155. Take your trash to work day.

I’ve had quite a few different plans for what to do for my idea today, but an unreliable internet connection is making any work on this site damn near impossible.  I wanted to put up a picture, since this site is really supposed to be about my art, and there were some pictures on the list, but the images just aren’t aren’t uploading.

I don’t want every post to be a single sentence, but every time that I think about writing here, even if it’s just to put down an idea, I feel an overwhelming urge to unload all of my thoughts and feelings without prejudice.  This is what scared me away from writing in the first place, during my days as an English major.  It’s just so brutally honest.  When you look at one of my pictures, you are looking inside of me, but you are definitively an audience.  Who I am, what my art means, that’s all decided by you. When you read something that I’ve written, even something as small as some of these ideas, it feels so much more intimate.  The barrier of interpretation is gone, and you have access to my inner monologue.  Sure, I could just practice self-control, stay on topic and funny and avoid just vomiting the contents of my mind, but I have a harder time doing that than you might believe.

I want to be honest when I write, painfully honest and open.  I’m desperate to be heard, to be understood, but my mind turns and changes constantly, and there are things in there that just shouldn’t get out.  I take some solace in the fact that very few people will read any of this, but putting my thoughts out there makes them real and public, even if no one is interested.

This is supposed to be a list of ideas.  The professional thing to do would be to stay on form and complete something that makes sense.  But art for me is compulsion, in whatever form it takes, and I just fucking hate rules, so I’ll write whatever moves me, and just hope that the potential bosses and clients that I send to this site don’t make in this far in.