The last few months have tested me beyond. And yet, it's not a test. It's just . . . life. And whatever the opposite of that is. In the what-must-be beginning of this grief, this happened the other day. (Comics aren't always comic, but you probably already know that.)
Diary of a Freelancer Redux
I want to encourage you. But give me a minute.
I'm an introvert, it turns out. I know you wouldn't think that, because I'm smirky and I'm a comic and I'm a redhead. But, turns out, I'd rather be drawing and writing than almost anything else on the planet. The three exceptions to this are:
- being on, or in, water
- traveling with my guys
- climbing Mayan temples
- eating Mexican* food
*Or, Indian food. Either one. Both magically delicious in their own amazing way!
I know, that's four!! And then, five, with the asterisk! Keep reading anyway!
I think you have to be pretty self-motivated, when you're a freelancer. And lately, I've been frustrated with what I am or am not getting done - that's a big piece of it too. In the last few months, I lost my dear Dad (very shaky still), and we've moved to a new city (this month), and I'm still staring at many unpacked boxes (intimidating, and where's my dang Martha White Corn Meal?). It's a (let's call it) challenging time of life. And I know "the West" gets it wrong, with grief, and how fast we should process things. But that's another bloggy wog. Sooooo, anytime I get down about my work, or my life, or my mood, I just pull out a sketchbook and my iPad . . . and I keep drawing, and I keep writing.
I talk to the Great Creator (which is a lot of what is in my head and on my pages) and I ask WHY? and WHY NOT? a lot. I think right now that God may be very bored with me, but somehow fascinated, like a now-jolly, now-angry kid watching a roly-poly on the sidewalk. And I ask God questions, and I think, hmmm. God is not answering, God is observing, or God is waiting, or God is binge-watching "Stranger Things" on Netflix, like everybody else. And I think about how small a word "God" is, for the Great Creator. And I want miracles for everyone with Parkinson's and Cancer. Right now.
I'm so glad to have my health, and mad that others don't.
And wondering why some people think they have to be mean to others. I'm horrified by what Leslie Jones has been going through, and proud of her for standing up to it. And mad about how that redirects her great, creative energy for a bit. Stealing her time (I'm always in a bad mood if you steal my time, even without all that hate attached.)
And then I'm back to me again, feeling inadequate, still, of all things! You would think that at this age, my middle-school insecurities would be wiped away, but nope, turns out, I'm human. Dammit. I keep trying to rise above that, but well, as you see.
And then I make a list of what I've done this year.
Which includes 300 drawings for two coloring books, plus comics and cartoons for Dirty Diamonds, The All-Girl Comics Anthology, an illustration for The Cartoonist, for the National Cartoonists Society, two comics and two ads for Magic Bullet (DC Conspiracy), my own work on Haint Blue, my it's-taking-forever graphic novel about the supernatural, and submitted my Fog of Worry panel comics to more than one syndicate (waiting on that). I've written and performed stories on stage with Story District DC and Storytalks NYC (Gotham Comedy Club), and performed my standup act at Comic Strip Live in NYC.
And I feel a little better, but cancer and Parkinson's are still attacking people I know and love, and their friends and family. I'm mad about that. I keep coming back to it.
And I spend a little time praying, and hoping prayer "works."
Back to drawing.
Hang in there, everybody, we are all on a journey no one else can really see. Because if they DID see, we would be embarrassed at how often we turn to brownies for solace, even if they ARE Fiber-One brownies, and so much better for you.
Right now I'm planning the fall cons - CreativeCon Panama City, and New York ComicCon. Well, I'm not the one planning them, who has time for that? (See: "Stranger Things".)
peace, love, and other things hippies say,
trl
FOG OF WORRY: What Else?
FOG OF WORRY: Dude and Death
Psych Book Drawings, Day 15
thought note: i love to draw angels - and iconic women - Anywayz. Yesterday, i buried a little tiny baby bird - outside my studio window, between the daffodils. I found him on our driveway, i think he left the nest a bit too early - and just didn't make it. made me really sad, even though i'd like to be all philosophical and talk like The Lion King "circle of life" stuff (remember when Simba asks, "hey why do we eat our friends, Dad?" - Yep. "Circle of Life." i like to think he's in a better place now (the bird, not Simba), but i don't know how all that works . . .
tech note: Faber-Castell artist pen, "F" (fine)
No Regrets - really?!
You know sometimes when you hear that movie quote "LOVE means never having to say you're sorry," and you think, well that's a crock o' crap?
That's how I feel when I hear people say, "No regrets," meaning, I presume that they don't regret, or allow themselves to think about regretting, ANYTHING. Which would be either, that they have delusions of perfection, or that they are totally in denial. Though, I'm sure I could use summa dat denial stuff, now and then. Like I'd like to forget about posting that Calista-Gingrich-has-woman-arrested-for-breastfeeding-in-public article, only to find out that it totally wasn't true. That is totally what I get for breaking my never-talk-about-the-candidate's-family-members-unless-it's-Todd-Palin rule. (Because, I mean, how can you NOT?)
Anyway, not to be sidetracked by my temporary dopiness, (hey, that IS a word!), THIS post is about regretting not having said or done certain things. When you lose a friend or family member, and you wonder what you could have done or said that would have made everything better . . . made things easier for that person in their last days, communicated how you felt and how much you truly loved them and were glad they were in your lives. I think the best we can do in this life is to make sure we are more OPEN than CLOSED.
It causes a lot of embarrassment, of course. Exposing yourself in certain ways can cost you.
But I remember when I decided to leave my job as an artist/writer at Hallmark - it was tough. I got to write and paint all day, and had lots of cool friends! But, I knew if I didn't leave to learn the craft of comedy, I would always look back and be sorry. I never wanted to get to my death-bed and be worrying about myself in that way.
I probably won't die by something like parachuting out of a plane, it will be something stupid like "She fell off her platform shoes into a tub of water while holding a plugged-in radio," or "She drank her turpentine instead of her Diet Coke while painting her last masterpiece," which, btw, is something I've actually done. Yes, I once drank a sip of turpentine by accident instead of my Diet Coke. Not much, obviously . . . I'm still here. (DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.) Also, now, I keep the turpentine v. far away from my beverage while I work. Also, I've switched to acrylics, so now it's just murky water tempting me.
Anywayz, I want to be more like Oscar Wilde and say something like (slight misquote): "Either that wallpaper goes, or I do."
Try to achieve great things, fail a lot, make fool of yourself, achieve some stuff, love your family and friends, (and your ENEMIES, too, if you are VERY evolved, like Jesus), and laugh a lot along the way.
Allrighty, then.
No regrets.
peace,
trl
p.s. - In tagging this latest post, the auto-fill jumped in when I typed "Jesus," and tried to fill in "Jerry Lewis." That was jarring.