After recovering (somewhat) from this past cold/sinus infection/whathaveyou, going back to work seems more like a nightmare than I remembered it. I don't really feel the angst of turning 24 coming up soon, really, because when I look back on it, I didn't really have any goals set for the year or by the year. When I was younger, I just wanted to work for Disney.
Now as I'm older (and growing more reclusive by the year), I realize, I like drawing, but I don't like drawing in that way. I have my own doubts about my talent, but...I guess, sitting around, really thinking about things, it all becomes clear. Don't get me wrong; I still would love to see my work animated, just not by me. I used to think I was "envious" or "jealous" of other artists that had "made" it before me, but "age" has kind of revealed to me what it was: respect.
It's really kind of sad that my self-esteem (oh, you black footed culprit!) clouded up what I thought of as competition and the like when it was really just respect. Like, take for instance "The Thing." I love the shit out of that movie. The makeup effects in are amazing. I sit and watch that movie and I'm just in awe of how awesome everything is in it. But I never once felt envious of the people working on the film, just this sort of, "Wow, I wish I could have that much fun with a team" (because this K! is at heart an extreme creature of eternal solitude). I suppose I got envious of other artists simply because I felt that they had succeeded in a path that I could not, but on the same hand, I didn't feel that way about academics that I looked up to. One has more fame and glory, and the other is condemned to a much smaller circle of people. I know that in walking the path of a brain I shut my accessibility off. In a sense, that's fine. I never thought of myself as all that accessible or approachable anyway. Not that I think academia has to be that way. It's just a matter of taking the time, closing my eyes, and tasting my path to show it to others.
Envy's also nice because it seems like the artists I was glowering over had it so much easier. They could just do what they wanted to do. There was no huge ethical debate over one thing or the other - I was constantly pulled between artist, writer, academic, model. I've nipped the last one off (semi-permanently, perhaps?), and realized that what motivates me (when I'm not rendered too apathetic from work or the people around me) is just the pursuit of knowledge, but we live in a world where someone who loves to learn is a freak. This, despite warm words from other people, is something I don't think a lot of people can really relate to. Even now, I think it's strange to look at what I write side by side with some of my modeling photos, and if it's as confusing to me, I can only imagine what an outsider perspective must look like. There's no geling of these two personas, but yet they're both me. I suppose as you get older, you either cultivate who you want to be or let everything go to seed.
Goddamn. What I want to do is going to be hard. Not that it hasn't been done before, but it was always the result of a team effort, rather than just one person. Here I am in Austin, wondering why the hell I moved here to work another dead end job with the worst customers I've ever encountered (Christ did I do this for a guy), and running myself ragged just trying to run away from what it was I needed to do and take responsibility for. Friday night, when it all broke down and I just cried in bed, the thing I had been trying to avoid and in a strange way ignored came out.
"I think a lot of this has to do with my father passing."
It's true, I've felt guilty because it feels like I don't dwell on it long enough. But my life is much emptier. Chris is a wonderful guy, but he's not enough. I miss my father so very very much and I miss his guidance. Truth be told, I'm sure if he was alive I wouldn't listen to him anymore than I did when he tried to reassure me, but he was one of the few people in my life that was just behind me indefinitely, and now in this time of such turmoil and upheaval and general malaise of life, I miss him. I want him to tell me it's going to be okay and that I will get out of this because I've come from much worse places and made it before, but now, god, now I'm not so sure anymore. The simpler I make my dreams, the harder they seem to be to achieve. I don't even want to be pretty anymore, I just want to make a difference. I'm learning the hard way that I can't change the world overnight but I want the chance to at least get the motion rolling again.
But, most of all, I want to hear him call me and say, "Happy Birthday, Kim, I love you, and you can do it."
What "it" is, I don't know, but I just wanted to hear it again from him, one more time. It's hard now, I know, and he used to say the only way you can go from down is up, but I seem to be so very far down and up seems so very far away, and I'm missing the little part of me that used to say, "Yeah, what of it?" and enabled me to keep going. Now I just am, just surviving, just waiting for something that I used to be able to go out there and get, or at least delude myself into thinking that I could.
Most of all for my 24th birthday, I just want to be happy.