(A journal entry about random snippets of my life, as they occur to me while I'm sitting here...)
I remember taking some "Survey of Art" class a while back. Maybe it was "Art Appreciation". I remember my teacher being this odd, yet interesting guy. He still comes into my work every now and then because, like lots and lots of other people in Fayetteville, he seems to dig coffee. I can't say anything, or "hate" (if you will), because I do the same thing. This guy was fucking cool though. I also took some really basic "Intro to Design" class that, strangely, I hated. The guy who taught that class was this guy who also really influenced me quite a bit, made me see things a bit differently from before... These two people got me into all sorts of artsy shit... Mapplethorpe photography, Diane Arbus, Kiki Smith, Wyeth, Rauschenberg, El Lissitzky (I hope I spelled that right, because I'm too lazy to check...), Degas... I'm sure the list could go on and on for as long as I feel like typing.
Yes. I'm still jamming out to some Peaches on the mp3 player right now. How fucking lame am I? Probably pretty fucking lame. Whatever.
Sigh... I'm going to be spending a substantial amount of time with my mom in a few days. I'm looking forward to it, because it's always good to get the fuck out of this shit town, and besides, road trips are almost always fun. Keep in mind that I said "almost". The only time road trips aren't fun is when you have to ride with family. Keeping this all in mind, I plan on smoking way too many cigarettes, getting drunk at least once in my mom's presence, and putting some SG stickers up for the hell of it. I read somewhere that you can get "SG Army Points" for doing that and photographing them, and that is exactly what I'm doing, but I'm just not turning them in for points or anything. It's for my own personal amusement.
I'm sure everything will be fine before we leave, but on the ride home, I'm sure that we're going to be right at that point, when, at a loss for words, you simply sit and seethe, directing all your anger and everything, towards the person beside you... That's where I see myself and my mom on the ride home.
If you were sitting here in front of me, I would have never have told you that. I probably wouldn't have said a word. Just stared. Looking as if I could possibly be slightly autistic, maybe. Trying to think of something to say, hoping I could somehow will words and sentences into being. Bring to life reasonably complete thoughts. Basically failing miserably at trying to hold up my end of the conversation, if nothing else. I would most likely look away in the event that my eyes met yours. This really bothers me, because I know it's fucking irrational and completely stupid, but I can't help it. It's not a conscious decision, I don't know what I'm doing until I've finished doing it, coming to the realization of what I'd done. I know, in my mind, that when I see someone on the street, that, yes, assuming I walk up to them and attempt conversation, that they would most likely be a friendly and possibly helpful human being, and would have no reason to really be mean or slight to me in any way. In my mind, though... I see the chance around every corner, that this person isn't going to like me for whatever reason, that they're going to think I'm either too dumb or too smart, that I look "wrong" or that I'll say something "wrong". Not "cool" enough. Not "in the loop". That what I say will be told to someone else and so on and so on, until everyone is laughing at me, fucking with me, judging, criticizing. Everyone will laugh. Makes me want to curl up in a corner. Hide inside a hoodie. Blanket. Listen to music to drown everything else out. Drink beer. Drink vodka. Smoke weed. Anything just to make the way I'm feeling go away, if only for an hour or so... I'm sure it sounds stupid to you, but that's how it goes for me. When I think about it, I know that none of this means shit to me at all, my friends know this. I'm probably the last to care what anyone else thinks of anything, but still... I'm a bit reluctant to slap a name onto it, like "shyness", "anti-social", or "a phobia of any sort", but that's pretty much the gist of it. I've only ever met two people, in my entire life, that I felt completely, utterly, 100% at ease with. And no, they're not my parents.
Two years or so ago, some friends and I went to the beach one weekend in May, a weekend that just happened to coincide with my birthday. A day which also coincided with the end of Bike Week in Myrtle Beach. Coincidences aside, the reason this stands out for me wasn't the fact that my friends were there and that we had fun being stupid. Bodysurfing at 4am. Watching shitty movies on the shitty hotel television set. Walking up and down the strip, or the boardwalk, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, the long ass sidewalk that runs for quite a ways down Myrtle Beach. That one. What stands out the most, was when we all went to eat at the Hard Rock cafe, and my friends told the people at the HRC that it was my b-day, so the restaurant staff came over to my table and acted all restaurant-ish, asking if I could stand up and follow this guy for a second. I didn't know what the fuck was going on, until the guy led me up to this little entryway set of stairs, so I was up above the rest of the place and all its patrons, when everyone broke into singing Happy Birthday. Everyone. My friends. Employees. Random bikers in the crowd. Old ladies. People coming down the stairs behind me, hoping to get a part of it before everyone finished, I guess. To most people I know, that shit would be awesome. To me, it was petrifying. I could feel the blood run out of my cheeks as it was happening. It was terrifying, to be the center of attention for all these different people, some who I knew, most who I didn't. That was seriously, honestly, one of the scariest moments in my life.
Quite often, I think that maybe if I had been dropped on my head as a child, that maybe I wouldn't think the way I do now, and things would be a lot easier...
What can you do, though?
Going to sleep now... Good night!
I remember taking some "Survey of Art" class a while back. Maybe it was "Art Appreciation". I remember my teacher being this odd, yet interesting guy. He still comes into my work every now and then because, like lots and lots of other people in Fayetteville, he seems to dig coffee. I can't say anything, or "hate" (if you will), because I do the same thing. This guy was fucking cool though. I also took some really basic "Intro to Design" class that, strangely, I hated. The guy who taught that class was this guy who also really influenced me quite a bit, made me see things a bit differently from before... These two people got me into all sorts of artsy shit... Mapplethorpe photography, Diane Arbus, Kiki Smith, Wyeth, Rauschenberg, El Lissitzky (I hope I spelled that right, because I'm too lazy to check...), Degas... I'm sure the list could go on and on for as long as I feel like typing.
Yes. I'm still jamming out to some Peaches on the mp3 player right now. How fucking lame am I? Probably pretty fucking lame. Whatever.
Sigh... I'm going to be spending a substantial amount of time with my mom in a few days. I'm looking forward to it, because it's always good to get the fuck out of this shit town, and besides, road trips are almost always fun. Keep in mind that I said "almost". The only time road trips aren't fun is when you have to ride with family. Keeping this all in mind, I plan on smoking way too many cigarettes, getting drunk at least once in my mom's presence, and putting some SG stickers up for the hell of it. I read somewhere that you can get "SG Army Points" for doing that and photographing them, and that is exactly what I'm doing, but I'm just not turning them in for points or anything. It's for my own personal amusement.
I'm sure everything will be fine before we leave, but on the ride home, I'm sure that we're going to be right at that point, when, at a loss for words, you simply sit and seethe, directing all your anger and everything, towards the person beside you... That's where I see myself and my mom on the ride home.
If you were sitting here in front of me, I would have never have told you that. I probably wouldn't have said a word. Just stared. Looking as if I could possibly be slightly autistic, maybe. Trying to think of something to say, hoping I could somehow will words and sentences into being. Bring to life reasonably complete thoughts. Basically failing miserably at trying to hold up my end of the conversation, if nothing else. I would most likely look away in the event that my eyes met yours. This really bothers me, because I know it's fucking irrational and completely stupid, but I can't help it. It's not a conscious decision, I don't know what I'm doing until I've finished doing it, coming to the realization of what I'd done. I know, in my mind, that when I see someone on the street, that, yes, assuming I walk up to them and attempt conversation, that they would most likely be a friendly and possibly helpful human being, and would have no reason to really be mean or slight to me in any way. In my mind, though... I see the chance around every corner, that this person isn't going to like me for whatever reason, that they're going to think I'm either too dumb or too smart, that I look "wrong" or that I'll say something "wrong". Not "cool" enough. Not "in the loop". That what I say will be told to someone else and so on and so on, until everyone is laughing at me, fucking with me, judging, criticizing. Everyone will laugh. Makes me want to curl up in a corner. Hide inside a hoodie. Blanket. Listen to music to drown everything else out. Drink beer. Drink vodka. Smoke weed. Anything just to make the way I'm feeling go away, if only for an hour or so... I'm sure it sounds stupid to you, but that's how it goes for me. When I think about it, I know that none of this means shit to me at all, my friends know this. I'm probably the last to care what anyone else thinks of anything, but still... I'm a bit reluctant to slap a name onto it, like "shyness", "anti-social", or "a phobia of any sort", but that's pretty much the gist of it. I've only ever met two people, in my entire life, that I felt completely, utterly, 100% at ease with. And no, they're not my parents.
Two years or so ago, some friends and I went to the beach one weekend in May, a weekend that just happened to coincide with my birthday. A day which also coincided with the end of Bike Week in Myrtle Beach. Coincidences aside, the reason this stands out for me wasn't the fact that my friends were there and that we had fun being stupid. Bodysurfing at 4am. Watching shitty movies on the shitty hotel television set. Walking up and down the strip, or the boardwalk, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, the long ass sidewalk that runs for quite a ways down Myrtle Beach. That one. What stands out the most, was when we all went to eat at the Hard Rock cafe, and my friends told the people at the HRC that it was my b-day, so the restaurant staff came over to my table and acted all restaurant-ish, asking if I could stand up and follow this guy for a second. I didn't know what the fuck was going on, until the guy led me up to this little entryway set of stairs, so I was up above the rest of the place and all its patrons, when everyone broke into singing Happy Birthday. Everyone. My friends. Employees. Random bikers in the crowd. Old ladies. People coming down the stairs behind me, hoping to get a part of it before everyone finished, I guess. To most people I know, that shit would be awesome. To me, it was petrifying. I could feel the blood run out of my cheeks as it was happening. It was terrifying, to be the center of attention for all these different people, some who I knew, most who I didn't. That was seriously, honestly, one of the scariest moments in my life.
Quite often, I think that maybe if I had been dropped on my head as a child, that maybe I wouldn't think the way I do now, and things would be a lot easier...
What can you do, though?
Going to sleep now... Good night!
*heres to hoping a pigeon craps on my dads bald head one day while hes on the way to an important dinner meeting* lol