g i r l . s e v e n

One hundred/one hundred days/number seven! I've made it one week, and I'm proud of that. I've finally used some colour too. Ink, brush and pen on paper, digitally coloured. Crazy eyes. 

u n - p o k e r . f a c e

I've been told that I have an expressive face: scowls, smiles, pouts, stares, squints. As much as I'd like to sometimes, I can't hide my feelings. I can't really understand people who embrace the "poker face" mentality, although I suppose that I do appreciate it. 

t a n k

Do you ever feel like you spend so much time studying and emulating others that you forget how to be yourself? That's my creative trap — I look around and wonder how other (successful looking) people thrive and then a) berate myself for not being like them and b) try to mimic them and feel deflated when I can't. I've gone and done it again, hence the sparsity around here. Oops.

I'll tell you what snapped me out of it (a little): Lori Petty as Tank Girl.

I bought the VHS in high school for three dollars, based solely on the wacky appeal of its cover (bright yellow! goggles! pouting red lips!); the clerk who cashed me out said something like "oh, wow, that movie eh?" and I remember asking if that meant it was horrible. He laughed and said that I'd see for myself when I watched it...and once I watched — nay, experienced — Tank Girl for the first time, I was in awe of Lori's easy laugh and relaxed coolness; she was silly and strong and full of cleverness and I LOVED her. I vowed  to be just as unafraid and nonchalant in my own life, to be unapologetically real and enjoy everything.

Somehow, I'd forgotten how inspiring Tank's half-shaved rainbow hair and sassy quips were in the years since then. Her jubilant exclamation of "Aw, man!" drifted into my daydreams recently, and, happily, all the aforementioned came back to me. Lesson learned: calm down, loosen up and be yourself!

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The other morning on my walk to work, I passed a woman while crossing the street and did a long double take. She was wearing the most perfect shades of peach and pea green together (blouse and cardigan). I felt like a bit of a creep leering at a stranger; I wish it was socially acceptable to congratulate passers by on their sartorial choices.

h e l l o

Well, it's been a while!

My instinct right now is to sheepishly apologize for my absence and say something lame and self-deprecating in order to save face. A year or so ago I would have done it, but today I'm fighting it.

This is because, basically, I've finally given myself permission to be myself.

This sounds silly, but let me explain; when I was a little girl I was strong-willed, sure of myself, and vocal. If I wanted something (or didn't!) I would let it be known without hesitation. I knew what made me happy (reading quietly, drawing, cats, etc.) and what didn't (pickles! bugs! thunderstorms!) and I'd always let the people around me know. I don't think that I was rude or mean (at least not any more than everyone is at that age) but I was decisive and confident and polite, which I think is excellent.

"I'm a Terrible Person," Became My Mantra

As I grew up though, somehow the confident and decisive parts fell away and I was left quiet and polite; I became the girl who always followed the rules and did what she was supposed to do. I evolved into thinking that my own wants and needs were secondary to those of others. I focused on making people happy in a toxic way, believing that speaking up was rude, that my opinions didn't matter, that I wasn't as good or important as everyone else was(and that I didn't deserve to be). "I'm a terrible person," became my mantra and I constantly felt anxious and downtrodden; the more worry piled onto my heart, the more silence seemed like a refuge, and the more I felt trapped in my own psyche. I was stifled, nervous and unsure, regardless of how many people told me that I was sweet, lovely, thoughtful etc.

As an artist, this was devastating; I compared my work and my presence to my peers and felt that I came up far too short. Progress and practice seemed pointless; self-promotion felt obnoxious and hollow.

And while all this negativity went on inside, I remained that quiet, submissive girl who was convinced that speaking up about her anxiety and expressing herself would cause her to drive the world (and job opportunities) away. My truth was shameful and my real self seemed worthless. I was torn between who I was, who I wanted to be and who other people said that I should be.

I Have Something to Say

I'm not entirely sure what the breaking point was, but this past year (my lowest lows and some pretty excellent highs) has inspired massive amounts of personal growth and change. I've rediscovered the powerful little girl that I used to be and her brightness drives me on. I see now that my own happiness should be the top priority in my life; I'm speaking up more often and find that simply expressing my opinions (big and small) is an immense relief of pressure. My new mantra is "I have something to say," and it makes me feel strong, in control and excellent again. Instead of agonizing over what people think about me, I realize that the only person I need to satisfy is myself. I do what I want to again, and it's exhilarating. I can still be quiet (sometimes) and polite, but now because I want to be, not because I have to be.

And so, here I am, ready for action! 

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