and the hits just keep on coming
I have been thinking quite a bit lately. Okay, so thinking is probably not the correct way of illuminating this idea, given I think all day long, but anyways, yes, I have been fixating on what has negatively influenced the literal in-personhood of what life once was. I am questioning my own motives, but in doing so, have decided to start setting up some rules.
The internet, which gives me a voice you can peer into here, is basically a platform for obsessed consumerists. It has removed all physicality in our daily lives to the point of existence where we technically don’t really need to leave the house ever, if we are skilled enough in its functions. In fact, most people spend an inordinate amount on it during the day at their jobs, and remove the umbilical chord long enough to get home (if they even have to leave it), where they can replug back in, and lose precious time living while fixated on their mind’s rapid fire consumption of information, desire to research, desire to read, desire to buy desire to shop. I haven’t let this happen to me, but lately I have realized I have wasted a lot of time doing compulsive email and news checking. Which is pretty much pointless for sure. Every moment I don’t spend living is a minute I can’t get back. Done with that.
I think of people turning out to the blobs of bullshit pictured in Wall-E since people are only getting fatter, and not watching what food goes in their bodies. And like most things that provide instant gratification (fast food/google), people are naturally attracted to easy solutions. If you want to know about it, ask god, I mean google. Google is our new god, just think about it. We use it to answer any question we might have about stuff we don’t know, and we somehow trust the assorted combinations of answers that are spit out of god (google’s) mouth to provide us with the correct answer to the question we have. Where can I get delivery? Where can I shop for food, clothing, books, movies, oh my sexy friend the internet, check check check check and then some. Where can I shop for people? Oh, the internet AGAIN, holy shit!!
Much like I am shopping for people, or rather, have myself firmly planted down in the middle of the damn internet aisle for you to trip over since I have become less involved in making the whole experience worth my time, I am doing so from the ease and comfort of my couch. Yes, my couch. Now my place, my home is pretty fucking sweet to be honest…I have even finished completion of my little blissful home office, which was fairly messy there for a while and now sits in with zero anything not in its place, my volcano the only thing framed on its top, aside from a pretty fantastic orchid that has grown three new stems of flowers since I got it. Then again after today, everything does sit in perfect zen…nothing is out of place, everything is, at least on the surface, pretty perfect right now. I still do torpedo my dirty clothing down to the bottom of my basement stairs–it’s my own little dirty secret, the only spot in my life where I can throw the dirt down a dark chute. But every other place is basically made for some kind of creation, catering to the changing evolution of production of everything from clothing to painting to headbands, to writing, to other art. Everything is where it needs to be to remain a clean canvas for what’s coming out of this next six months. I will refer back to this on February 3rd for what I’ve actually done.
I just got done reading Hating Olivia, which is one of those books you read and think, yeah man, I’ve had those crazy and volatile your-head-tells-you-no-your-body-tells-you-yes relationships–I’ve seen crazy people in the relationships featured, too. Which is ok because the entire memoir is about relationships and I am going to be honest about mine, maybe for the first time. About the things I thought, the way I felt, given much of my personal evolution has been about scrapping things I thought I knew to be in the pile of things I learned and accept combined with the understanding that I will always be evolving my point of view.
And back to my painting kick. I am not a digital baby, but an analog lady. The only thing permanent about internetland are the things you say and are saved. The art, however, is a forever changing elusive thing. With real art, the art you can touch and can tickle mutiple senses, you live with your mistakes. Think about your paintings, your sketches, your drawings–even with the aid of an eraser, you are living with your mistakes. You definitely do in painting, in pure photography. But with the invention of the internet and various computer programs, there is no such thing as pure in the digital realm. It is distraction, it is layers, it is a presentation of a perfect product which has no texture, no distinction or illumination based on light, no mistakes or cracks in the paint, no ability to view from varying distances, or presentation on the larger-than-life scales that people like Bacon did. This is also why my little studio and office serves a grander purpose. It is the inspiration hub for my paintings, starting off small and going larger for show purposes. I am going to get my stuff done. All of it. The writing, the art show. Fuck wasting it on other people too much. There is a ton of shit to be done and an actual deadline to work under. I am holding myself accountable for my time this time. No checking email until 8 pm, now. That is one rule. 8-10 hours of pure life, writing, listening, walking, riding, hiking, running, painting, swimming, lifting, skipping, breathing, bending, moving; yes, pure life.
Oh, and my new job? I gave some hints about some streamlining of information for the reporting I was working through with that company. And they listened to me and I outsmarted myself out of a job. How cute, right?
It’s time to be a doer, too much talking all of the time, shifting an imbalance to the fairy tale direction of things, super dreamer girl, super la la land, superstar in need of direction. It’s just a matter of time. Rules and self-discipline are largely the key. Here’s rule one I cannot break. Off. In-a-net Off.
