Saturday, June 5, 2021

Grammar Corrections and Other Ways to Say, "I Love You."


On Other People's Grammar:

   I so often fall short of my own grammatical goals, Inevitably, I'll publish this with errors, and go back and correct later, or not. Sometimes I want others to know it happens to me too, so I leave it. It's just that it often comes up between friends on the Autism Spectrum. Accuracy in grammar appears, to my experience, to be a shared interest among many of us keeping in mind that, "If you've met one Autistic person, you've met one Autistic person, and yes, I do say, "Autistic person" as well as, "Person with Autism." That particular wording, and reasons behind it belong to the Autistic person saying it, as far as I'm concerned, and I don't mind if you disagree in the least. How grand! I'm o.k./you're o.k., as it were. 
   On to the topic, right after this completely irrelevant painting. :) 

"Seascape in Blue" 2012
6x6" Oil on Canvas.

   For me, It depends on my perception of the friendship, but some of these relationships are too tender for me to offer my fallible ideas of correctness. Sometimes accuracy is imperfect when it takes away from the value of a moment or breaks the heart of a dear friend. I may see your grammar error, but it doesn't always matter to me. I, for instance have eyebrows that don't match. Most of my friends graciously overlook it in favor of whatever else they may like about me. Weirdos. Similarly, Eye Donut Kare If U Mizpell a wErd (I do not care if you mispell a word), if I am perceptive enough to see it's coming from your heart. If I'm not or it isn't, I've no problem simply leaving. Why torture eachother?

    If I think your goal is to be accurate and you've asked me to edit, I'll be happy to red pencil your commas. I don't do it for free indefinitely. Just like painting or tutorials. I value me. :)

   If you are many, but not all Autistic people, I might point out the error out of sheer mercy, because I know my own errors bother me, and if you're like me, you would probably appreciate the help from a like minded person who would never point it out for the purpose of harm, but out of compassion. Autistic people are generally very kind and helpful.

    I've learned a lot of people like my kindness, but are not so big on my (Questionable) grammatical skills. I'm not here to edit the world. Sometimes my best contribution is to enjoy it even if I don't like the extra spice of a misplaced participle. It's not my thing, and my eyebrows may not be theirs. If they can afford me lenience, I too can offer it, even if we both may be getting on one another's last nerve. I'm tough. I've survived worse, and I like the people I like.

     I do have an extensive list of what's important to me in any kind of relationship. I love book learnin' and grammar that is socially acceptable according to the Encyclopedia Britannica crowd (You sexy bunch!), but it's far, far down the list of what matters to me personally. If you're kind, I don't care how you talk or write. If you're unkind, be gone or fuck off -whatever phraseology you prefer.

    I've become more flexible, and let it not go without saying (as always) not all Autistic people are alike. I am able to bend more than some just like Neurotypicals. I'm also perhaps more aware of how my actions impact others than some are. I think this is learned in me, resulting from experience having had people tell me they were upset over me trying to help them by correcting their grammar. It doesn't have to make sense to me in order for me to understand, they, for whatever reason, don't like it. I, therefore, don't do it with that person.

   I don't like sweet potatoes, and it's kind when you don't give them to me anyway. Similarly, you may not like grammatical correction, and respecting your tastes, I wont give them to you. We shall keep our respective grammar and sweet potatoes to ourselves out of compassion. I'm still authentically me. I just don't share that facet of myself with that person. There are things about you I'd rather not know too. 

  Further, finding that skill of mine had monetary value, I've become less likely to dole out editorial flare, such as it is, with just anyone. I am not here to earn your accolades, degrees or paychecks. I have had people, "Want me for my brain," and I'm talking to you, Autistic people and anyone with a particular skill(s): 
You are valuable and worthy of respect as a whole human being. 
You are valuable and worthy of respect as a whole human being. 
You are valuable and worthy of respect as a whole human being. 
(No need to, "Read that again," which is gaslighting whether or not I think you want or warrant an edit.)

    If I think someone is being intentionally antagonistic, I'm not likely to respond, because they've bored me. This is difficult, as I also don't respond when I've nothing to add to your observation as well. Often, I feel you've said it better than I cud. [sic] :D Sometimes, it's because I want you to shine. If I could, I'd go back and draw a Yellow highlight over your words. Many are far smarter than I am and have insights I might never have had. Sometimes, it's that I'm accustomed to you enjoying the last word, and I'm happy to allow it. I enjoy it when you, "Win." I'm serious about that, it's fun for me. Sometimes, I've had a trusted friend point out the person was trying to be mean. It's disconcerting, as I wonder what is bothering them, but it's also fun, because (LOL!) I didn't get it, therefore, it didn't work. I get amused, and lacking theory of mind, I assume the, "Mean" person trying to hurt me is in on the game, and we'll try it again sometime. I really want others to succeed in whatever their goals are. I believe in you! I think you're smart enough to know that it's a game too. I mean, you created the game. I wouldn't have thought of it, but it's brilliant. What a great idea! Bravo! We shall play cat and mouse purely for entertainment purposes, and I'll be gentle, I promise. 

    My preference for grammatical correctness is a lot like a dick and religion. I'm not going to shove it down your throat. Sometimes correctness is imperfect, and I find the sweetness of exactitude in a little tenderness. Often, I let a lot slide in order to hit the right spot that expresses my care for another, be it through editing, asking them to clarify their aim, or simply enjoying the person as they are just as I would have them enjoy me. They, after all are certainly letting a lot slide about me. For the most part, Autistic or Neurotypical, I believe we're on the same team

On Asking:

     I cannot always intuit what a conversation calls for from me. I have to ask, and if it doesn't occur to me, others have to ask me for what they need. In fact, it's every so much more effective, if they tell me what they need. 
    Failing to say what we need is a problem not limited to Autistic/Neurotypical interactions. In fact it is the source of many a failure of marriages, friendships and the loss of many sweet familial relationships. Not everything can be solved by saying what we need, but it does a lot toward whittling down the amount of effort it takes to enjoy the company of another human being in all areas of life. 

   To my way of seeing, among the cisgendered, this problem seems more pronounced among Neurotypical females who being perhaps more aware of the subtlety of expression in Neurotypical males as well as what's been socially acceptable for their own behaviors and desires, may be unfairly burdened with unreasonable repercussions, real or feared of, for simply saying, "I want...." I have less of a problem with it due to Autism which makes me less impressed by the judgements of others, but I'm not at all immune. I've had to grow the bravery to ask too, and I admire anyone with the courage to confront those fears regardless of Neurological identification or gender identification. It's not easy, but it pays in dividends. As well put, "Ask and ye shall receive." If it's a true need, and they continually couldn't care less, perhaps reevaluate why you're asking that person. You may need something they simply don't have in store. I've seen this problem in terms of compassion. If they don't have it, and I need it, I can ask all day, and will never receive it. Further, the way they have of expressing even an abundance of compassion, may not be they type with which I feel safe.
    We, each of us, don't fit all other humans. We also don't *not fit all other humans. :) We are perfectly different individuals just like the next person.

   If I realize my own humanness, I must certainly realize it in others. I'm not sure friendship or any kind of love exists without necessary error. Where does love get to exercise, if you are but a reflection of fallible me? Although often beyond my reach, the willingness to embrace a dash of chaos like an error in grammar may be the perfect order. 

I'm a delightful mess, and so are you. How wonderful! 


Saturday, November 21, 2020

Despair, Hope And Imagination

  Thoughts on Hope.

I recently watched a video from Alain de Botton's, "The School of Life" on getting out of a despairing mood. It suggested hope as can come from imagination as a possible route. 


       I've painted and written, yet I don't see myself as containing a font of imagination. I follow such a pattern in painting that I wondered if I possesses even a spec, yet it turns out I have a lot!

    Worry is the evidence I can conjure imagination and profusely. It's more a gusher than a font. It's more difficult, however to imagine pleasant things in the midst of fear. I've thought a lot of movies lately and how we must suspend our belief in reality in order to experience the story and the emotions likely in the characters. This suspending of our reality may be just what it takes to dream again.

     I don't hope or dream, not in the sense of wishing for any person, thing or circumstance I don't already have. I don't long for some situation where I would no longer be me, having self-proved, "Wherever you go, there you are," far more times than those quicker on the uptake. 

     I didn't suddenly become unaware of societal standards for the dreams I ought to have. I just learned to laugh at myself more. I've a grand crush on reality in all it's annoyances and splendor. I'm grateful, and without expectation. I used to experience what I've heard called a "Divine Dissatisfaction" as described by Father Ed. Dowling, a Jesuit Priest from St. Louis circa 1930. I felt restless. I didn't know what I should want. I only felt something was missing. Hope, for me is an excellent stage for disappointment. This restlessness right in the middle of happiness or peace gave me a small space not to dream of something from the limits of my imagination, but that there might be some wonder I wasn't yet capable of imagining. If I'm so content, what's my worry with dreaming? Becoming content is not an easy path, because you have walk through giving up all the way to seeing what's right here in front of you bloom. It isn't done in an afternoon, and can take a lot of loss. The world has been through enough loss lately. I think they need to dream hope. I was feeling quite alone in my affair with the present moment when I saw a friend had posted a loved poem by Mary Oliver. 

Wild Geese 
 "You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile, the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -over and over announcing your place in the family of things." Mary Oliver

    I'd be an absolute hypocrite if I too didn't dare dunk my toes back in that ocean, dangerous as it may be. Now -what to dream? I could dream of more moments, not of things on the outside but expanding the inside, of seeing my own heart in more leaves, flights of birds and trees. Wait! Maybe I could dream others get what they want. Maybe I can dream peace of mind for everyone or would you rather something else? 

   A new job, car, home, love, that the pandemic go away? I wish, if they'd give you peace that I could give all of these. Maybe, then peace of mind is the path to all of our dreams and more. The car that would make us feel enough, the house with prestige, the end of illness and poverty, the romance that would give us a sense of home. All of these are temorary sensations, unless be bring serenity with us.
 I dare say, researchers for a cure approach their work with a clear mind and exacting focus on the moment too.  

   You and I may not be in the laboratories, but we may be among the families and friends, coworkers and even internet acquaintances of those who are. If my life is in their hands, it seems I'd do best to add whatever peace I can to their work, by simply taking care of my own serenity. The same goes for our effect on loved ones and those loading our groceries. Please don't underestimate the widespread need and healing effect of your own self care. Our own peace of mind can add to and even save the lives of others. All of us are touched by this disease, and to my mind, it's going to take all of us to get through it.

      We as humans have been through so much grave loss. I am so sorry for all that we have and will go through. For now, I find comfort in the moments of peace, the breeze, the turning leaf, and my fallible effort to comfort others. I can't stop all of this pain, but with all I have, in my heart, I sit with you. If not now, the time will come to feel it all, and it's mine to promise you, there is another sunrise after all of this, and there will be more reason to hope and dream.


Thursday, July 16, 2020

Last Night's Simple Dream

Last Night's Simple Dream

    It's a silly thing, I suppose - sharing something like a dream with no meaning and no reason other than that it was just nice. It wasn't deep, and there's no plot. There's no moral to the story, and nothing to work out. No problems to solve, and nothing that memorable, except, it was nice.

  I'd hosted a small party of about 20 people for an informal, possibly pot luck, get together. It was my house, and nice and dark and comfortable. There were groups of 3 and 5's of people chatting in the living room and on the front porch. It was dusk and very relaxed. I had thought of opening my office/library for mingling, but had the French doors closed. I was looking around to see if I needed to tidy anything or if anyone needed coffee or sodas, when someone told me we had another guest, and it was Gene. 

   He was an old friend, and they said he needed to see me. I wondered what was up, but was glad to see him, and took him through the party, as everyone said their, "Hellos." I offered we could talk in the library, and he said, very cheerfully, "Why don't we go for a ride?" I thought it sounded like fun, so we went out the back door where cars were parked. I said, "Why don't we take both cars?" and he thought it was a great idea. I've no idea what happened to whatever it was he wanted to talk about. This was Gene Wilder, by the way. Great to see him, and I did not know him, but in the dream.

   I set out driving on a road I've driven on in many dreams. I don't know where I'm imagining, but it curves gently, and sometimes there's a bridge, and I drive off a small ramp to the Right and down to a creek that leads into the large body of water, and I sit alone on the large reddish or rust colored, smooth boulder with my feet hanging off, away from everyone, and I watch the water. It is the most peaceful, beautiful dream.

    This time, Gene was driving behind me, and I could see him smiling in the mirror. There is always a curve that I'm more careful on, so as not to go off the road. I saw it ahead just as Gene passed me smiling, and turned Right, out into the water, and I laughed, and thought, "That's just like Gene," and his car became a motorized John boat. He waved with a laughter filled, "Until next time," and I was glad I got to see him, and glad to see him happy. I thought I'd drive down to the little off ramp that took me to the boulder where I could sit and watch the water. I kept thinking it was a beautiful day.


Wednesday, July 1, 2020

Thoughts on Mourning: Recent passing of Carl Reiner

Thoughts on Mourning: (Mel Brooks after Carl Reiner's death.)

 Thoughts.... I'm worried about Mel Brooks. He was married to that ridiculously pretty lady, and it hurt him when she died. Anne Bancroft, that was her name. They seemed so in love. Carl Reiner sort of made it bearable for him. They did an old Black and White bit together. I saw an interview, and the two of them talked like an old married couple finishing one another's sentences...laughing. They've been friends so long, and Mr. Reiner passed away last night. So wrong. I mean, maybe Ms. Bancroft and Mr. Reiner had their, "Forever after" in Mel Brooks, and he's done nothing but give us all laughs, but damn. What about his forever after? It's just not right. I don't mind being, "Alone." I like a quiet life of solitude, but it's not for everyone, and I don't think it's for Mel Brooks. He was good at being one of a pair. I think if people are close friends or couples, then both of them should have to live until they both croak, so no one has to miss anybody. That's all.

 The part that didn't go on Facebook, about me.

 It's not fair to me that some people really do love one another, and it lasts so many years, and grows and they bond, then it's gone. I know there is no better way. It's the design, perhaps,  and everyone has a story, but if it lasts, then I think it might be worse letting go. If you did the work, and got to that place together, it ought to last. Of course, I've lost people, and loves of my life began dropping off when I was a teen, and three more followed over the years. It was worth it every time,at least to me to love and be loved, and although I was gutted, after a little healing, I was glad that, if they had to go, at least someone gentle was with them, at least someone loved them, and it was me rather than someone who'd be mean.

   I was their, "Forever after." I had to find something to hold on to, something that wouldn't die, and that's why I began meditating. It comforted me when arms could not. Every death is horrible and even if you know it's coming, it rips a person apart. If not for thinking at least they had someone, then it would all be so useless. sighs.

  That pain is so great, that it rivals the pain of being alone, and eventually I came to peace with accepting either way, peace no matter which way the tears fell, and peace even when, seemingly blasphemous, I felt something like ...happiness.

   There is sorrow the depths of which I cannot describe walking around with my love and serenity. Is this what it is to be human? I think it is. I had to love, and if people can't live forever, and if I were to have no forever after or something that arrived near the end which no one can count on, or not, then I would crack myself open. Boundaries, and hopelessness be damned! I'd love the whole World exactly as it was, and not even death could stop me.

  Sometimes I look at the statues of nuns in bliss over the expanse of their love and maybe there's something bigger to cause it, maybe it's the nature of humans. All I know is I've lived a life that didn't need "Eternal" love, else it would have been there, and my god, it felt like I needed it, but I was wrong. I felt the desperate hunger everyone else does, but the sustenance of romantic passion was fleeting and somehow not a thing that I could hold on to, no matter how much they wanted to stay and how much I wanted stay. Sighs, I know this love, and somehow it is for others. Still self pity, balm that it may be, is no sustenance.

   What I needed more than anything was to love, so I did, and subsequently found myself loved. Isn't that strange, delightfully strange? I may not get to have a forever after with one, and I've found peace with the bittersweet beauty of love anyway, but this is not a path I'd wish on anyone. It is hard, harder than building walls against it, the surrender to love or let go always in limbo and open empath in bliss and agony. I re-feel the sorrow of letting that dream die whenever someone else experiences catastrophic loss. I pray they find someone else, but should they not, I know another way. I may be insane, and I recommend it, but I know love that's greater than I can at times bear. Still, even as I melt in moments into love itself, sighs. You can't really split a cookie with or hold Universal Love.
   I'm o.k. to grow old this way or not. I'm open to romantic love and have been for many years. It doesn't come anymore, now that I don't hunt it down, neither fighting it, nor seeking.  I laugh at myself. It never was something to capture or hide from. In truth, it just happened, and it stopped happening. I don't know why, and that's o.k.
   I'm also open to being in solitude. At times partnered, I longed for such quiet too, but again I tell you, you can be happy either way. I don't skip through fields of flowers single, but I didn't do that coupled either. Either way, there's good work to be done, play to be had, and satisfaction mixed with desires. Either way, there is growth, rest and reflection. Overall, although, I pine romantic at times, I have, in fact, been happier alone. That's what I'm not sure other people have.


Thursday, June 4, 2020

I Love You And There's Not A Damn Thing You Can Do About It

Just so you know, I love you. 
That's right, I love you.
 I love you, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. 
I love you like you are and how ever you'll be tomorrow. 
You don't have to do what i do for me to love you.
 You don't have to like what I like, feel what I feel, eat what I eat, dance like I dance, believe what I believe, create how I create, sign what I sign, protest what I protest, vote for what I vote for. Can you hear me? I love you. 
It's for free, and it's for fun, and it's for me. 
It's mine and you can't take it away. I love you, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. 
This doesn't mean I'll put up with your shit.
 In fact, I love you so much, I'll tell you when you're full of it. 
This doesn't mean I'll let you hurt me. 
 I wouldn't enable someone I love. 
This doesn't mean you have to love me. 
If you tell me to fuck off, and walk away today, and I never see you again, I'll still be loving you.
 I  may or may not let you back in my life, but I love you.
 I love you, because it's good
 I love you, and that is none of your business. It's mine. 
This way, I get to be in love all day long. 
Even when I'm pissed, I'm loving you. 
There is not a damn thing you can do about it.
 I love you, because it makes my life better. 
I don't love you, because Jesus or Mohammed said so. 
I just love you, because I do. 
This doesn't mean I'll like you every minute. Some of you are jerks.
I still love you even if I block you. 
I love you if I change my mind.
 It doesn't mean that I'm going to do the right thing. 
It doesn't mean that I'll always be nice. 
 It doesn't mean that I expect anything from you. 
It doesn't mean that you owe me anything, nor that I owe you. 
It means that regardless of what gain or loss it might mean to me, with all that I am I wish you every joy. 
 With or without me, I wish you love. 
I hope you laugh today, and I hope in a moment you find yourself overwhelmed at the beauty there is to be your very own heart.
 I hope you fall in love with a cloud, and that you find yourself giggling at a funny pet.
 I hope you share a big laugh at a dirty joke today.
 I hope you see your own heart in the eyes of someone who is different from you. 
I hope you know the safe, and humble place of falling to tears over how much you are loved by someone you never thought would express it.
I hope you find the courage to express it to someone else. 
I hope you play, dance and catch the biggest fish or the littlest, whichever makes you smile more. 
I wish you stillness to hear the crickets singing for fireflies and stars in your nights.
 I wish you clean water, plenty of food, good shelter and the smiles of friends.
 I wish you good health, and the simple pleasure of a good stretch. 
I wish you awkward, amazing, ridiculously fantastic sex.
I hope you'll see how special and important you are, that you are the very mind, heart and hands of the gods, and I hope you realize yourself to be one with everything at least once.
 I hope you tremble at your own smallness and breathe the vast love that's really you.
 I hope you see you like I do...I love you.


p.s. This writing was surely influenced by Chuck Chamberlain in his book, "A New Pair Of Glasses," which I first read many years ago, and repeatedly since. It's one I've lent out and given away out of love. It's written simply and to the point. The author is uplifting and encouraging, and I'd recommend it to anyone. 

Wednesday, January 8, 2020

To a Younger Artist On Selling Art (directly)

   I need to tell you, I stopped selling years ago due to how stressful it was for me to deal with discussing finances with people. A huge chunk of it was self worth issues. The ways I did best weren't as direct, but not facing it wasn't really good for me either. I waffle. I never made enough to survive off of art, but I did make enough to buy supplies...sometimes. I did sell some face to face, and was glad to stop. lol! I wont be going into gallery sales as I never sold that way beyond a one time/three painting sale from a general consignment shop, so it helps to have an open mind.

  I made enough to pay for my daughter's family's groceries many years back, when W's factory closings meant my son in law lost his job. They did all they could, and my daughter did the customer interaction online and handled the sales. The price and product was set up front, so no pressure to do something out of the Blue for me.

What Worked
I sold what I made. Occassionally, I did a request, but it was within a line of what I was doing easily. I wasn't selling what I loved most. Rather, I looked at what was selling already in the area of what I knew I could do and quickly. At that time, it was Yorkshire Terriers on anything including purses. I did a lot of trinket boxes and I even painted some shoes.

 It's Ebay, so some were new and some were used. I went to outlets, but I also went to Salvation Army, Goodwill, found the best which meant sometimes $70 purses were mine for $2. I brought them home, cleaned them, made them look and smell like new, then I did surface prep, a base of White, then I painted rather cartoonish dogs. I did five a day minimum. I was quick, and although initially, I thought the dogs were really adorable, even wanted one, I came to become so sick of looking at them, after about 3 months of morning to night work. They were selling. I got $75 once every few days, otherwise, they were going for $25, and I did some head only paintings on things like wallets. that went for sometimes as little as $5-$10.00.  

 The reason for the Yorkies was in part that I aimed at a certain little was about actually creating a painting. I thought to myself, "Who has extra money enough and loves a bargain enough to be looking on Ebay for art?" The answer was and likely is, women 40-70 who are financially comfortable and in love with their dogs! Ping their heart with a cartoon that looks like, "Fluffy" and make it portable art they can brag to their friends about, resulting in free advertisement for me! I was giving them something beautiful and some joy and a talking point about their pet. They returned the favor with cash for my grandkid's grocery bill.

   I had a boutique in South America buying 5 at a time. Sales were going to China, France, England any country out there and all over the States. It was exhilarating....and exhausting, but it fed my kids. Today, if I were going to do that, I'd set up and Etsy shop, and get big online. Think it terms of networking but like an octopus. lol! Make ways to get in touch with your  main body of work and sales on every public venue you're on/in both online and in person. Make sure that if they want what you do, you are the one to come to and make it easy for them. 

  That means joining all the sites, and talking about your work a lot, posting pics of it. Interacting with people who are frankly buying your personality as much as the item. No matter how good your work, they want to see your face too, and that was hard for me, but I'm obviously past it now. People love to be entertained, and they love videos. If you do a simple slide show of your work, put it on youtube, and monetize it, so you might get a few dollars from that video too, then share that video on Facebook, your blog, Twitter, and anywhere else you are online. 

   If you are really good at creating a certain thing, consider a How-to video or set of CDs, and only post highlights to advertise it online then sell the CD's. Consider in-person classes on what you know or even Pay ahead Face-to-Face video instruction. Be open to ways for your art to reach people. I sold  CD sets on portraiture, and I stopped production. As I learned more about making videos, I saw clearly that my video quality wasn't that great, and despite requests for more, I refused to sell them as they weren't up to my new standards and ability due to simply knowing more about lighting. Have boundaries and a firm self respect and you can respect the customers too. Give them your best.

   The focus is to create what you know, and what flows, not what you, "Can" do that is still a lot of work. I can lift a 50 lb bag of dog food, but if I do that all day, I'll break me. I had a similar run decades ago with mallards, and I was eyeing the Duck Stamp, but never went there. Others were better than I was at it, but I did sell. That time it was mallards and  a string of things that sold in a rural farming community. What art do you see when you go to their houses, more directly when you drive by? Nods, I'm talking mallards for days on mailboxes, saws....I didn't even buy these supports, except for the first few. I painted a few craft ones, sanded and primed a few antique ones, and a local beautician friend suggested I hang a few in her shop to they went, and people began bringing me their own saws, flat and circular. They loved contributing to be part of the process of their finished product. I was painting often, "Grandpa's old saw." I did one I think it was a 6 ft'er double handles, two man saw of an eagle, one of bears, many, many deer, but mostly it was mallards. In that case, buyers who were used to paying the beautician for a service, spoke to her first about, "The artist" so they were already in the mindset that this is something you pay for. Because these saw like the yorkies were seen in public, my name was out there, and the saws were a local status symbol and fashion statement....I'm the female form of, "The Dude." I abide. lol! Suddenly, I'm stylish.

 ...About the videos, I created several art videos that are still on youtube, and they are grouped together, but those tend to attract some rather nasty artists's comments rather than interested people. You're not there to impress them. They could be busy creating their own art, if they were serious instead of harassing others. Block them it's only an extension to your calling card and the truth is some of them are lonely 11 year olds enjoying a shot at a little troll power. Yawn. You have more that is valuable, meaning I think people would sit through ad (which make you revenue) for it. Your life experience talk. It obviously has helped people, even if you don't put ads on it, and only on a few other videos about your art, people will love it, share it, and they come to your videos and see what else you've got going on. You can link to earning videos from an altruistic one too. Every click earns you pennies, and they can add up. I know this because it happened by accident to me. I had some art videos, wasn't selling much, but my heart went out to people who didn't understand that Autistic people grow and learn, so I just told them about me. ...Read. I wasn't trying to sell anything. Do whatever you do, because it's fun and it feels good.

  I can't possibly offer and extensive list of what worked in sales for me, in part, because I hardly consider myself, "That" successful, but I did have successes at it, and I learned some of the internet rhythms of getting my work and myself out there. At the moment, I have other goals and responsibilities that require 110% of me, and my main focus is peace of mind. 

   I hope you find something of inspiration here, and do keep in mind, others will know far more. Welcome their input, take what you can use and leave the rest. Be understanding and patient when you can with the next artist who may one day need your ideas, and realize there are eyes looking up to you long before you sell your first painting. Whatever you choose to do, be it sell, not sell, or occasionally sell, be true to you. 

with love, 

Monday, August 26, 2019

Relationships; Growing Through Solitude

    Despite being single, I've experienced ongoing relationship growth including the awareness that with or without a significant other, I've had the same problems. I've gone through the good and the bad all by myself. the difference is I know that I get total credit and blame. I have responsibility and ownership for how I feel, and I've felt the same things. I've felt 100% loved and accepted, even cherished.... alone. I've felt undesirable, like I was in the way, abandoned, unloved...all of the feelings that lead to breakups, except I was alone. I've felt sexy, powerful, intelligent, helpless, confident, and terrified both in and out of relationships. This lesson for me has come in layers.

   A few unfortunately obsessed strangers triggered this latest realization. Apparently, they first saw me on my Youtube channel, and developed a fixation of sorts. They've written a lot, and a few have, but some are more tenacious. I try to take the Lady Gaga approach, in that I'm not angry about it. It's not about, "Me," but more of a, "Celebrity" thing, and if I could, I'd send them sandwiches. They've no idea if I've even seen their notes or not, and I haven't read them all. In truth, there isn't enough time in the day even if I wanted to do so. We've never had any exchange whatsoever. Still, they have had the whole range of relationship experiences through these emails. They've been, "In love," in hate, they've judged, blamed, bargained, tried to be understanding to, "Make it work," and they've seemed to get hold of themselves, and let go for periods of time, then fall right back into the obsession...with a person they don't even know other than a talking head on some videos.

    For me, those videos are something I've done, something of acting, and something of myself for those moments in time but not, "Me" on the whole. At the very least, time has passed, and people change and grow. The writer has been stuck there like falling for a photograph in a magazine. This is why I don't take it personally. 

  I once imagined Peter Tork and I would fall in love and live happily ever after, and he too had no idea. The difference is, I didn't think he needed to know, and I didn't take it that seriously that I thought to stalk him. Still, I've written posts on celebrities pages, but not one after another or for years on end. The point being, the writer went through this range of experience without my input.

    Now seeing that I've had those similar feelings within relationships, and outside of them. I have to wonder how much of my relationships was real. Just because I can touch you, that doesn't mean that I know you. When I blamed myself or him, maybe it was just life, and we were sort of one another's fans for a time. Now, within the relationships, I dropped the word, "Blame," long ago, and was just working on things that hurt as they came along, but eventually, I did need his help, and he couldn't be bothered. I didn't expect to never have problems, but if I was the only one working on them, or trying to hold it together, it didn't and wouldn't work. You cannot have a working relationship on your own. 

  I gave out from exhaustion one day, trying to hold something together that was draining me at best, when it worked at all, by then. He just wasn't willing, until we broke up, but I'd heard that song for so long, and I couldn't take one more injury to my heart at the time. I was just too broken by then. It seemed we both stood a better chance at survival and maybe even happiness alone, and I think it worked out o.k.

   Last night, I had the same revelation when I watched the movie, "Her." She, the female lead, wasn't real either, in the conventional sense, any more than a recorded memory of someone on a youtube screen. It was all in his mind as he was only interacting with an Operating System. I thought to myself, "Isn't that what we're all doing, here on Facebook, Instagram or elsewhere online where we are having the, "Real" experiences with all of the faults, flaws, joys, tears, and laughter of friendships, while, I cannot put my arms around you?" I really thought about how much you all add to my life while I am, "Alone." 

   Of course you're not Operating Systems or Artificial Intelligence, even one that grows and learns and adapts according to the people you interact with, but humans do that too. I am malleable to you, and you are to me. We affect each other, while remaining ourselves in the healthiest of circumstances. In the movie, the male lead character fell in love, and who, wanting, has not wished we were hundreds or thousands of miles from where we are? Who has not experienced the very real heartbreak of rejection when our love interest found someone, "With a body," nearby...someone to hold? Who hasn't looked at other places and cultures and thought they'd fit, perhaps better there? Who hasn't moped over goodbyes, or felt fear when the beloved didn't sign in online, the same as if a spouse didn't make it home?   
  Is it all the same; one colossal gorgeous mind-fuck? The activities are different, but the feelings are the same. It doesn't seem to matter which way you choose. This all comes down to the most profound question my spiritual mentor asked me long ago. 

    What do you want?

  Perhaps we are that basic or amazing that the answers are all in our instincts. Our desires or chemistry, if you will, might be the deciding factor in where and how we experience our particular glorious mess of a life.

   I have no answers.