truth

Artists:

so many mediums, aspects, genres, styles, designs, plots, inspirations, ideas, creations, emotions, scripts, presentations, performances, showings…                                                 and on, and on…

like our sexuality, it is not a choice. we are artists.                                                                  and, no, we do not need your approval to be this, to do this, to live this.

WE. ARE. THIS.  unlike so many professions, we ARE our artistry.

it is life, breath, it is existence. period. and, it is, at times, many…many…many…times very painful.

the criticism, skepticism, and, well, disdain for the lack of financial security related to our artistry, by others, for our supposedly ‘chosen’ path, to create the very amazing, mind-stretching and brilliant works that entertain everyone else who can afford to enjoy our art, is sad, insulting, mind-boggling and shameful.                                                         even those who love us, like us, tell us we are “talented, wonderful, even geniuses” are not fully “in”. ‘gosh, you are so smart, you would be so good at…(fill in the blank)’.

thank god, we don’t give a shit if ANYONE likes what we create and have the fucking balls to expose to everyone on a regular basis. some see it as bravery, others say crazy.

we have no choice.

creation is innate and raw, and contrived, and self-imposing, and selfish, and lovely, and selfless, and necessary…it is necessary to those who create, and especially for those who are the recipients of the creation. you need us. you do. and, as such, should be compensated fairly for our necessity. but, guess what? when we are not, we keep on.       because…we must…and because it is a love so insistent. because.

just because…

In a fishbowl, we are

glug, glug

drowning in our own dirty water. unchanged. in need of clarity.

there seems to be “nowhere to run, nowhere to hide”.                                                  anymore.

we are at the mercy of intrusive onlookers, videobloggers, critics, judgers…no one is given a pass.                                                                                                                            anymore.

we are subject to abject criticism. we are exposed. and not necessarily truthfully.    we are not allowed privacy.                                                                                                        anymore.

well, I say NO mOrE.                                                                                                              anymore.

 

IT’S BLOGGING TIME!!!!!

So much to say…

First, I had a great revelation at the dishwasher. All of the years that we as parents dread emptying the dishwasher suddenly became an enormous void for me.

As I gazed upon the FULL dishwasher, thinking that I will not be emptying so many drinking glasses or dishes in the present or future, I was struck by the reality that I would soon be an “empty nester” ….I really, really despise that term. I DO have a  dog and 2 cats after all…geez…

LIVE. live in the present. ENJOY. enjoy each and every moment. LOVE. love it all – even those moments that appear for all unimaginable reasons to be unloveable. EMBRACE. embrace the now…the people…the moments…it all….

and, that’s all…but again, it’s everything…as I MAY have mentioned before…take heed.

Silence is ROTTEN!

SILENCE IS GOLDEN….Keeping one’s mouth shut is a great virtue, as in Don’t tell anyone else about it—silence is golden.   Although this precise phrase was first recorded only in 1848, it is part of a much older proverb, “Speech is silver and silence is golden.”
Yes!!!  because, I seriously don’t want to hear all of the BS most people have to unload.
I think that in the “olden” days people were more discreet and didn’t feel the need to “share” every personal detail of their lives with simply EVERYONE who cared to hear, read or “social-medialize” their information.
And then the flip side of my thoughts prevails…opinion and its validity.
Silencing myself permanently for the sake of peace is like being constipated.
That is the gist.  I’ve “lost” friends for the sake of opinion. Sadly.
It is ironic that those who preach tolerance have lost their sight in terms of practicing tolerance.
I won’t hide anymore. I am me. I am who I am. And that is that. Silence is only golden when preservation is imminent, necessary and prudent. Not out of fear. Period.
Word.

What, say what, now?

So, I live in a place where pretty much everything goes and ,yesterday, I had the opportunity to listen to a new point of view.

I didn’t realize that I lived in a “Liberal Pothole”. Which defined in tandem might go something like this…

a depression or hollow in a road surface, open to new behavior or opinions and willing to discard traditional values, caused by wear or subsidence.

However, I’m fairly sure that the opinion of the deliverer of this phrase might have meant something else.

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