On Art
A Thousand Disguises — Literally
Well, more like 132, but who’s counting?
22 Months, 66 Scenarios, 132 Characters
According to Jung, “we meet ourselves time and again in 1000 disguises on the path of life.”
Hello world! I’m a middle-aged woman chasing my lifelong dream of being a published author. Interestingly, over the past 2 years, this opportunity has presented itself in some VERY strange ways so here I am!
Loquacious, intelligent, fucking hilarious, sexy as hell, introspective, loud, confident, crude but rarely lewd, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
I have a quirky (dry) sense of humor only some can truly appreciate. I believe IF there is ANY humor to be found in a situation, one should TAKE it. Life is not promised; we should live today like there may be no tomorrow. I may be verbose but I’m also very observant, approaching things in life as EXPERIMENTS… I view virtually everything as an opportunity for growth (even if in some weird way.) I ask myself, “what am I supposed to learn from this?”
I am strong and resilient even in the face of adversity to which I am no stranger. I am damaged: physically & psychologically abused, mentally ill, “recovering” addict, divorced 3X, mother to a transgender son, w/relapse-remitting multiple sclerosis. I am also a self-proclaimed psychiatrist and psychologist who can recognize and diagnose mental illnesses when I see them. (That’s delusion so perhaps I’m a bit schizophrenic too...) I cry very easily when I am both sad and happy and most definitely when I’m mad. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I really don’t like to look stupid, so I may squeeze in a joke or try to change the subject.
I’m a bit of a recluse but not socially inept. My intentional seclusion from the world for almost two years has afforded me the opportunity for more inner work and to focus on this “project” I’ve been working for 20 mos…
I am a very dramatic artist. Art comes in many, many forms. Walk and talk with me and I will take you through my gallery…
I lost my passion for my technical, scientific career about two years ago. I found it buried within the creases of my big, beautiful brain. Dormant it had lain for decades. It resurfaced in some incredibly strange but astronomical ways. I am real. I am alive. I am transformed.
I am very sentimental. If I were a serial killer, I would most definitely keep trophies. I am very animated. I’ve been told that I narrate my life and, apparently, it’s incredibly irritating to others. I am home alone all day, every day with too much time on my hands and no one to talk to. So, I talk to myself. I now also do this while around people too. “Thinking out loud.” Geesh. Cut me some slack.
My animation has become very active over the past year because WTF do I have to lose? I have fewer days ahead of me than behind, so I better not waste the good looks I have now wishing in 10 years that I had taken advantage of them then.
I have a big imagination. I am colorfully creative. I am too transparent. I am honest and dedicated to a fault. I am a bad liar. I say almost exactly what I’m thinking. Sigh. I’m not saying this is a good trait and it’s definitely not displaying emotional intelligence. But it’s true.
I am loud. Let me stress: it doesn’t mean I’m yelling. It means I talk loudly. Don’t confuse me talking loudly with getting mad or trying to start an argument which is what my kid has repeatedly accused me of.
I have an oral fixation. Look it up; it’s a thing. I am a horrible nail biter. If not biting my nails, I’m usually chewing my lips or cheeks. This all occurs when I’m not talking, which is most of the time.
I have obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD). “Normal” people don’t understand this is not synonymous with being a “neat freak.” OCD people can have what appears to others as total chaos around them, but the difference is that it’s organized chaos. And they see it that way. They probably have everything inventoried and logged in rows or bins or boxes or piles and when asked, give them 2 minutes and they can produce what you’re looking for. See? Organized. Look people, I don’t sleep with my hair dryer, okay?
A decade ago, Jack, my lover and absolute bestest friend, introduced me to John Galt. Who? Seriously. I tried reading Atlas Shrugged. The most absolutely boring thing next to Moby Dick that I have ever attempted to read. But he has an admiration for Rand and respect for Atlas and I actually resonated with some of the most interesting quotes from the book that I could not read, and, in hindsight gave me a lot of insight into his thought process:
- “There are no evil thoughts except one: the refusal to think.”
- “I started my life with a single absolute: that the world was mine to shape in the image of my highest values and never to be given up to a lesser standard, no matter how long or hard the struggle.”
- “Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swamps of the not-quite, the not-yet, and the not-at-all.”
- “No one’s happiness but my own is in my power to achieve or to destroy.”
And one of her most notable quotes from Atlas Shrugged that invokes some serious thought:
“If you saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater his effort the heavier the world bore down upon his shoulders — What would you tell him?”
I…don’t know. What…could he do? What would you tell him?” To shrug.”
Please read my related stories:
