift a work, a drink at the bar, and an emotional fight with a painting that I will always lose, I'm giving up to write. And that sentence is all I have. Blah blah fucking blah. That's all I hear when I think about writing right now. Thanks a lot vodka. My brain is fuzzy, and it's all your fault.

Maybe I can shut my brain off and allow myself to get lulled into a sense of softness by the clicking of the keys as my fingers fly across the keyboard. When I'm not really trying, I type pretty fast. Don't ask about my WPM score or anything like that, I don't know. cough cough 73 cough cough. Oh, I'm sorry. I had something in my throat. 

This is about the time that I start getting in my way and paying too much attention to the words that are being typed. My inner editor is having a fucking field day, going back and reading and thinking "you should say this instead of that, retype that sentence, add this sentiment." Get off my back Marge.  I didn't even have an entire drink, and my brain is fuzzy. Give me a freakin' break. Yeah, I just realized I'm having a one-sided conversation with myself. No one else is home, so it's either myself or the cats and they aren't around. 

Back to this painting. Hello beginners mind. I remember a quote or a video or some piece of motivation that circulates social media every few months about motivation and how we want to create something but we are so far from the finished product. Or something like that. My rendition of this piece is not even close to what it's actually about, so please don't take my word for it. Look it up. I think it's by Ira Glass.** My brain is too fuzzy to help you today. Sorry, not sorry.  

That is where I am though. I want this painting to be something specific, and every time I sit with it I can feel it, but when I put the brush to canvas it doesn't do what I want it to do. I can't make it look like what I want it to, and that fucking kills me. I keep giving this specific painting the side eye around my monitor, as if it can actually feel my disdain towards my talent. Trying to paint abstracts is taking me so far out of my comfort zone that I almost can't see the horizon anymore. I'm cool with that. I kind of like it here. It feels strangely exciting. Even though I'm struggling with my perceived lack of talent, I'm enjoying the getting my hands messy part of it. Now let's see how this works with writing. Can I let go of the edge, swim out past the markers signaling the transition from shallow to deep, and trust that I can keep my head above the water?

**It's Ira Glass talking about storytelling. I needed to look it up, my brain wouldn't shut up.


Ira Glass on Storytelling from David Shiyang Liu on Vimeo.

*I'm doing this 500 Words/30 Day experiement because of Kale & Cigarettes.

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