my heart

I think... it may be done. It's full of hardware and could use a little fine tuning (the clocks kind of need it...), but I like it and finally feel released. Which is good. I like being released. In the moments following I feel most myself and least crazy.

So here it is. My heart. Against a back drop of hardware, clocks, receipts and questions.

All things taken into account, it really is a pretty good biographical piece for where I am, have been at for a while. The two questions beside the largest heart read, "Is this proof of humanity?" and "What is this for?"

The clocks and the receipts are ... stressors I guess.

Or distractions.

The hardware continues the theme of trying to feel whatever it is a human should feel and how much a human should feel. Dispelling with the machinery. Coming alive.

Alongside of the largest heart are written accusations:

Inefficient.

Impractical.

Messy.

Lustful.

Impatient.

Insecure.

Greedy.

Deceitful.

Indecisive.

Insatiable.

Unfaithful.

Broken..

The spirals that can be found coming off the largest heart are indeed veins and arteries. I'm playing with the dichotomy of connectedness and disconnection.

There are three hearts on display here...partially because I like odd numbers and partially because it is hard to describe the heart. There's a photocopy of textbook. There's the bloody mess that takes up the majority of one's attention. And then there's the the colorful little one in the corner. I think that's what I'm aiming for. Maybe. A full color reality. Small. Simple. But still beating and feeling. Working and loving the way humanity was meant to.

And if anyone has any suggestions for my sad clocks, I am more than eager to hear them!

butter and honey...on rice cakes

For two weeks now I have been gluten free. It's a test run, you see, to find out if I am secretly allergic. Since wandering down this road and finding that there is more truth along it than I would like, I have been told by several people that I am handling this way better than they ever would. Truth is, I am not handing it better because, well, I'm not handling it. I'm terrified. I hate restrictions to my freedom and I can remember specific instances in my life where I thanked God in pride that I had no food allergies and could eat what I want. And now, that is threatened.

See what I did there?

I left that thought at just 'threatened'. It still has not penetrated as actual fact that gluten really is the cause of at least half my head and back pain. I still act as if this is a temporary change. I am fasting, dieting, playing an endurance game. I am not eating wheat because I do not want to. I am so deep in denial, it is all I can see.

Food is a love language. It brings people together and provides commonality and proof of humanity on a basic level. And it is best left uncomplicated. It is a unique meeting place between need and luxury.

I am not ready for it to be complicated. And I am not ready to relinquish that freedom. Truth be told, I never would be given more days or years. But time is not my privilege and I am here. Already. Now. My own body against me in this. I am not fool enough to rage against anyone else. No one and nothing has done this... except I guess God... and I wont turn my anger or my panic or whatever emotional beast this is on Him. He is the only one I could accept this from and I hate that He knows that. But I know that He will be there when I am done and spent.

I am not sure why I am posting this...I like to leave this space for art and adventures and interesting people... I suppose this is the start of some kind of adventure. Here we go.

my cardboard heart

Here it is. The missing piece. Two weeks longer than I would have liked ... still unattached and very much not part of the whole, but here.

It is amazing how busy being unemployed can keep you, running around in the vague hope of selling yourself to a prospective employer. And it definitely drains you artistically. There are more responsible things to do... homework. job apps. people. bookstores. class. sleep. march on. It's been good, remarkably good actually. And yet, I feel as though I have forgotten to breathe. The complexities of being human overwhelm me sometimes, and that is ironic considering the art pieces that currently occupy my time. Isn't that the way of it though?

Here we are, my cardboard heart and I...flipping through job ads, just trying to figure out what it means to be a woman at a most basic level without all of the commentary of society and custom. It is one of those in between days on the way to something that will only be recognizable once I am past it. And that is more than fine by me. Today, I had dinner with two of my favorite people. It was simple and tasty and I am full. Rent is paid to the end of the month.

It is funny how much life has been reduced ... I have no guarantees about anything but the goodness of God. It is terrifying and a bit like the longest free fall you can imagine. And after a few months of grimacing and trying to guess at the end, I am learning to rest in it...my cardboard heart and I.

tiki

Today, I was hoping to upload a photo of a piece that has been in the works for awhile instead of more words. Alas, we rounded a corner...and I realized that there was still more to do. I'm out of practice and visual art always takes me longer than I first plan. Therefore, the obvious solution, to curb my own disappointment, is to post a picture of the table in my room (besides, my tiki man looked so handsome in the candlelight).

Here he is. To my own shame, I have never named him though he has been a faithful guardian of mine for several years now.

I think the most disappointing part of not having the piece done is two fold. 1. I don't know what it is that will complete it. I have a vague idea but not enough to make me bold enough to attempt it...still too nebulous. 2. This piece, more than any other piece of art I've ever made is much more personal. It doesn't make sense apart from my story and it feels very much like it is me and I will have completed some part of myself, learned some lesson when I complete it. So...here's to hoping that in the next week I will have something to show.

occupied

This is home.

And I do not get a choice in that.

It is both comforting and terrifying

To have the corners of my heart

Occupied like a once-peaceful country.

Someone is speaking for me,

But I do not know what I, they, have said

And none of it has been worthwhile.

Almost.

Your silence means everything.

I want to be angry.

I want to go looking for a fight.

I want to swear until we are both deaf.

But I cannot.

I cannot because everything...

Everything tells me this is home

And I am in love with it.

Nowhere else will have me.

You smile because you know

I am right.

Against my own sad will,

I belong here.

I do not even know why it makes me

This way.

I should be happy

Or, at least, not unhappy.

But when I think about it,

I realize I am just surprised.

That,

And I am so used to fighting,

Too used to fighting to be loved.

But the surprise goes deeper than that

Because even that is changing.

Hurt vs. Harm

I've found myself in this place where the future is so far out of my control that I just have to trust that the God in control isn't sadistic because otherwise...I'm out of luck. I keep coming back (a bit unwillingly) to the ageless Christian response to the future: Jeremiah 29:11. I have brushed it off and tried to push it away. It's in the Bible...I say I believe the Bible, but I really just do not know where to put that.

God has asked plenty of people around me to walk through some terribly difficult things...things no one in their right mind asks to experience. It was His plan...and quite honestly, it sucked. No one can deny that it was just not a lot of fun for them to go through that, and God definitely asked them too. Because they are of older and better faith than I, they did it; but it hurt.

Finally, after I'm not quite sure how much burying, running, hiding and just about every other form of avoidance, I made peace with that bit. God promises that His plans are not to harm you. This is not a statement about pain. Instead, it is about damage.

It will hurt. It will suck. It will be just shy of unbearably difficult. But it will be good. It will not destroy you nor will it leave you paralyzed under a weight that traps you. His plans are for freedom and for hope. And we should not confuse the cost of those with the outcome. He gives us enough and makes us new.