rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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All over da map

I�ve been having the worst tension headaches.

I�ll be doing something when all of a sudden I notice that I�m squinting for no reason. The other thing that happens is that I remove and replace my glasses over and over again, thinking that the sharp pain above my ears is due to the arms of my glasses squeezing my temples.

I�m not a headache person so I�ve been popping aspirin like chiclets and worrying about brain tumors.

The pains are probably brought on by the current crop of stressors: no money, rent due, health insurance due, boredom with chosen career, futility of my existence, impending war with Iraq, elections on Tuesday, Terence�s lack of finances, my own lack of finances, errant gray hairs on my head that will soon require dye because am I that vain? Yes I am.

I�ve been thinking once again about grad school. Actually, I was thinking about it for Terence, since he�s always saying his skill set is obsolete and that in a few years he�s going to be a dinosaur. He spent most of yesterday researching universities, and found that only 1 teaches anything he�s remotely interested in. This is when he indulged his Inner Geek. He wants to go to MIT.

We were talking about the pros and cons of MIT, and I saw more pros than cons. He did too, but his fear of failure got the better of him. So of course I had to blather on about focusing on the goal and potential success, rather than focusing on the obstacles.

So then he turns to me and says, �Why don�t you go to grad school?�

Me: �Me?�

Him: �Yeah, you�re sounding more excited about the idea than me.�

Me: �What would I study? Surely not graphic design.�

Him: �You should go for fine art. For printmaking.�

Me: �Oh please. I don�t have the goods.�

Him: �Yes you do. You have a whole portfolio filled with prints and stuff. Over there.�

Me: �Those are from 9 years ago, and they�re not interconnected by any theme or anything! They�re amateurish!�

Him: �That�s why you go to grad school. To work that stuff out.�

Me: �That seems like a cop-out. Using grad school that way.�

Him: �That�s what grad school�s for. Anyway, there�s something blocking you, preventing you from making art. Don�t focus on the obstacles.�

Me: �Pffffft... you�re funny.�

And here�s where he delivered the clincher:

�You have the soul of an artist, and you need to work this shit out. Seriously.�

Ouch.

In a way, he�s right. My whole life, I�ve drawn and painted and made things and been crafty. After I graduated with my bs in graphic design, I continued to take classes in painting, printmaking, and even sewing. I�ve never actually stopped MAKING. I�ve always used the excuse that I�ve never had a proper space for creating art, and that I can�t very well make a mess in my apartment, so that�s why the Gamsol is still in the paper bag, that�s why the gesso is still in a box. But that�s a cop-out if I�ve ever heard one.

So I�ve decided that I�ve got to find out if being an artist is why I�m here, and the only way to find out is to DO. No more talking, no more rationalizing laziness, no more non-engagement. I�m going to try altering the current pattern of my life, and see if it yields different, or better, or more fulfilling results. In a way, become my own client.

Action item #1: I called about a studio space up the street from my apartment. I made an appointment to check it out tomorrow at 11 o�clock. It�s a converted garage behind an apartment building that, curiously, has a vacant 2 BR with hardwood floors. The landlord mentioned that he�d be willing to work out a deal for the apartment AND the studio space, so if they�re both cool, I might move.

A long lost friend called this morning and offered to hook me up with editorial work in New York if I was still interested in moving to Manhattan. Yes, I said, even as I jotted down the studio number.

Another reason for the tension headaches: inability to focus on one thing at a time!

12:16 p.m. - 2002-10-30

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