post opening blues.

 christ. i am so assailed by self deprecation and anxiety it's a wonder i actually manage to get out of bed some mornings.
my art show went well, flawlessly even, and yet still i feel like a freakjob imposing my defective tastes on an unsympathetic populace that just indulges me with the occasional nod and grin. How, with such Fantastic artwork such as mine :) , do i sustain this attitude? sigh. it's a temporal thing, i think. no sooner to i complete anything when some new project's imperfections begin weighing heavily over my head and with the profound doubts as to whether any of it is worth a sodding thing, i begin to feel like a piece of poo.

welcome to productive thinking 101.

"maybe that's what my illness had been about; not knowing where i was going, or what to want when i got there. or maybe, as i suspected at the time and still do, it was about nothing i could possibly understand except the work of being alive and not being very good at it"
-michael redhill.

someone asked this afternoon if it seemed plausible that people who look alike (stylistically) seek each other out. as i sat at the pub table with 15 people in jeans and fleeceys and bob cuts and wholesomeness, i had to disagree.
i bastioned my opinion with the comment that, until about 1 year ago, i only knew one other of my clan of friends/acquaintances with dreads (my locks being presently on the cusp of a 6 year anniversary).
one of my classmates stared at me. "what on earth possessed you to dread your hair then, if you don't know anyone else with them?"

and you know, it was a very good question.