2008

I’m late on a New Year’s post. In fact, there has a been a huge absence of writing here, resulting from a generous mix of confusion, hesitation, business, and laziness. 2008. What a whirlwhind. I’m going to try to summarize it, using a list. Because lists are simple. Lists are black and white. Lists are easy. And if I know anything, I know nothing in the last year has been easy. So from beginning to end:

• January to June : Living my last months in San Francisco. My first, semi-professional run at an actual career winds down. During the year or so I worked at Cinder Block Inc. I was able to get a nice body of work that would fully push my freelance status into effect. I am proud of a lot of the work I did there, and a lot of the skills I was able to work on and learn. This includes: Color seperation, basic screen printing practice and theory, designing with production in mind, client communication, professionalism, Illustration styles, digital illustration, mixed media, and the under-estimated art of RESEARCHING. I was making more money than I had ever had before, but I was not really savvy enough to save or invest any of it.
• Outside of work, I was struggling to enjoy the last run of time with my friends in San Francisco, while knowing that it would soon come to an end. It took me awhile to tell everyone. I learned what it felt like to have a family away from my real family, a home away from home. Today, I still think about those trips to Reno, getting high and playing NBA hang time, or the endless rides on the 38 Limited Bus. I remember when the weather showed the sun, all the skirts and sunglasses came out, it was absolute heaven.
• I rekindled a romance with an ex-girlfriend. To see if we really were meant to be with each other, to see if we could actually stand each other. It was all so hopeful, and there was so much pressure riding on it to work. It didn’t work, for a lot of different reasons, and realizing this would prove tough, frustrating, and sad.
• July to August : I traveled. Manila, Mandaluyang, Boracay, Philippines. Bangkok, Thailand. Cafes with buckets of beer and acoustic sessions. Going clubbing with a stranger-turned friend that couldn’t speak English. Riding an elephant, going sailing, eating the best food of my life, immense culture shock. Intense family bonding, I feel like we made up for lost time.
• I’m not going to sugarcoat it. The tail-end of 2008 moved fast, and blurry, and there was no mercy. It was about living in the moment, sober or intoxicated. It was about crossing the lines to know where they are. It was about first dates, and getting to know somebody new, and so, so different from what I’m used to. It was too many cigarettes, too much whiskey, being too high and sluggish, being too hungry and eating too much. It was my triumphant return to school, and I killed it, and took names. It was about refusing to get a job and working from home drawing pictures for companies and designing business cards and brochures and shirts. Winter of 2008 was about Living LARGE and fast.
• I’m having shirts mailed to me. It’s Christmas time. I’m having checks mailed to me. I’m climbing the mountains of Corganville, never missing a Lakers game. I’m going to the hidden caverns in the park, and throwing paper airplanes off the hills. I’m owning at puzzle fighter, and living by the diamond.
• I learned a lot about myself in 2008. I learned about who I want to be, and who I don’t want to be. Who I want to be with, and who I want to stay away from.
• I’m going to write up a sketch, so I don’t forget: 540, Geary, 38, CB. The LODGE, the R.A.P.E., Airplanes, Islands, Animals. Lawr, Sister leaves, I miss her. Heart breaks, heart makes. Puzzle fights, Volcanoes, Rips, and Camels. Whiskey, Games, Friends, Close, Close, Close! Crew, Crush, Photobooths, Living in the Moment. Meeting Abraham Lincoln, Gummie Bear Bubbas, Phil’s too smart, B’s too nice, Everyone’s too scared. Porch talks, Coffee Bean, Tea Lattes. Art Shows, camera, back SLIDE.

I’m thankful. 2009, will be 2000-Fine. This will be about REaffirmation, REcommitting, and getting back on. I always thought I’d be different. I have to be. I have no choice. None of this bullshit about blaming the city, the people, the money, the equipment. There are absolutely, positively, no limits.

PS Go Lakers.

Goodbyes.

Open the door.

Limon

There were five minutes tonight where I was sitting in my car, waiting for my ex-girlfriend to leave my friends, so I could finally join them. Twenty one years of life, two years on my own, a handful of experiences that have tested the true capacity of my emotional intelligence, and there I was, anxious, sitting in my car, hiding like a nervous little child. I wish I could say that I didn’t care about it; I wish I could say that I walked over there and treated everything normally, and equally, like someone who was mature and unafraid of social confrontation, but I can’t say that. I sat in my car, KEARTH101 playing, from the presets of my moms car, waiting for it all to pass.

For the rest of the night, the thought and image of my waiting around in the parking lot drifted in and out of mind. I thought of possible explanations, logical reasons or justifications for my actions, or what exactly I was feeling. These thoughts occured in between polished segments of speech and verbal playfullness with the people around me. I think the fear I felt was a fear of the unknown, the possible scenario of being a variable in a completely spontaneous, unstable, possibly fake politeness or interaction with a person that has shared more invaluable, intimate moments with me than anybody else on this planet. Whether or not she thinks about me, or cares about me, loathes me, hates me, we would be forced to pretend that there was ever anything between us. There was a slim chance that she could publicly and openly sneer at me or shout obsceneties but the chances were unlikely. I knew that much about her. But what disgusted me was the chance that we would openly act fake towards each other, a thin layer of veneer blocking the rough truth. We’re always trying to figure out ways to avoid truth. But the biggest mind-boggling quality of individuals, is that we always know the truth about our own feelings, but refuse to accept them. As if we have a cancerous part of our body that we hope will go away if we don’t visit the doctor.

Ratatouille

“In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. ..”

To say that I like to think about social dynamics is a digusting understatement. I am completely obsessed with it, the thoughts take over my mind almost every hour of every day, and it is only recently that I understand why. It is not about pontificating fancy segments of words to impress those around me, it isn’t about personal gain or ‘winning friends and influencing people’. Having a passion to understand and decipher the way human beings understand and work with each other helps me become a more genuine human being, a person that is able to transcend circumstance and environmental restrictions; it helps me feel comfortable in my own skin, letting my head and my body be my home.

We tend to criticize each other and create divisive clans of people on a general scale of good and bad. Unfortunately, this most often happens under the sway of the uninformed, judging people’s entire persona on a game of elongated telephone, or maybe quick renderings of one-liners or single night conversations. I can understand and respect this, because these shortcuts exist to save us time in a life that is over in what seems like a timeline that is cut short. An educated, open person will see that there is rarely a portrait in black and white, but shades of gray will always present a new sense of honesty.

The way we approach each other, connect with each other- the way a person can be so attracted to someone that it drives them crazy- or the constant irony of a hardened personality only covering a soft spot for warmth and love is the most interesting, captivating and surprising thing that we can hope to learn.

Civil War Re-enactment.

Honesty

Being honest isn’t just about telling the truth, it’s about having the courage to really be yourself. It’s courageous in the way a top-notch thief steals with confidence and certainty. The thief knows the risks and possible consequences, a good thief is NOT at all oblivious to the negative connotation attached with stealing, but the high level of certainty comes from a passion- a passion to obtain something of value to them, whether it is for literal needs or for a self-esteem related high. What does this have to do with honesty?

It takes a lot of bravery to be honest. To be self-aware and assured of what kind of person you really are. To take responsibility for the actions he or she may have taken. To understand that judgments, whether rational or irrational will exist. Let’s face it; it seems pretty obvious that there are going to be people out there who you just can’t please or recieve approval from, no matter how good you think you are. As this fact seems incredibly obvious (duh), why are so many of us unprofessed people-pleasers? It’s like we’d rather be well-liked cowards, than hated self-heros. But that makes sense, right? I mean, life after all is about being happy, and to be happy, we have to be liked? Well, that might be true to an extent, days feel more colorful when you are sitting on top of the world, but being a people pleaser won’t put you on the top of the world, it will place you somewhere among the giant crowd in the middle. Additionally, the satisfaction gained from being liked after you are completely honest about your thoughts, opinions, and intentions is far greater than any fake smile could give you. It hits much deeper, lasts much longer, and is real. Fuck it… recieve hate, dissapproval, maybe even dismissal. But molding yourself to fit other people defeats the purpose of having an individual body, mind, and soul.

It normally takes us years and years to circle around our genuine “self.” It’s like an unpeeled onion, the center still invisible and hard to reach. Phases, and weird ones, especially, are normal. We try on a lot of shoes to see which pair feels right, just as we try different personas. But if the past gives any importance, it’s that it increases are efficiency to deal with our dilemmas, existential or tangible, much quicker, with less pain. With this understanding comes an important key in everyone’s life. Once you’re honest with yourself, really honest, and understanding about yourself, you can then begin to be honest with the people you care about.

44

My biggest worry is that you don’t believe me. I guess with my track record, and the mistakes I’ve made, it’s probably smarter not to believe me. But if I can’t quantify change and trust with words, and my actions, from a bird’s eye view, seem inconsiderate and rude, I have no excuse. Just know, that it’s not at all what you are probably thinking, and there are several times I think of calling you to explain it all. But it’s nothing you haven’t heard before… and in this game of space, phone calls are prohibited.

This kind of train wreck has no winner, and there isn’t anyone celebrating. I’ll never forget every little detail about you, and the amazing things you have done for me.  But no matter how often I fantasize of having you in my life as someone greater than just a memory, I know the probability is too slim to give any kind of hope for a friendship.

What’s The Matter?

On my last day, I had a few hours to kill. The air was thick and tinted everything gray, and the N Train sped by while I sat in a car that wasn’t mine. The passenger seat was empty, and there were dirty bottles and chip bags littering the dark interior. When I parked, I found a spot right at the corner of 9th and Judah, at a meter. The meter had 30 minutes in it already, which I tried not to see as any important coincidence. The problem with attaching romantic meanings to small synchronicities is that it creates a set of significant expectations, and adds an implied novel-quality to the moment you’re living. I didn’t want anything idealistic, or romantic, I just wanted something that was real, something that was there whether I liked it or not.

I waited five minutes in front of a yoga building to talk to her for another ten. When she came, she looked just how I remembered her before she left, like an exaggerated version of a more tame girl that was inside of her somewhere, lost inside handfuls of bodily organs and smoke. She said I made her nervous, but she made me nervous. Ten minutes felt like ten seconds.

Your cheeks were rosy and reminded me of endless, secretive nights in the city, where you would come over to my apartment and we would keep each other awake. Nobody knew what the 29 bus brought me those nights, and nobody had to know. Other people would just ruin everything.

I picked up a stranger from craigslist to take home to LA with me, because I had no money, and everything about me was beginning to run short. Adam was his name, he knew people that I knew, and we talked about the things everyone wants to talk about but no one does. Like the fraudulent aspects of blogs like this one, or the tedious, weary process of phone sex. He showed me his art, and gave me ten more dollars to send me on my way.

I drove to the city over and waited in my car for an hour for someone who could be new and good for me. I drove another city over and spent time with my sister, overwhelmed by her last nights in the town she spent plus two decades in, the expressions on her face and the way she moved were fragile, gentle and full of love.

I’ve learned a lot from you and you’re unconditional acceptance, love and support has given me more than I have ever verbally given you credit for. I hope you understand all this, and I know you will do great across the sea. You’re more than a sister to me, but a mentor, and a friend. I love you.

But what I remember most about that night is standing on the balcony of an apartment complex. Stealing a cigarette from the pack on the wooden plank and letting it rest of my lips. I couldn’t find a lighter, and began to face the door to ask for one. But as I turned around, she came out of the door with an oblivious look on her face, a look that didn’t know who I was at all, or what I could be. I didn’t know what I could be either, but there was an excitement there that felt familiar to me. It’s the excitement of something new, something different. Those who disregard the feelings of new paths and journeys say they are fake emotions created by change, nothing of substance. I know very well what is real and not. It’s not stability I’m afraid of, nor is it comfort. It’s becoming old and wrinkled, waking up one day, realizing that I never followed my gut about something that could change my life forever.

Dumbfounded, resigned, and anxious, I deeply inhaled as much smoke as I could into my lungs and blew it out into the sky. The moment had a calm serenity to it, and I stared at the brightly lit gazebo with nobody in it.

Crushed Veneer

I can only hope that the choices I make are the right ones. I’m not too sure.