Life Update: Moving in and project update

I’ve been through the moving/adjusting process, so I haven’t posted much. Moving in was definitely new and semi exciting. I’ve never lived in an apartment before, but it’s not bad. My roommates are nice and the bus stop isn’t incredibly far away, which I appreciate very much so. I did attempt to walk to campus, and it gave me new perspective on the meaning of hurt and tired. . .and the meaning of regular exercise that I should be doing. The new campus I’m on is already gigantic, so I just feel like I’m crossing an entire planet to get where I need to be (makes me miss my other university already. . .)

In terms of projects, the art book was halted because of lack of editing equipment (a laptop) and lack of any money at all to publish it. I will be getting a lap top soon, curtousy of my dad (thank you, dad :)) and I’ve created a 60 day indiegogo campaign for it to try and raise money. If anyone on here is interested in donating even the smallest chunk of money at all, it’s appreciated. I’m still trying to figure out a perk to give for those that donate more than a dollar. It will most likely be a mini artist care package that I would put together myself with a sketch book and some tools I suggest in my book. I obviously don’t have money to give everyone prisma colored pencils, as much as I’d love to, but I’m hoping most of the kit at least acts a starter for those who don’t really draw a ton to begin with.

Also, if you do decide to donate, the goal says $500, but that’s because indiegogo will not let me ask for less. . .so if I, for whatever reason, get to $500 or even $200,  the rest will be given to Marwen, the organization that will be receiving half the profit from the project.

For those who haven’t seen anything about my artbook project:

 https://rescloset22.wordpress.com/2015/06/01/summer-project-1-art-book/?preview=true

For those want to donate:

 https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/artbook-project/x/11907037#/

For those who want to know more about or donate to Marwen:

 https://marwen.org/students/learn-at-marwen/faq

And at the bottom of this will be my lovely face as well as some new drawings and photos for the art book.  . . .do the pictures make you want to donate more???? O.O (the drawings, not my face. . .and I was joking. . .)

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Alphabet of Life-ing: Fear

Link to project page if you haven’t read it from the beginning:

https://rescloset22.wordpress.com/category/the-alphabet-of-life-ing-project/

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My fears are small and possibly normal, depending on who you are, what your fears may be, and what your version of ‘normal’ is. I have a tendency to care for them rather than get rid of them. It’s because I allow myself to be controlled by them. They make up the rules I set for my life to keep myself from getting hurt and, in turn, I have to keep them around. They’re etched like tattoos inside my brain and manifest themselves into tangible beings when they need to. They’re the whispered thoughts that inhabit my brain, telling me dark nothings that cause lack of sleep to post it’s status on my face.

I feel weighed down, but it’s hard to let go. It’s hard to imagine what I’d be without them. Without the fear of being loved, I’d be hurt too often. Without the fear of acceptance, I’d be pushed away. Without the fear of curiosity, I’d possibly be demonized by a body of people composed of love. Without the fear of comfort, I might be looking for release in the wrong places. These fears I have act as my sheild and my survival. How can I live without them and how could they live without me?

I’ve become ruled by them, so my unsolved problems, doubts, and worry wreak havoc as my body continues to move forward. Without these fears I know I’d be lighter and maybe even happier, but it’s a weight that I don’t want to let go of. At least not right now when I need it the most.

Project Update

I was kind of silent last week because I had too many things to think about. I was and still am in creative block mode and am trying to push through it. I’m on the last portion of the book that I’ve been working on and I’m trying to figure out ways to make it more user/everyone friendly. I don’t want people to feel like they’re 5 reading or looking at what I’ve given them. I’ve been drawing to find ways to make the creative brainstorm portion of the book more informative and. . .it’s surprisingly very difficult and I can’t think of anything so I’ve been doodling my little heart out so that I can unearth some ideas. Most of what I’ve added to this post was inspired by Brandon Boyd’s work that I’ve been using to get inspired (despite it not emulating his work well AT ALL. . .but that’s because his work is amazing so. . .yeah) I’ve also considered using another social platform to promote my project, mostly because I don’t want to use Tumblr and partially because the few I’ve been using don’t really work well and I don’t have a large enough following to get anywhere with them when the project is finished at the end of the month. Hopefully I can finish this soon and have something physically tangible to promote in August. Kind of hard to promote something that doesn’t quite exist in book form yet because it seems less believable that it’ll actually turn into something. . .to me at least.

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Alphabet of Life-ing: Define

This one still needs work, but posting it doesn’t hurt anyone (I hope. . . .).

If you haven’t read A,B, or C, here are the links for them:

A: http://wp.me/p3zzM5-lR
B: http://wp.me/p3zzM5-m5
C: http://wp.me/p3zzM5-ma

Also, here’s an explanation of the project: http://wp.me/p3zzM5-lP

Please enjoy this, if that’s possible 🙂
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Definition is purely based on perspective. Race is a funny and slightly accurate example. Ask someone what their ‘race’ is, and see what you get. Race is specifically fixed on physical characteristics, nothing more, but ask someone their race, and they’ll tell you my raid of things such as: black, white, African American, Hispanic, Asian. Notice there’s not many blatant ‘characteristic’ words in that list besides ‘white’ and ‘black’. An Asian doesn’t have a bubble that says ‘slim build, slightly slanted eyes, and small features’ nor does a Hispanic have ‘widened facial features, stalk build, and slightly pale to tan complexion. Based on what someone looks like, we’ve created customizable boxes that naturally generalize those characteristics with one word. Now, we’re all smart enough to know that no single race contains all the same features. There are many different Asians, Spanish/Hispanic, ‘white’, and ‘black’ people. For instance, not every ‘black’ person is from Africa. Are they still black?: yeah, because they share the same general f.eatures that help them graduate into that category, but whatever else about them is dependant on their culture and origin. Do people argue about this?: yes, because our perspective of races has a tendency to be based off of stigmas we create in society. When a certain person doesn’t fit that stigma, we question their race. Naturally when a black person isn’t ‘acting’ black, we rip the title away from them, completely disregarding the definition clearly written in the dictionary and basing our opinion on our perspective alone.

Should we stop this?: kind of, because it makes some seem ignorant when they use perspective to pin point someone’s race. We forget that people grow up in different places, experience different things, and grow up near different people. A black kid growing up on the south side of Chicago versus a black kid growing up in Zimbabwe are going to have major differences between one another. Does that make either of them less ‘black’ than the other?: no. In fact, they are both just as black, if we’re going by the text book definition that we should be going off of in the first place. Where am I going with this you may ask?: just giving an intro to defining. How I defined things changed over time or. . .more like my perspective changed which changed my definition of things. See what I did there?

When I was in middle school, it was pretty much puberty mode for everybody else, and I felt like school had become Noah’s Ark. Everyone was pairing up as if the world were flooding, and I realized I didn’t really have another platypus to pair up with. Disregarding the fact that I was too young to really be engaging in these things, I pinned it on looks. I felt that I wasn’t pretty enough and that’s why I couldn’t find another platypus to get on the boat with. It was a close friend of mine who lightly curb stomped me and  explained to me that the insides were what mattered. That it all depended on what your personality was like at the end of the day.

That’s when I had my ‘oh shit’ moment and realized that my insides were mere shrapnel in comparison to my looks. I was and am a broken human being who was vapid and dimwitted enough to think that looks were what was keeping me back. I realized my definition of ‘desirable/attractive’ was based on the warped perspective of a 12 year old. I had carried that into my first year of highschool, only to receive a Tekken Law kick to the jaw by a friend that, at the time, said one of the few wisest things I’d ever hear. I realized how ugly and undesirable my insides were. It just made everything look worse by association and I crumbled for awhile. I later realized I had to accept some of those things and remember that my perspective had to change to make my definition more accurate. I had to wake up and see that if my insides weren’t up to par, what really made me attractive or wanted in the first place? Why pine for someone when my internals are the equivalent to dog vomit?

If I feel like my personality is that of human fecal matter, why put that on someone knowing the result? Am I wrong for feeling like it’s pathetic to come to someone in pieces rather than whole? All  I can say is that having this piece of mind has molded me into someone that realizes that the inside shows right through. I’ve never been more grateful to realize at the age of 14 that. . . .I’m broken. It’s not my weight, it’s not my face, it’s not my lazy eye, it’s not my lack of certain parts, it’s me. I just needed to fix my definition to see that. To gain a new perspective.

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Alphabet of Life-ing: Coffee

I didn’t post anything yesterday because there was nothing to post O.O. . . .I had nothing done yesterday because I was sick and started training for work 😦 but today is a ‘project #2’ day, so enjoy this third installment of ‘The Alphabet of Life-ing. I’ll be posting letter ‘D’ tonight also. If you haven’t read letters A or B, here are the links:

Letter A: http://wp.me/p3zzM5-lR

Letter B: http://wp.me/p3zzM5-m5

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I probably sound like an addict when I explain my love for coffee, but it’s one of the few reasons why living seems worth it. Coffee is more to me than a small dose of caffeine in the morning or afternoon. It’s not a pick me up or something to generate warmth.

First it’s the process. The whir of the coffee machine and the command of more water put in the well, followed by the silent purr of the water warming. The Italian roast kept above the the coffee machine peeks out from the cubbard. I grab it and shake it into the filter, smelling the dark and powerful aroma as I close the top of the machine. The coffee begins to fill the pot and the faint smell from the grounds becomes stronger and fills the room. I wait until every last drop has fallen. The anticipation is exciting and calming all at once. I choose one out of the many of my mugs, a tall deep red one.

I fill my cup and leave room for add ins. The thrill continues as I get a can of condensed milk and watch a dollop drip into the cup with satisfaction, adding a one more just in case. I take a spoon and stir, watching the brown turn into a light beige. I sit next to the open window and brace myself. As soon as my lips meet the cup, I feel a sense of warmth and security. A sense of home and comfort that I wish I felt at home. I savor the smell and the taste while I look out the window. The few times I feel safe is with a cup coffee in my hand. I feel safe. . .I feel warm. . .I feel like myself.

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Life Update: Sickness . . . .

I was sick all weekend. My allergies slapped me in the face for the last three days, so I was incapacitated for a good couple of days getting absolutely nothing done. I have nothing to show for the project except what I worked on Monday through Wednesday and couldn’t even think of anything for my Friday and Saturday posts. . . .I will do better this week, seeing that more will get done I will not be sick. Hopefully everyone reading this had a good, germ free weekend.

Alphabet of Life-ing: Body

Here’s the second chapter of my story. For and explanation of this project here’s the link:

http://wp.me/p3zzM5-lP

I hope you guys like this 🙂
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I’ve always felt like my body wasn’t a proper representation of myself. In some ways, it reflected my neglect and work ethic, as well as how well I managed to replace a candy bar with a banana. In the morning, I’d often try to take in my swollen and sunken eyes and ragged lips. My waist had shrunk from diet changes and stress and I still couldn’t manage to grasp exactly how this body was mine.

Of course, physically, it embodied the love of my mom and dad, while showing what I’d done with that love. It represented features that presented my ethnicity and past lineage. Still, I couldn’t see myself.

I wanted a picture of what I thought I looked like. I wanted my dark eyes to exude the lust I pent up within me. I wanted scars, bruises, and fresh wounds to show how broken and battered my head felt. My hair wasn’t desheveled like my confusion. Only matted by a silk head wrap. My eyes and nose didn’t run from past frustration, they were clear and untouched by any bodily secretions. It made me angry because I felt like my body was lying to everyone. Because I couldn’t see what I was and people couldn’t see what I was, I felt even more disgusted with myself.

How am I supposed to see what other people see if I can’t even get a glimpse of what I think I should look like? Positive comments on my appearance can’t even help me because I spend too much time playing ‘where’s waldo?’ with my facial features to understand the origin of the comment. Where does ‘pretty’ describe me? Where do I fit in to ‘beautiful’? How can I reflect anything outward that is ‘gorgeous’ when I look like a half made monster on the inside? Explain that to me.

The statement isn’t rhetorical and it’s not meant to elicit more comments on my body to boost my self confidence. It’s an honest confusion and outcry that comes from a real place. So, explain it. Explain why that is.