1: Art Festival
These passed couple of days have been very productive. I’ve managed to get up early in the AM so I can take the bus into town and have plenty of time to run errands. As of late, I’ve been running job applications to various restaurants in search of someone who will hire me and eventually train me behind the bar. So far I’ve had two interviews on the spot, both of which seem promising. Fingers crossed!
But, that’s boring.
There happened to be an annual art festival starting on the second day of my outing. Many hard working individuals were bold enough to get out there and advertise themselves so that they could make an earnest living; over a hundred white booths transformed the area into one big street canvas that splashed into life with the abundance of independent local artists. How colorful, the lives are around us - the products of the mind are not always seen… But when collected, they create an entirely different world. I rather enjoyed being immersed in it, accompanied by a gentle sun and my sketchpad all afternoon.
I had the opportunity to speak with a woman who resembled a happy puppy in spirit, and painted with acrylics in a beautifully bold, vivid, and somewhat simplified style. I had an odd sensation that she and I were kindred spirits. I’ve never met a stranger who reminded me so much of myself (vain as that sounds) - she even went so far as to call her husband her “rock”, which is exactly what I do with my boyfriend. She gave me valuable insight to the business side of art; rule 101, don’t dive into it expecting to make money (pretty sensible, no?). It’s best to have plenty of smaller items to sell, as people tend to buy those more often, making it easier to catch up to the cost of a show booth and profit. Her words have inspired me to pick up some acrylics and canvas. After describing the preparation process and her tricks to getting cheap supplies, I find the whole concept of painting a lot less intimidating. It also is a good idea to bite the bullet and take a damn business class.
On another note, I had an old man with a thick Asian accent ask me to model for his business because of my “artistic” appearance. While I’m vaguely flattered, I also feel kind of sorry for him. He’s new to business and has no idea how to hire a model or how to market himself. Since he couldn’t seem to give me a clear description on his business model and his website isn’t even up yet, I’d rather not let a stranger photograph me so that people will feel more inclined to read his content. Sorry buddy, you’re sketchy, but I wish you the best of luck with your business.
Onward, ho. Today I am going to dress up for a car show and help out my roommate’s girlfriend with her costume shop. Then for dinner tonight, we are going to BBQ some chicken that has been marinating for 2 days now. Oh, how I love summer!!
Introduction
If you must know, I’m a 22 year old female artist from Seattle.
I know who I am, but it cannot be described. I can tell you my stories, my thoughts, my plans, and my hobbies… But those are merely finite categories of which our social lenses have been trained to identify. To simply be, is best in my opinion.
There are numerous ways to describe a book, but it must first be read to be understood. My pages have scribbles, colors, illustrations, and plenty of text too faded to read. Some are ripped out. I’m bookmarking myself somewhat anonymously - I need a place to be honest, where I don’t have to worry about family and friends viewing my writings.
My back-story thus far is inconceivable to most. I have been horribly abused to the point of torture by an ex boyfriend and was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I grew up with a mentally ill, untreated mother, and have been raped by two different men. You’d think I’m some sort of stupid party girl, but on the contrary I was sheltered and overprotected. Part of the experience was simple naivety and believing the best in the wrong type of people. It is a long and complicated story, but I’ve grown so much stronger and learned how to listen to my intuition.
People I meet have no idea who I am or what I’ve been through - most of my friends don’t know. They think I grew up like everyone else, and upon first impression everyone thinks I’m totally sweet and innocent. I don’t lie or make up stories. It’s just what people assume… And I think that is great, because I don’t want my ugly past to affect me to the point where people see it on my face every day. My past is not who I am.
However, dealing with it is an every day struggle on the inside. Resentment, guilt, anger… They are all there like dry rot in a support beam. It festers and is buried too deep in a place I cannot remove. I think it will always be a stain in the back of my mind. I’ve had a brief encounter with a couple of therapists, and should continue therapy. In the meantime, it is too expensive without health insurance. I find it terribly ironic that therapy costs so much money.
This is a place I can keep myself posted on what needs to be done next. What I learn and the beautiful things life has to offer, I like to share. I don’t care if one or a million people read this. It just needs to be put out there. Enjoy :)
