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Getting Older...March 15, 2004

Well, I'll be 26 years old in three days. That means I'm closer to thirty than I am to twenty. The milestone of turning twenty five was a nightmare; I spent a number of weeks crying and lamenting my dimming youth and beauty, cramming my face with microwaveable taquitos slathered in sour cream and queso, lying in bed eating Chips Ahoy 'Big Chunk' cookies, which I washed down with the heaviest beer I had on hand, while listening to Elton John's 'I Guess That's Why They Call it the Blues.' Of course that song only brought on more tears...Why? I'm not sure. It's a pretty soulful number, but I wouldn't say there are many poignant cords that register for me, and it really had nothing to do with gaining years and mileage. (And naturally, I don't cry at night with Mama Nell) Maybe it was that line, 'Time on my hands could be time spent with you,' and I'd find myself singing along then wonder, 'Time with who?' At that stage in the game, I had found myself in a long term relationship of five years that I could see was simply never going to grow. I never imagined that it was possible for be so stagnant (it only made sense that positive growth was inevitable- relationships, in my opinion exist first and foremost to serve the purpose of encouraging the process of growing...but sometimes people just become paralyzed, I suppose with fear and anxiety), and, although, the relationship ended in one sense- we've let go of our rigid notions of being a couple and what that means, so we won't try to have a romance again- it eventually grew, afterall. Into a wonderful friendship. We share a super kid, and work together in his best interests on a daily basis, which makes us feel like better people.

This birthday is gonna be different!! Damnit. Seriously, I'm not as daunted in these last few days as I was say a month ago about getting over the hump. My ambitions are still simply to be a loving and tolerant mother and to be a better painter, conceptually in particular. I can only feel that accumulating years will just draw me closer to those goals, affording me the experience and resources I require to wrap my noodle around those ideas. So, in ways, I'm looking forward to the bigger numbers. However, now that I'm almost 30!! I need to figure out what I'm gonna do in the future...For a REAL living until I eventually sell work...constantly. All the time. Lots and lots of paintings. Thinking positively. heh At any rate, I've been raising my son for four years at home, and since I just love that soooo much, I'm seriously considering teaching. You're never too old to get an education and a degree, and I couldn't imagine anything more rewarding than teaching art to a bunch of creative excited kids. Not to mention summers off. Woohoo! So, I'll probably have to pick up a fall schedule and see what's offered as far as classes go here in the valley. The teachering community here in the Mat Su is a really tight network, and it wouldn't hurt to know my son's teachers as he is going through school. Certainly, I would have avoided all sorts of trouble if my folks had been more involved in my school work and acquainted themselves a little bit better with the school staff. Although, my father was friends with teachers at the High School of Performing and Visual Arts, and I still managed to sneak into all sorts of problems, ultimately getting kicked out.

I think perhaps for my birthday, I'll treat myself to lunch and a trip to the gallery district. Although Alaska pretty much deals with Alaskana art, i.e. wolves in the snow, bears in the snow, moose in the snow, there are some galleries that really seek out contemporary emerging artists to represent, trying to set a more cosmopolitan precedent in this state. I missed the 'Art Walk' this month, first Friday of every month complete with cheese and wine, and patrons clad in black or very dark flannel, but that's really fine. I'd prefer to go when it's empty...I think of all the art orientated establishments I've visited, I miss the Rothko Chapel most. The museums and galleries down South and along the West Coast were great, if the exhibits were great, and when a really amazing show came along well, I was moved and inspired for days or weeks...But the Rothko Chapel in Houston was so....quiet. Like a library, with huge smooth amethyst colored paintings on white walls, and as the sun moved across the building the subtle tones on the canvas would deepen and lend to the illusion of the hues actually changing...Purple appeared grey at times and black in places...And the atmosphere, despite the artist's suicide, was always so peaceful. People came in so softly, so hushed, just to sit and watch these living paintings...The room was stark with only a few benches, and the air always seemed fresh for this reason. Without clutter to catch humidity and mold. Just wood and canvas and a white room. Still, there was such a current of energy and mental activity contained within the chapel's walls. I don't know when I'll be able to visit next, Houston seems like a far away destination right now. Hopefully soon, though. I feel a real strong desire to strengthen the link with my roots. Ah, well, this is getting long, and I'm grubby. I'm gonna have to blab and daydream when I've got more time on my hands.

I will add this really quickly...Recently someone told me I should look into a nose job! I thought that was really mean. What a wanker. I just don't understand that sort of hostility. Just to generate unkindness for no reason. He was a perfect stranger, and just to be hurtful (not to mention that it wasn't a very bright insult...but how could he know I'm a little sensitive about my nose?) doesn't make any sense to me. Maybe I need to step beyond my front door more often and toughen my hide. When I was younger I would have said something equally dim along the lines of 'fuck yourself, fucko' but that sort of knee jerk reaction just doesn't go over well with me anymore. It's not something I want to project, and I suppose, stupidly, I assme if I don't want to put that sort of nastiness out into the universe, why would anyone want to muck up my environment with their unpleasant thoughts? Oh well.

Rantings, Ravings, and Paintings

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