Posted on by She Never Sleeps

A banner year… Not really

I don’t even know where to begin. All of it seems almost surreal.

I’ve had friends die. Almost die. Find out they could die.
Hearts broken, relationships gone to shit, marriages end.

People I never thought I’d give a hundred and second chance, I’ve opened myself to again – hesitantly. Wearily. But with hope. Because I am a soft soul at my core and can’t help but think that there is a speck of good in everyone. That a tiny particle has the ability to grow and blossom if given the opportunity.

I’ve taken stock of the absurd, the unfortunate, the blind ignorance (and arrogance) of so many. I lose myself in contemplation often. I think too much. I always have, lately has not been any different.

I’ve finally come to accept that even if you’re direct and straighforward, others don’t necessarily feel the need to do the same.

Even if you give of yourself completely, that is not usually how another person operates.

That your own truth may not match the truth of someone else.

Sadly, I’ve also come to find that sometimes the best option is simply walking away. Not every battle is a war. That there will be moments in life when conceding defeat is a victory, even if it doesn’t seem that way at the time.

And right now, I really need to take that last part to heart.

Posted on by She Never Sleeps

the balance of art and every day life in a dream

When the last things you do before bed is watch Hell’s Kitchen, look through your Instagram feed, comment about art, order slippers for your grandma online and curse to yourself that you didn’t do the sink full of dishes but fuck it, you’re tired so they’ll just have to be done in the morning…

You dream about sitting at your grandma’s table and talking to two local artists you admire, your best friend, Cortney and social acquaintance, Jim Terry about art and the creative process, but then the kitchen morphs into some crazy restaurant (who are all these people?) and wow all this food looks good and damn you’re hungry, but now you’re in some sort of barracks/cabin which you’re sharing with at least 6-8 other females (who the fuck are these chicks???) and you’re on a cot cuddling with the obnoxious lesbian from Hell’s Kitchen (her hair is foofy and her skin is soft at least) and you see piled Right Next to you dishes that need to be done, so you’re like Fuck. I can’t go to sleep with Soft and Foofy until these dishes are clean, so there you are… washing f**king dishes in your dream.

Posted on by She Never Sleeps

Staring at the Walls

I’ve been staring at the pictures, the paintings, the old Christmas cards that I’ve yet to take down. I’ve taken note of at least several cobwebs that I’m sure I’ll never get around to eliminating. I could probably watch any number of recorded, streaming, or dvd type material. Insomnia, the annoying gnat that I keep trying to  swipe away but to no avail.

Lack of connection. That’s on my mind. Lack of human interaction. Or perhaps, lack of the Realness which has been so hard to find. The masks everyone wears, the pretenses, the facades – right, right. The world is a stage and aren’t we all just playing our part? Some are better thespians than others, I suppose.

I’m rambling. I know. It’s the exhaustion eating at my physical desire to sleep but my brain refusing to follow suit. Like a bratty little f**king toddler, thrashing and pitching a fit – “LISTEN To ME!!! I’m NOT Tired!” But no lullabies or story reading for me. Just the walls. The walls, the quiet and my contemplation of the loneliness settling in, nuzzling it’s cold wet snout up against the bare skin of what is Me. Goosebumps and a chill in my soul. The emptiness, thick and muddy as usual, mucking up my insides.

And I know that I am alone but not alone. I know that somewhere, maybe next door or two countries over or both, someone is staring at their own walls. Possibly counting cracks, convincing themselves that tomorrow… TOMORROW! they will conquer this bullshit. It’s all just a frame of mind!

Meanwhile, I’ve started a blog. Is it a reminder? Is it an attempt at connection? Is it just a self-serving platform to see my own thoughts staring back at me from the vast social media soaked universe of the Internet?

Or maybe… I’m just tired of staring at the walls. Maybe you are, too.