It’s too easy…

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To drink cup after cup of tea. Especially when its cold out, when I’m listening to this song. When it heats up outside, I will take slices of mango and freeze them in the ice cube tray and put them in my cups of tea to cool them down.

Drinking tea has always been something I loved. At age 12, I wrote about the ceremonies in Japan and the different types of tea and meanings of each. I don’t remember if it was accurate information.

Way back then, I used a website for children that was intended to connect them with similar aged kids to become penpals from all around the world. I wrote back and forth to a girl named Laura who lived in New Zealand and always talked about how pretty it was until one day she stopped writing back.

I had some penpals from Japan for a short period of time as well. Despite never learning to speak fluent Japanese, I loved discovering more Japanese art online and writing more than anything else.

I loved the internet, and thought it was incredible.

That I happened to exist at a time where I could just find a person in New Zealand . That this person would want to talk to me on aim or through letters that traveled thousands of miles to get to them.

I hope my son will take on a penpal when he’s that age.

It’s almost Spring times. I call it spring, despite the snow on the mountains. Boise is getting warmer, my legs are walking longer and the sun is bright more often than not.

I was playing with light while the boys were asleep. Putting dishes in the dishwasher, opening the blinds. I’m still doing good. The plan is to do some art this weekend, and some writing, and more google analytics lessons. Pray for the world and feel grateful for life.

Experimenting with light / my face

Sitting and clinging to my artistic identity

Posts tagged as "artists" from the blog
My latest artwork, at 4 different stages of growth. Taken over the course of 48 hours.

Time looks so different for everyone. I’ve noticed lately that it looks like sitting for me.

Sitting on a couch, and then a recliner, and then in bed. My bambino in my arms everywhere. Sitting on my ass, like a modern day human.

I know how bad sitting is for human beings and I think about it a lot, while I’m sitting down. This is just how life is in 2019. Everyone everywhere: sitting down.

I’ve allowed my mind to go to the wind. When I know there’s so much to do, but I want nothing more than to rest and stare at my baby.

I want to talk to him, hold him and let my eyes glaze over. To become a slave to his growth and well being.

It’s a very strange and intense feeling and I’ve bent to force myself into self care and making art and doing the bare minimum mentally.

I’m just focusing on rest and rejuvenation.

I want this year to be bursting. I ‘m now married, committed to my family as they are permanent fixtures in my life.

A life I never felt had permanent fixtures. It’s a good feeling knowing every day I will have them. It’s a huge responsibility and a huge comfort.

I feel swollen with desire to be a better person now.

Feeling like I’m in the calm before a storm of growth.

Thinking to myself, “This is a great time for a nap”. In one week, when my maternity leave is over I will return to my computer. Feeling reenergized.

Instead of sitting, I will be walking. I will be breathing and maybe driving or hiking or laying in the sun. It up straight, type with good posture, drink my water, clear my throat on mute, read books at night again, and I am going to thrive.

On weekends, I will be painting and spending time with my family.

I’m ready for life. Ready for my new normal life.

Plastic Dolls from 1967

quick snapshots as a busy no longer pregnant/ artist

Posts tagged as "artists" from the blog

My pregnant mind. A perfect pile on the counter left there intentionally. Plastic doll, some lace, some, ideas floating around. It serves as a gift, a little reminder. Of all the small, beautiful things that have been and that are to come.

My maternity leave is almost over. The last few weeks of my pregnancy were extremely draining of my mind and energy. Then, I gave birth and have been getting to know that tiny person I grew. I still have a lot of “meeting” to do, and that’s fascinating of itself. He’s ever evolving for the entire rest of my life.

I don’t know how I’ll manage having to direct my attention to work and away from him. Coming to terms with my privilege to be able to spend so much time with baby while on my leave. Since November 30th without stressing out about bills and finances.

I feel extremely sad that many mothers don’t get to have any time with their little babies without feeling the financial burdens of taking that time off without pay.

This event feels so life changing, I don’t truly even feel like the same person anymore and cannot relate to who I was 3 months ago.

Before the gravity of my permanent exhaustion settles in.

I’m going to do it anyway, I’ll report back to you soon to let you know how it goes. The way the situation is unraveling, he will have a lot of time to bond with his father. That’s a beautiful thing to me. They look a lot alike. I don’t know if the baby eyes will always be this blue, but watching them blend together with the passing of time will be something of a treat for me to see.

When I look back at my older artwork, my thoughts and personality I no longer identify with. Early to mid twenties, unhinged, creative and perverted. I’ve evolved. I’ve become more dynamic.

I’m a mother now, a parent, a wife. I have other duties that will define me, I’m not just an artist. How I am going to reflect these changes artistically, I still don’t know. I’m quite curious to find out. My uterus isn’t pregnant anymore but my mind feels like it will always be. Bursting will renewed life over and over again until I

To check out the latest art, check out the new “Mothers Milk” gallery.

Making art but only in between Nourishment & Pleasure

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I have been trying to make art every weekend. It is not so easy. Staying up late, waking up early and being 100% focused on the safety and comfort of a brand new person is exhausting stuff, not to my surprise.

My body does not make art, it is merely a vessel to provide nourishment and pleasure.

The little bambino is so beautiful. Perfect, handsome and healthy. All of my energy is focused on being there for the baby. I am so tired. Turning 30 in 2019 and I feel it. New art has been added to the gallery. Acrylic paintings are all for sale,  so please contact me with interest!

Paypal accepted.

I read things that make me cry

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After all these years, I still don’t know why I cry so often. So deliberately. I’ll sit around and read all day.

I’ll read things that make me cry because they are so beautiful.

And I will read things that make me so angry that I give myself a headache.

None of these things are contributing to my future, just my right now. They are emotion drivers, and I don’t know why I’m addicted to emotions.

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Like this photograph by Barbara Hammer pulled from an article on Hyperallergic. 

But that’s the power of the internet, isn’t it? So much content to absorb, it’s so easy to get sucked into things that are constantly manipulating the way that you feel. I loved all of Barbara Hammer’s photography and wonder what it would have been like the year I was born- 1989. As a woman. The way women have existed for the last few decades, and the centuries before that. I am grateful to exist right now where I have an open platform to address any concerns I have about the ways I have been unfairly treated. This platform, and your ability to get your words and feelings into at least a few eyes through clever use and placement of keywords and organization of your content.

Here’s to me, publishing a draft first typed 2 months ago. Say hi to your mom for me.

The whirring stops at half past three

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The whirring of course is my laptop, and it will stop because I’m turning it off. Closing it all down and stopping work at 62% of full-time employment.

I tried to compile all of the reasons why I wanted to do this in a neat little list, but it was all over the place.  After embracing my failures I decided on another episode of my special brand of word-puke because I’m feeling moody. The whirring is back but this time it’s on my terms.

I don’t respect Facebook, and I believe that all of it’s ad tech is dangerous and exists in a world unprepared for it. No matter what Mark Zuckerberg’s intentions are with that platform, it’s  still a point I cannot seem to ignore. 🙁

It could be used for good, the potential is so clearly THERE but he’s missing the point. Transparency is what we need. I’ve asked a few of my friends this question:

Would you trust ads more if you know why and how they targeted you?

Most of them said yes. This didn’t surprise me at all. I only asked 7 people so the isn’t statistically significant at all but I feel it would stand scaled as well. Advertising is mysterious, and it’s an extremely powerful force in the digital age. People need to know how it is decided what content is in that stream that they are always stuck in.

Mobile phone addiction this year and in the foreseeable future is going to become more and more of a problem.

Already, Facebook reports 56% of store purchases are influenced by digital interactions and 66% of those interactions are happening on mobile. We have our heads stuck in the screen and the trend is only growing, even for our children (alarmingly, pls don’t buy your kids phones ty).

I’ve got all of this extra time now, and what am I going to do with it? Patiently wait for the weather to get better. Frustrating, pace around the kitchen and into each room. Just wait around for a new tenant to take over my apartment. To move all my belongings out of Eugene, then somewhere else. And to figure out whats next because I accept that I love not knowing.

Going to enjoy some soft lung bullshit on youtube and appreciate the ideas of all the digital and analogous people I’ve met so far.

Drank 2 gallons of orange juice this week, it’s helping with the depression. I recommend you try it, too. I’m going to stop the whirring again, close this laptop at this cute cafe and try just breathing instead.

Where am I going, and where have I been?

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London, United Kingdom for one week in January 2017. The Startup I have been working with for 2  years and 9 months got acquired and to celebrate, we took off to London. I met my colleagues for the first time and celebrated a truly incredible accomplishment that served as a testament to everyones hard work.

Hendersonville, North Carolina To visit my sweet mom and her partner Doug in a cottage placed in the woods. Tranquility and poor internet quality aplenty 🙂

San Diego, California To a first professional conference I go, and see some incredibly smart people share awesome ideas about marketing and sales that are defining the future of ad technology. #TrafficAndConversionsSummit2017

Driving Across the United States from Florida to Oregon One of the most beautiful and peaceful experiences of my life. Driving through the county. Stopping for a week to visit my father in Colorado, continuing the destination and building memories for better or for worse that will always be carried with me.

roadtrip Part One

Screen Shot 2017-10-21 at 3.10.16 PM

 

Driving to Seattle, WA to see D.J. Taylor In 2012, my older brother Dan moved all the way across the country to live in Seattle Washington and I’ve only seen him a handful of times since then. As soon as it was convenient, I drove my ass all the way up to Seattle to chill with him and immerse myself in his impressively nerdy and reclusive film fan writer lifestyle and spending time with his roommates and city.

 

And now I am back home in Eugene. New home, new coast, new adventure. Fresh flowers, new humans, big happiness all around.

newapartment_eugene.jpg

My life peaked early, now there’s nothing left

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But an automated life. A boring life. Every day, you go to bed. Stare blankly,  turn right, long for cuddles from a cold shoulder. Stare blankly. Turn right.

Fall asleep, eventually. It’s not good quality sleep but you’ll take what you can get.

You just barely wake up every single stupid day and drag yourself to a computer.

With just minutes to spare, slack is open and its 9:01 am.  Type away, consider problems and their solutions. For hours. You feel your body withering away while you earn your “bread” on your ass. Take a break.

Listen to loud music. Eat a light lunch. Go back to work. Stand up for ten minutes every two hours so your body stays healthy. Sit up straight. Brush your teeth.

Wash and brush your hair. Stretching in the morning. Touch your toes, regret it. This is 27. My head hurts because I’m really reaching here and my back hurts because my posture isn’t that great and my smile is probably grimy but I still smile every day at everyone.

Thinking about all of those years of my beautiful, sweet, interesting life. And I’m thinking about that wonderful trait I love about myself where I do whatever I want and I have not any fear.

I think it went away. It’s a muscle I stopped flexing. And I think that is okay too, because those whims don’t need tending to. There is a line, a path, trajectory that I can see now and it’s further away but I’m having fun deciding to carve at it, taking all of my time to invest in something truly sweet.

For now, I’ll keep getting by. Maybe I’m doing the bare minimum. Maybe I’m stressing myself out. It just depends on what day you’ve asked. There’s no structure here, only barely.

It’s pen or perish, never forget that

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That’s what he said to me, the man with thin hair and the long black coat. I joked in my head that he must be going to the matrix that day. He turned back to me and said “It’s pen or perish.” and I asked what, completely taken aback by his comment. He repeated to me, “It’s pen or perish. Never forget that.” and just kept walking in the opposite direction.

I cannot stop thinking about it, and granted its only been two hours I decided I don’t want to forget about it (maybe it’s important?) so I’ll write it down. After I walked in my direction another half a block, I was stopped by an older traveling woman with a backpack asking if I’d be willing to purchase some legal marijuana at a shop in downtown Eugene, OR. I obliged and kept thinking in my head about what the matrix man said to me.

It’s pen or perish. Is he telling me I need to keep drawing? How did he know what he said would be relevant to me?

 

That’s just today. This month is trying me. I’m 28. Officially. I’m sitting in my room listening to The Apples. So much for joining the famous 27 club. Here I am. I feel like there’s a lot of pressure on modern day women to get married off and procreate by now but I don’t really feel it, I just feel the ghost of a press into my mind’s flesh that should but isn’t there. People around me are flirting with me everywhere and I decided I don’t understand how to handle it despite how much biological sense it makes. It’s annoying and I wish it would stop and every part of me feels rude and problematic for feeling that way about it but the intensity has never been like this before.  The pheromones I am emitting are telling a story my mouth and mind never will.

I feel confused about my place in the world and I miss making art more than anything. I find myself often driving long hours just to stop at a coastal town for a coffee and turn around headed back home. As I often do. Is this what life is supposed to feel like, you are cheating on your soul just to survive? Am I just doing this all wrong?

I managed to keep some artwork happening in the last few months since I’ve arrived in Oregon. The new scenery is helping pull something from my guts. Scribbles. Paint. Making a mess. I hope I can wake up and do this every day, one day. If I’m not just going to drop dead at an early age I might as well start living for me instead of just living to survive and benefit someone else. I keep getting tired every day and telling myself excuses and being average and its making my bones shrivel up and my eyes feel dry and my throat feel like a leather wallet. I want to be a lush forest.