…if you are having a nervous breakdown? When you don’t ask anymore? So I am safe? Well, maybe not out of the woods yet, but I have this odd little plan that just popped into my head at 12:30AM, on a now, Saturday morning that I thought I would share with the world wide web.
See in high school, I was a hermit. A nerdy little awkward honor roll good little girl hermit. Sure I had an equally nerdy awkward boyfriend of 4 years (starting in 8th grade, sorry Mom, I lied we WERE dating, but she found that out the yucky way when I was in surgery at 15 and found some (very) dirty poems he had written me in my purse I left with her, meaning, 14yrs old = DUMBASS) but then he ended up banging someone on his trip to Germany in my Junior year, but that is ok because I was being vigorously pursued by the (hotter than hot) boy named Scott, eventually ended up falling HOPELESSLY “in love with” (I really did, sadly) that we all know later broke my heart into ten thousand pieces so at the time, didn’t really care who Eric banged in Germany to be quite truthful….oh but you should have been there for that particular conversation (after he casually mentioned it to me as we were looking at his trip pix’s)….
“Hey, who is this ?”
“That’s Megan. We sort of had sex while I was over there.”
(crickets)
“Uh-huh-wait……..um, pardon, you did what?”
(pointing to the picture I was holding of some chick with piercings and a tattoo that obviously looked a little more “worldly” than I was)
“Yeah, I banged her, Carol (same breath) but I brought you home some soap that they use there which is called Carol Soap. Here…..”
(I even think I said thank you as he plopped it in my hand)
I wish you all had been there really. It was quite entertaining when I think of it now. Too bad there isn’t video. I would like to see it, actually.
Ah but these are (true) stories for other times.
ANYWAY
Before I discovered “boys” (and I will use the term “discovered” in loose terms) I was a hermit nerdy girl with depression/anxiety attacks that spent A LOT of time alone in my room after I got home from school, listening to my music in headphoneland (complete solace and bliss mind you) singing and acting out all songs that graced my ears while making my animated films (yes, Morgyn, they are on VHS, but I will have to look for them, I know you asked) I made a film every year starting in 6th grade until 12th grade on my little super 8 camera and hand painted cels. THOUSANDS upon THOUSANDS upon THOUSANDS of drawings and plastic cels that were all painted on. I spent a year on each little film. And they all had soundtracks coordinated to them. It was quite the production.
All I know is that ANYTHING was possible in that room of mine. It was a magical place. I was gonna make it big, I was sure of it.
Although please note that the last film I made Junior/Senior year, I was distracted by my above romance drama and didn’t make the film I always envisioned which has always bugged me. Lost time I will never be able to get back and really, knowing what I know now, I SHOULD have stayed in my room making my stuff and listening to bad 80’s music.
Which by the way is the reason for this post.
So my plan is this. Since I was REALLY artistically productive during that time (roughly 1983-1989; quite the manic time) I have started importing all my shitty 80’s music and listening to it. And you know what? It ACTUALLY is making this process tonight, a LOT easier! I am chugging along here without the negative bastards pounding at the door of my mind. Wait. Gotta check again. Nope! They aren’t there! Did I find their secret out? That they HATE 80’s music? Is that all it took? A swift kick of Opposites Attract and Cold Hearted Snake to keep them at bay? We’ll see. This is just an experiment and may be short lived, and I may be blogging soon from the quiet hospital.
What are the tasty skeleton treats I have unlocked from my closet? I have no shame, here they are…
Early Madonna mainly La Isla Bonita (I had the 45, yes, the vinyl 45!) Cherish, Material Girl (I loved her vintage dress and the dance prodcution, I confess) and Into The Groove OH ANDLET’S NOTFORGET the ultimate teenage romance song, True Blue. Yep, this was me in my room. I was quite the star of my own imagination. And frankly, I rocked.
Roxette, yes, that’s right, fricking Roxette. Got a problem with that? Too bad. Dressed for Success is taking me back to my happy place and there is nothing you can do about it.
Neneh Cherry! Buffalo Stance. I know this by heart. Even still which may in fact = sad.
Oh, and Debarge’s Who’s Johnny. Seriously. How can you NOT like this song? You have no soul if you do. I said the song, not the video mind you. The video sucks large amounts of poop.
The Thriller album should be coming up next because I was thrown into that by no fault of my own. I was just the right age at the right time. And he was dreamy. And had a llama. Where was this video for me to see in the 80’s??? I still want a llama. Keep the creepy monkey though. I don’t really like monkeys. (sorry Mo)
Oh if only we could have the righteous vintage MJ back with his voice and wicked dance moves.
So, remember that movie, In the Realms of the Unreal Morgyn told you to watch a few years ago (which you did and loved it) about the recluse janitor in Chicago, Henry Darger, who wrote and illustrated well, here, just read this…
Henry Joseph Darger was a reclusive American writer and artist who worked as a janitor in Chicago, Illinois. He has become famous for his posthumously discovered 15,145-page, single-spaced fantasy manuscript called The Story of the Vivian Girls, in What is known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinnian War Storm, Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion, along with several hundred drawings and watercolor paintings illustrating the story. Darger’s work has become one of the most celebrated examples of outsider art.
This guy diligently spent pretty much his whole life writing his books along with hundreds of watercolor paintings because obviously: he had to.
In 1968, Darger became interested in tracing some of his frustrations back to his childhood. It was in this year that he wrote The History of My Life, a book that spends 206 pages detailing his early life before veering off into 4,672 pages of fiction about a huge twister called “Sweetie Pie,” probably based on memories of the tornado he had witnessed in 1908. He also kept a diary to chronicle the weather and his daily activities.
4,672 pages about a tornado!
He was just an ordinary guy who, against lots of odds, made his art and wrote his stories, with from what I remember, no formal training whatsoever.
And let’s please re-read the awesome blog entry your friend Tiffany sent your way the other day from finslippy.com.
And the little movie that was attached to the blog entry that lots of folks should watch. It really is enlightening how he analyzes his own work at the end of the clip. And his honesty in the whole thing is really very reassuring in (mind you) a bummer sort of way, but hey, that’s truth if you dare to accept it.
Now.
So.
Really, there is no reason for you to stop making your items. Or feel as if you should stop working on them. In fact, it is clear you need to make MORE. Not less. In mass quantities. And at alarming rates.
The clan upstairs would have you believe otherwise, but we all know they are impostors that are jealous. Admittedly they showed up unannounced, uninvited today, and didn’t even bring snacks or drinks with them, all the while bossing you around and telling you, you are no good. They have shitty taste in art, music, food and drink (let me remind you again, none of which they brought with them) – so kick them out.
This will have to be a CD I purchase in the very near future. Her work is raw, shocking, depressing, with odd bits of hope and beauty softly scattered throughout in the strangest places.
I find not only her work, but her life terribly intriguing and inspiring as well, despite losing her battle raging against the voices inside her head and killed herself at the age of 45.
A friend of mine pointed me in her direction a good decade ago when he read some of the lyrics I was writing in tandem with the paintings I was doing and relating some of the experiences (especially the self doubting ones, the manic ones, and afterwards, the depressing downward spiral ones) I was going through. An obstacle I now recognize and work with. I thank him as it could not have come at a better time for me and gave me a shot in the arm. And most recently I am revisiting her legend and desire to create a boatload of work, despite her obvious mental challenges. She did it anyway.
Basically, she was an ordinary housewife who was encouraged to write poetry to help her manic depression. She was so nervous to do so, that she asked a friend to accompany her to her first workshop.
And then look what happened.
Seems like a good prescription. I think I will continue trying it.
