every day

i think the only way for me not to feel useless and wasteful is to do something every day. and i don't mean watch three movies or clean the dishes, which is what i used to mean by it. today, for example, i forced my way through the creative photography handbook even though i really didn't feel like it. i really didn't feel like doing anything, but i'm glad i did if for no other reason than i didn't waste the whole day.

taking memories

i did some research about photography portfolios yesterday, found some good how-to articles but realized this: i don't want to be a photographer.

the reason i want to take photographs is not to get a job or hang in a gallery. i simply want to record this world that is unique to me and document the moments in my life - to capture memories. that is my only purpose.

to this end, i will not go out and try to take good pictures, instead i will always have my little camera with me, i will try to keep my eyes always open, and take a picture whenever i feel inspired of whatever is inspiring me.

the only exception i can think of is weddings. i do love all the lovely details of weddings, and even considered becoming a wedding planner at some point in my life. i think i would like documenting other people moments in that regards. maybe i can volunteer to photograph other people's weddings that are like my recent one and wouldn't have a photographer otherwise.

(i found the picture above of me at my old apartment when i was looking through three years of pictures on my computer. it's weird because i've spent hours organizing these pictures, assigning key-words, but i don't remember every even seeing this one.)

pride

here's a painting on the wall of my living room:



i made it two christmases ago. we had a bare apartment and wanted to throw a new years party. i remember sitting in the pizza parlor and looking at the giant horrible and expensive painting on the wall and saying i think we could do better than that ourselves. my boyfriend (now husband, i never get tired of saying that) said you know i've always wanted to make my own art for the walls, and i said me too!

so we left and went straight to the art supply store and bought the cheapest and biggest canvases they had and to the hardware store for a couple of cans of paint. we taped butcher paper to the floor and for a week made our own little (actually rather big) masterpieces. and you know, that was the most fun i've ever had. it might be crappy (i've been told that before, by persons who then got very embarrassed when i said i had made it), but i am so proud. every single time i look at that painting i feel it.

maybe i don't know exactly what i want to do with my life. but i do already know a lot of things i'd love to do in my life. that i love to do.

• taking pictures - god, i really think i'd love to be a wedding photographer.
• editing and design layout - i spent nights and weekends all by myself happily doing this at the school newspaper.
• theater - by no means acting, but remember that rush i felt when called a theater person? i worked every weekend and until 1 am most nights, and that's the last time i really felt like a part of something special.

i'd also love to be able to create something special, and maybe it's ok if it's only special to me.

three steps

i have read several things now about painting, photography, sketching, writing, and on just being creative. i've found a pattern in the advice, a 3-step process but not necessarily in that order:

• learn your tools and how to use them.
• practice, practice, practice. (or just do it.)
• have a subject you are passionate about.

i am guessing these steps apply to doing anything creatively. this has given me the greatest sense of relief. because i don't even have to begin to wonder whether i will be any good at anything, i can start by learning and practicing, by doing.

i finished alex's whole journey, and found it very moving (until the last two years, when she stops seeming happy). i thought over and over, that's exactly the way i feel. i started reading her site a few years ago, but this time what i took from it was different. that she got where she wanted to be by simply believing, and bluffing (having boldness and self-worth instead of being scared, as do what i love says), and by working.

i learned that she didn't start out knowing even where to start, she was scared, she was alone. i read a long time ago that she left a "successful career as a corporate executive", but she was really just an executive secretary. would i have the guts to refer to my old job like that? i need to. what's the worse that could happen, someone say, oh you were a secretary? (actually, i think i also have a fear - a hatred - of anything that can conceivably sound pretentious, so much so that i'd even downgrade my actual title to secretary, but i'll deal with that later.)

i think i have also admitted a lot to myself over the past week. like i'm holding myself back from doing things i need to do to feel self-worthy. i know i have a lot more to think through and realize and learn from, but i think i'm off to a good start. i feel crabby, and tired, and scared, but also a little bit at peace.

i am trying to grasp that i can just be me. that's all. and that nothing will make me me except for me. nothing - money, a degree, more time - nothing but me being me. i think this is why i always felt like a fake, no matter what i was doing. i was always afraid, ashamed, embarrassed just to be me. silently, i've known this (look at my blog title: me without me) but i haven't been ready or able to change it until now.

tired

i have worked long and hard this week. i'm tired of self-reflection. i'm tired of being lonely. i'm tired of eating pancakes because i haven't gone grocery shopping all week. i'm ready for my husband to be home. and i know that, the real work hasn't even begun. at least he will be home tomorrow.

i looked through two years of constant picture taking today to see if there was anything worth showing. anything i could call good. and there wasn't really. but i noticed that the pictures i love, that make me smile, really are of subjects i care about. in other words, my emotions sometimes show in the photograph. now, i really don't know whether an outsider would be able to tell. guess i'll have to show them and ask.

becoming

The questions are constant right now: What will make me into what I want to be? I have a degree in journalism and yet, I would never say I am a journalist. Why not? What would happen? Why do I care so much about being judged or “found out” by people I don’t know or care about? How do I define success?

My feelings towards a lot of these issues were instilled in me over years growing up. I heard constantly, you’re smart, you’re pretty. But it was always in a too bad kind of way. Like you’re smart enough to make something of yourself, too bad we don’t have the money, the connections, the know-how, the whatever, to allow you to be successful. I grew up very conflicted: I can be anything I want, except I can’t.

My parents really didn’t know better, that is what they still believe. But I am learning better. It doesn’t matter what school you went to, who you know, where you came from. Those things can help, dramatically sometimes, but all they do is help. They don’t make or break.

My dad is smart. He has good ideas. He is always building, tinkering, making. At one point he had a successful business but he chose to close instead of expanding, because he was afraid of taking risks. He wished his parents had encouraged him, but they never did. He’s voiced that to me and my sister over the years. However, he is also the first one to say don’t do it when we are contemplating anything at all risky. (And I really do mean anything, even driving to the mall at night.) Regardless of what he said, his own regrets, he taught us that safety and security is number one. Well, I’ve learned that safety and security are just concepts, they aren’t even real.

I listened to these quiet limitations for a long time. The first thing I did as an young adult was moved in with a man and married him. I worked the same job for 10 years (my first one out of high school). I bought a house around the corner from my parents (in a city I hated). I never had credit card debt. I saved every year and went on one vacation. I never did anything I wanted to do without careful deliberation and weighing risks against definite benefits. Any surprise I was scared and miserable and deflated? The risks always outweigh the guaranteed benefits, that is why they’re called risks.

Confession: When I was young, I could see myself in a porno more easily than I could see myself married with children. I’m not saying I wish I would’ve done that, only saying why on earth would pursue a path that I never wanted in the first place. Why didn’t I try to become a porn star?

Two years ago, I went out (without my dad) and found an apartment. I moved from my nice brick three-bedroom house in the safe small town I was born in, to an overpriced crappy one-bedroom apartment in the dangerous big city next door. And I’ve never felt so safe or so free or so happy. I left my perfectly-fine can-count-on husband who never made me feel one bit of passion or life and started dating a man that I was pretty sure I shouldn’t be dating and that I was completely unsure whether would be there the next day, but one that made me feel more passionate and alive than I had ever been. He made me feel poetic. I expected heartbreak, but I decided not to care.

For the past year, I haven’t been a secretary. I’ve been at home, with really no structure at all to my time. I’ve been able to do whatever I wanted to do. And when people ask at dinner or a party what do you do, it causes more stress and embarrassment than ever. Because the answer I feel inside is, Nothing. Failure.

But what I’ve done is this: Reading and writing blogs. Taking photographs. Traveling. Helping my boyfriend with his business and legal issues. Organizing and cleaning the house. Baby-sitting. Above in order of quantity of time spent. So why isn’t my answer: reader, writer, photographer, traveler, or assistant?

My purpose in re-telling these stories is to remember that I took chances, and I became what I wanted in my personal life. I wasn't easy or smart or safe, but it has been amazingly successful. I have never been so happy or felt so right about my love life. That has been my saving grace when I really look at my life and know I haven’t even tried career-wise. Personal life: 100%. Professional life: 0%. Well, that’s 50% average, so I am doing ok. But I’m not doing ok and that has to change. And I have a feeling if I apply what I’ve learned in my personal life to my professional life, it will also be successful – whatever I decide that is.

what i've learned

warning: this may not seem revolutionary to anyone but me.

art doesn't just happen, it has to be inspired. you start with a picture in your head that you want to come out, or a subject that you just love (or feel strongly about), or a statement that you want to make.

i paid my $27.70 (for book late fees!) fine at the library yesterday and got some books and have actually been pouring through them, not just waiting for the information to come to me through osmosis.

i picked up design and composition secrets of professional artists. instead of the rules i thought i would learn (don't divide in halfs), i just flipped through and read about the art i liked. i noticed that none of these artists - real, professional, trained and talented artists - just sit down and make a fabulous artwork. they all have long, detailed processes.

some start with thumbnail drawings of the abstract shapes and add and delete until it's pleasing. one did a photo, then a realistic painting, then the third real painting expressing his feelings. one lady had a little rectangle cut in cardboard that she used as a viewfinder, then sketched pages of different views of her subject before picking one. know what her subject was? three lemons.

i read should i do what i love, which i know sounds like some pathetic self-help book, but it was actually full of practical tips and advice and different ways of looking at things. like you don't want to start over, you want to transition.

i also read about the scanning and digital pictures, and i really learned. with a notebook and pen and everything. also, the history of photography, which is pretty interesting. it seems like cameras came about because of people wanting to be able to make making art easier.

i'm continuing to read alex's chronicles, because it makes me feel like i am normal. maybe everyone is afraid of their insides at first. maybe all of us have doubt. also reminds me that simply enough: if i don't do it, i won't do it.

so, i feel like i'm onto the right path here. i need help. i need to learn. i need to undo and change. if these great artists have to work so hard to get a painting right, i certainly shouldn't expect to do it effortlessly.