Okay, first and foremost, this isn't really an "art gallery" per say, but more of a... nut house. Not that the people going there are nuts. No sir. I'm not saying that. People going there are going to get help. That's why I'm going there, and I'm not nuts. I'm totally sane. Actually, my therapist there seems to think I'm good to go off on my own, but I'm still not sure what to do with myself now that I'm, for all intents and purposes, "better," "stable," "cured," or "no longer going around kicking puppies to make myself feel better about my problems." (At least I'm not a tiny dog that just got kicked for no good reason. I mean, that would suck. I'm a pretty lucky guy.)
(I must remember to put an easy-to-reference disclaimer somewhere that will tell people stumbling upon this blog that I am not serious about the puppy kicking or calling children "meat bags." I'm aware that sarcasm doesn't travel well over the internet. Although, adding a disclaimer might kill any and all evil overlord credibility I've acquired over the however-long-I've-been-trying-to-be-an-overlord period. Hurm...)
The gallery is for some big-wig dinner, meeting, thing... I don't know. I lost the flier. It's somethin' about people comin' in for some reason, and the place needed to prove that they were doing something worthwhile by having their patients produce art about how awesome they are. The algebraic equation describing why this is a big deal for me goes a little somethin' like this:
Recognition for Talent + Self-Indulgent Artist's Statement Where I Explain Why I'm Awesome + Small Commission = A Very Happy Narcissistic Overlord Slowly Making His Way in the World + A little Bank for Little to no Effort
You can try to simplify it if you're a nerd (I tried, but I don't think this has anything to do with math so I failed.) What it really amounts to is awesomeness, and that's pretty much what I'm tryin' to go for here. What's even better: since I framed the piece and the required artist statement together they decided it qualified for a bigger check. I just gave them what they asked for and they decided to pay me twice what I deserve. On top of that they read a copy of that children's book I mentioned back in episode whatever and decided to add that to their little show and are willing to pay me for that too. I'm getting paid to do crap I normally do just for the heck of it! This is the way it should be. I should be awesome, and people should reward me for that awesomeness! I'd probably have to do a little more than make little black and white doodles, but... you know... I'm still cool. (*whimper*)
I mean, it'd be great if I could actually support myself just by being me. That's kinda the overall goal here. It'll take a lot more than a gallery show at a mental health center to help me reach that goal, but it's a start. The real goal is to find a way to pool my greatness with others so that it congeals together in a big pool of extra-greatness. In other words: combine work and social life. Ah, which reminds me that I have a screenplay writing program thing now. One of my evil plots for over the summer is to produce a short film that will hopefully give other awesome people a reason to play with me assuming they have nothing better to do. I'm too much of a coward to just say, "Hey, hang out with me!" but if I have something I want to do that actually requires other people to help me out with then I'll have more incentive to get over my neurosis. (It's funny how my mind works. Anything worth doing is worth complicating beyond reason.)
The radio station thing still hasn't contacted me. It's been suggested that I just waltz on in and introduce myself. That sounds pretty good since they haven't been returning my emails. What's the worst that could happen? I still think that getting this radio gig, be it DJ, sound engineer, gorilla reporter, or gopher, would be the best thing that has the highest potential of actually happening.
What else we got? Oh, hey, check this out. This is the thing I submitted.
Artist's Statement: "In overcoming my depression and anxiety, change is one of the most difficult obstacles I face. As I recover it becomes challenging to deal with my new capabilities. There are times I grow anxious simply because the familiar feeling of anxiety that has been with me for years is no longer present. When I walk into a noisy crowded room I am no longer overcome with fear. My body doesn’t tense up, my breath doesn’t hasten, my mind doesn’t reel, and I don’t know how to deal with being okay. I do not yet understand how to be normal.Since coming off of my medication and learning how to self-regulate my emotions I have drive, ambition, desire, and hope; all things I’ve never had before. It’s overwhelming. I’m compelled to change, and often I feel as if changes aren’t happening fast enough. I know I’m capable of so much more. Suddenly there’s a need to make up for lost time. I need to make friends, get a job, get a car, move into a place of my own, push myself to my limits. I want to escape from the anxiety and depression that has become so normal to me. I’m afraid if I don’t keep pushing myself, or if I stop to take a break, everything will come back. It’s a nightmare."
Blah blah blah angst.
But angst I'm getting paid for is way better than the regular kind. Everything will be okay, but I gotta go before my grammar totally falls apart on me. Just havin' a few issues here an' there with sentence structure. No big deal. It adds character.
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