motive

having a mutual enemy
makes us mutual friends
don’t you see? she asks.
although i swear months before,
i was the enemy she spoke of.
we are not mutually exclusive to who we detest
& we can join, & disband any campaign of our choosing

the difference is,
i was not your friend,
so it was ok to wrong me.
she, in fact, was your friend,
so her wrong doings are unforgivable.
& although she hasn’t,
in true form, “wronged” me.. you’d like an accomplice.
someone to balance out the bully in you
someone to bear the burden of blame when she wakes up to this all.

what petty wars wage
over such unworthy men.

take two.

some additions to the ever-growing list of learned:
1. unforeseen job stress = the quickest, & unhealthiest way to lose weight fast (not recommended)

2. your true friends will rise to the occasion, & carry you home in shambles on nights you’re so defeated that you don’t know how to piece your confidence back together.. & never hold it against you

3. sometimes people need that cheesy, corny, confidence boosting pep-talk… because it feels good to hear that someone out there believes in you; & vice versa. i find myself scrolling slower over those inspirational quotes that people post on instagram & having one of those, “oh my god. it gets me!” moments.

4. SAMs club is like that high school club that you never really wanted to join, but did so to see more of that hot guy who joined. only.. all the other club members are elderly cart-wheeling people who are easily distracted by free bite-sized samples. in this metaphor .. there really is no hot guy reward.

more to come.
im not down for the count yet.

unraveling

“It just didn’t seem like she wanted to share a life with him is all…

This part.  The conclusion. Lacking in so many details left out of a half-lived story, is what keeps me up at night.  that seam you keep thumbing over in your favorite jacket pocket that you wish you could just cut out but you know you run the risk of carelessly undoing the stitching. it’s a flaw. you know it’s a flaw. but you can’t part with it, because it’s a part of a bigger, greater, whole.

finances. not sharing incomes. i get it, people get funny when it comes to money. but like all other things in a relationship, you eventually learn to become comfortable with it right? like farting around one another, or confiding in one another about that one odd cousin you just wish would learn some table manners.  but if im perfectly fine keeping what’s mine as my own, and yours as yours, & not asking for loans from the bank of You, and vice versa.. and we take turns buying the groceries and splitting the electricity bill.. how is that not sharing?

the more scary, resounding truth for me, is not that the argument is about finances. but more, that two people, who are “ready” to spend their life together, can still have such disjointed views on what it means to “share a life together.”  people go through the motions, sharing what they believe, in checking off the boxes of what they are, aren’t, try to be, don’t want to be, but when it comes down to that grand scale of weighing out who’s giving, who’s taking, who’s getting enough, and who still needs more …  can someone really be in the wrong?

i have this thing about support and time. so the other stuff, the shared finances, the romantic gestures, the monetary gifts, are all minimal to me because i need someone to be my rock– sometimes when it’s not the most convenient for them.  maybe its a barter system in my head. i forgo-ed those, so let me have this. maybe its unfair. but ive never been in a relationship before, where what i gave in exchange for needing my other half in that way, wasn’t enough.. or unfair.

until this, i’ve never had to reason out why what i know to be a true way to win my heart, is important.. and why it should stay. or convince someone that i know what’s best for me, & no it doesn’t need more understanding on my part, or flexibility, when majority of the time i’m ok playing backseat to your other plans, your future, being your cheerleader to your successes & your ear to your failures (although there are few. see how much i look up to you?) i take a lot of energy, & a lot of talking myself out of my corners of defeat & off ledges of what i make out to be insurmountable fears.. but ive never been afraid of disclaiming that early on, so that anyone who doesn’t have the patience, or tolerance, can walk away risk free.

Maya Angelou once told Oprah, “When people show you who they are, believe them.” 

i feel…
like.
sometimes we stand on uneven playing fields.
& you see that we are
but i dont.
& you’re telling me to share,
play fair,
do it like you do.
& for the life of me,
i cant seem to get the coordination,
the gravity of the situation,
to get me to you.

month-old-manager’s memorandum

IMG_6424

a few things i have learned over my first 30 days:

  1. i am not superwoman
  2. positivity is infectious.. but sometimes coming up with that positive energy when there’s no one to first be infected by.. is the problem.
  3. “every. day. is. a. new. challenge.” can be both a way of overcoming the day at hand.. or dooming the next. haven’t quite decided which is truer.
  4. i have a bad habit of putting blind faith in leaders, only to become disappointed soon after when i learn firsthand of the exaggerations they’ve told, or see how thickly they’ve glossed over the truth.  i should trade that with how i approach my love life & i’d be set.
  5. my parents make the best sounding board. ever. hands down.

cheers to month two.

you call me the pessimist
the eternal realist
& wish i knew how to dream
& breathe optimism into the doubt i hold so dear & near to me

but then i think of the times
when i was floating
elated
hoping for things i know seemed intangible
silly even
but would it have killed you to have believed in me then?
if not the dream,
at least in me,
the dreamer
who you claim has never been
nor ever will be.

but i swear,
every death
every departed essence of someone
had a reason
for being, & then.. not being.
sometimes its easier to forget the motive
& just deal with the results.

MIA

work has consumed me.
i ache,
i am over extended,
i am spent.
a new challenge
every.
fucking.
day.

but this is what i wanted.
i needed a change to shake me from my dormant slumber
i am a force to be reckoned with.
im just waiting for that moment of reckoning.
right now
the quiet judgment
& underestimating looks
are bearable.
because i know better.

because i can fix every problem you throw at me.
just try.

b is for bed space

its all relative really,
twin, full, queen, king
its enough until theres one more in it
its strange how the body adjusts
halving wholes to accommodate
shared pillows, blankets,
leg room, head room
until all feels right & comfortable.

share your bed enough nights in a row
& your body builds a tolerance
for the way he “purs” on nights he’s just slightly tired,
& snores on nights he’s exhausted.
& your body memorizes
where your side of the bed ends,
& his begins
[spooning only allowed in the first ten minutes before he falls asleep]
& your body conditions
what 5:15am, 5:20am, 5:25am, & 5:30am feels like
because of the blare of your phone’s four alarms you set

you learn to like it
the pattern
the familiarity
the unacknowledged presence felt,
when you fall asleep next to him.

but then theres space
on nights alone.
& you readjust,
tossing & turning,
trying to find that sweet spot of bliss
somewhere in that dead space.

over time,
it reminds you
that you used to sleep best diagonally across the bed
woven between & around your comforter
with all three pillows guarding you.

it reminds you,
that it felt good to have bed space.

artist statement

comatose progress comatose

Comatose charcoal on hot press paper 24″x36″

i have a love-hate relationship with artist statements.  its right up there with resumes, & self-evaluations.  sometimes it seems making the piece was easier to create than that short statement that’s adjacent to your work.  it always feels more like a psychological test than a simple explanation of intent.  youre damned if you over simplify your objective, & youre damned if you dont at least try to convey that there was even a slight fleeting thought that motivated it.  i like to learn from the statement the medium used when installations seem effortless or on the flip-side, incomprehensibly complex.  other times, i read it to verify that what i got out of the work is what the artist intended me to get out of it… but thats the funny thing about art — once its created, it really doesnt matter what you meant to say, because people take it how they want to take it.  they appreciate it, or depreciate it as they see fit.  sometimes i think art can do without the statements entirely, and other times i wish they were more upfront.

my final college body of work was based around this internal struggle i had, about how what i make can be conceived, then perceived, any which way.  i wanted to create images that motivated the viewer to draw on prior experiences, memories, or maybe just their gut, and build a narrative around what they see.  their own biases fill in the gaps.

my work also ventured into role reversal, and playing with tensions either via body language, juxtaposition of figures, or the building up of pigment on the paper.

i suppose what i just wrote could function as an artist statement, and it actually may be a lot better than the ones i submitted for grades along with my art, because its candid.  either way, purging/sharing my struggles and successes will help me in the long run.

– mm.