Ive been in a funk for a little bit. Go figure.
Ive been noticing how the older I get, partnerships and friendships become rather fragmented ordeals. I guess Ive known that for a while. but Im realizing how this solitary movement of my own, successful as it is, remains empty due to not being able to share it with someone.
Im a picky guy I know. We’ve been over these stipulations before. its cyclic. Sometimes I’m okay with it and other days Im thinking to myself what the hell happened to me.
http://www.avantcore.com is up and running were still sorting the aesthetics out with it but hopefully everyone can get some enjoyment out of it. Gives me an excuse to practice the computer skillz. I still feel retarded on the computer half the time. but whatever it will pass.
I have neglected this wordpress business. in part due to laziness. in part due to my brothers internet skills, ( what the point in posting when he already told you guys a week ago ) and lastly because I have been trying to avoid the computer when I get home. I use it for a tv and thats about it.
What to do with your life when you can’t open your eyes for sake of fear…This has been up for debate for sometime now. I am so confused on my role in this life. Some might say I’m talented and I would say I am partially. and the part that wants to regress and be carefree artist fights with the 730-530 everyday designer/working man. You see at one point in my life I would have said fuck the job. Let me do what I want. I feel as though my youth was consumed with blind selfishness sometimes. Having sort of matured a little bit I have been tearing myself in two everyday. not sure what to do with myself. and also fearing my impact on other people. I talk shit less. I keep quiet. I watch and observe. I keep my political preferences to myself. I don’t talk religion. Its not because I don’t want to debate and delve into these things. I love these debates. But I fear more often than not that I will not be respected or taken seriously. Or perhaps I will lose some stability in my life by opening my mouth. Its not the fear of authority its the fear of myself that traps me. There is so much I want to do but I’m so afraid of messing up and repeating my youth that I don’t take chances. and I feel even more scared lately with the premonition that I could perhaps be losing the things that make me, me, due to fear. This is not something many people come to terms with. Or perhaps it is but Ive become so withdrawn from social situations, friends and company that I don’t know this to be factual on any level other than my own personal one.
I have debated architecture. I have debated Fine Arts. I have debated Illustration. I have debated giving it up and working and even shittier job outside my field. I’m afraid. But at the same time I am trying to be as positive in my life as possible. I am trying to take what I have and move forward… ( I say this, but on a daily basis I am in bed by 10, losing X-amount of prime creative hours that normally would probably be a peak time for release ) I am forfeiting my yearning for this creativity and wasting away for an essential 9-5 working class job that pays higher than minimum but low on the scale of things. Yeah I have benefits but when will I use them? and even though I have benefits, how does it benefit me to pay for something every human should have with his or her birthright? care from another human being…
which brings me to my rant on my being single. imagine this in the paper not as an obituary, or a classified ad, or singles ad, but as a misplaced cartoon sketched in ink…Mike Lee is out of the game… You see me sitting the bench watching younger college age girls running around self-absorbed being molested by every young gentleman able to kiss their ass and pet their ego. next block you see me sitting at my desk at work trying to convince everyone that my being single is by choice, you see an argumentative side in my facial expression and a hurt side as well. You want to feel sympathy but you laugh because you know this cartoon is funny. You realize in this second block something you overlooked before. Mike put on a little weight. He hasn’t taken care of himself. He still has the same charm and tender heart and you saw in earlier cartoons but on this on you are starting to see the wear and tear. The Final block your uncertain how to feel after the last one… all you see is a mountain of assumed blankets atop a bed pushed into the corner of a 1930s house. You notice the clock says 615 and a hand is barely reaching out to gently touch the Snooze button. You wonder if the artist meant to show more motion as if he was slamming the button but then you think to yourself maybe mikes just trying to get over being angry at it all…