Insecurity

Shadow shows

I pictured myself underwater, the skies dark, as I swam toward something that I knew was an anchor. I reached for it and pulled myself toward it knowing, feeling as though it was the only thing I had left.

In these last two months, I have felt alone, sad, frustrated, full of grief. Each feeling adding on to the next, anger being the most recent. Even with things that I thought would excite me, like having time to draw, my motivation has been low. Everything feels pointless, meaningless almost.

I’ve tried for the last few weeks to keep things “light,” intentionally staying away from referring to the pandemic and sharing how it has been affecting me personally. It was my way of keeping things positive, a way of not adding another burden to whoever read my blog or came across my posts.

But the more I operated out of that mindset, the more I felt like a phony. It didn’t matter whether I shared somber or genuinely positive material, something was still getting in the way—it was my subconscious expectation to ignore the pain.

So, as a means to clear the air with myself, I recognize my need to be honest and acknowledge that sometimes that includes uncomfortable realities and contradicting sentiments. Moving forward, I will share stories and drawings from a place of permission. May I return to this page whenever I need reminding of that.

Playing with shadows.
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Creativity, sketches

A ghoulish morning

I haven’t been writing much, but this last week I connected with people I haven’t seen in years. I’m talking close to seven years since I last saw some of them, some of who I never thought I’d be catching up with.

I may not have posted about these experiences, but I count this time spent with them as part of the creative process. Just as you let things simmer in order to intensify in flavor, so does conversation and interaction feed the work you’re doing, sometimes without even knowing it.

Talk is the exercise ground for writing. It is the way we learn about communication—what makes people interested, what makes them bored… Talk is a way to warm up for the big game—the hours you write alone with your pen and notebook.

Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones (84).

To keep the flow going, I’ve lined up a few more conversations for this week, mainly with other artists. I’m excited to see what comes of them.

Also, for kicks, here’s this morning ghoul in boots, inspired by an artist I once met in Chapultepec, MX. I felt like keeping the ghoulish theme going.

Inspired by @mcfly.
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encouragement

Corazón cantante

Algo que mejoró mi día fue escuchar a Silvana Estrada cantar en vivo en Instagram este miércoles pasado. Como varios músicos durante esta cuarentena, Silvana cantó desde la comodidad de su casa, llegando a las salas de sus escuchantes. Yo andaba en mi cuarto y acababa de terminar mi trabajo cuando me topé con su video en vivo. Sin querer, estaba a tiempo.

Con tan solo escucharla tocar, mi corazón se alegró de una forma inesperada. Sentí una emoción correr dentro de mí que casi me hacía llorar. El sonido del cuatro y la letra de sus canciones invocaron un sentimiento profundo, parecido al momento cuando recuerdas algo que habías olvidado desde hace mucho tiempo.

Fue un encuentro no tan solo con la música, pero con algo de mí misma. Me reencontré con la idea de que yo también puedo ser como ella, no en el mundo musical si no en el ámbito creativo. Que, aunque unas veces no lo vea, yo también puedo reflejar esa luz.

Aquí Silvana canta “Carta,” una de mis canciones favoritas suyas.

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Insecurity

It’s been foggy

So, I know it’s been a week since I said I was going to be posting “every other day,” and I have yet to do so.

It’s been hard, this week. I’ve been foggy and unsure as to why I can’t seem to prioritize the things I want (and know I need) to do that keep me going.

It might be the weather. It might be me. But it might, in fact, be both.

I’m sad to see how distracted I get, to recognize how cluttered my mind is and not know what to do with it. And I freeze.

Where do you begin when it seems like it’s too much to start? When the answer is not easy?

This morning’s thoughts.
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Creativity

Know thyself

Here are a couple of things about me that I’ve learned in these last two years that, for the most part, are true:

  1. Whenever I say that I’m “trying” to do something (i.e. trying to eat healthier), it actually means I’m just thinking about the idea, not actually doing it.
  2. However, whenever I say that I’m “thinking about” doing something (i.e. thinking about joining a gym), it actually means I’ve made up my mind to do so but have yet to implement it.

It’s confusing, I know, but this is how I roll.

With that said, I’ve been trying to come up with a weekly system for sharing things on my blog and have been thinking about creating a basic daily schedule for my creative projects.

In other words, I have yet to figure out how often I’m going to be sharing and the time of day when I’ll be sharing them.

As of now, I have the tendency to write toward the end of the day, but (as you might have guessed) it tends to interfere with my sleep schedule. And although it would be ideal to wake up and immediately start writing, it’s not realistic.

So, all that is to say that I’m going to be posting at least every other day in order to keep sharing and keep work flowing. I had yet to be clear about it and thought now would be the opportune time.

All I know is, there’s a lot to write about.

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humor, Insecurity

I’m sorry, but you’ve thrown off the emperor’s groove…

It’s 2:30 a.m., and I’ve literally been drafting this post for the last three and a half hours. I’ve held on for this long to ensure that I at least post something.

Despite having a running list of things to share, fear has been getting the best of me. It’s been like this since the beginning of December, which is worrisome. I’m working on dismantling it.

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Creativity

It’s time to face it

I was walking toward the train station at Fairbanks St. yesterday when I looked up to the sky to reflect on an idea coming to mind: I think I need to “come out” to myself about my creative life.

The thought was in reference to Jerry Before Seinfeld, when Jerry jokes about his experience of “coming out” to his parents about wanting to become a comedian.

On the night his parents first see him perform, Jerry reflects:

I was so nervous that night, because I was showing them this whole side of myself, it was like my little gay-closet moment, you know, where I had to say, “Mom, Dad, I’m…I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m a funny person.”

Jerry jokes about now wanting to have a “funny lifestyle” and having “funny friends.”

Although I have creative projects here and there (most of which I don’t finish) and post elements of them on Instagram, I still lack the internal “oomph” to own that creativity is a (big) part of my life.

I surround myself with colors and things that inspire me, yet I feel like I haven’t fully embraced this part of myself. I feel like I haven’t really let myself go.

And that’s what I’m missing.

Admitting, accepting, and acting on the fact that I’m a “creative person” (as Jerry might put it) would only bring more beauty to this world.

So why not share it?

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