Inktober Highlights

I doubt if those of you who are interested in my artistic escapades have missed these, since I've been whoring my stuff all over the internet--supposedly that's supposed to make a difference and make anyone at all care about my art or my goals--but I figured in the name of consistency and stalling on my already behind NaNoWriMo novel, I'd post them here too.

Those mostly don't suck. I missed three days total during the month, which I suppose isn't bad. I do feel like I got a little better at using pen, which is something I've been wanting to improve basically forever, so I guess that was good. 

I find a like doing these month long challenges. I did a 30 day yoga series just before/during this, and I've theoretically started NaNoWriMo again. We'll see if that one happens. I've been kind of done with life, the universe, and everything lately, so finding anything in myself that genuinely desires to create or express myself has been a struggle. Right now I'm kind of waiting to see if a hugely personal, emotional outburst will find its way out of me, but so far I've remembered that I don't actually want to do that.

Oh, and here's my Halloween costume. I was busy the whole day, which is why I didn't end up drawing.

I tied in the costume contest at my sister's bar, so that was kind of cool. 

Back to my hole I go.

Here's a video. Please watch.

"If not me, who? If not now, when?" I know it's almost fifteen minutes, but everyone should watch this.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-iFl4qhBsE

Gender equality is an ongoing fight, you guys, and we need all of the feminists in the world, men, women, and children, to step up and be open and critical. We need to have those conversations and educate ourselves and each other and start talking about and solving those problems that we, as a society, are still fighting. 

Be proud to call yourself a feminist. It does not make you a man-hater, or a dyke, or brimming with penis envy. It isn't about "women's issues." It means you are a compassionate, aware human being that cares about and is willing to fight for the rights of your fellow humans.

Some Brain Spew on Weight Loss

Urg, internet. I'm all annoyed now, and it's not even about the subject of today's rant. It's making me want to start a tangent rant about stupid people and pet ownership. And empty threats and complaints without the intent of correction. But, I should probably leave all that to the side since it's all just happening right now in my real life. This is the price of suddenly being surrounded by young adults who think they know what they're doing.

Anyway, I've been weirdly focused on food lately, and at work today I heard a radio commercial that just filled me with horror and irritation, and then I decided to write a blog post about it.

There I was, filling up egg pans before the morning rush, half listening to the classic rock station, and then this commercial came on for a weight loss center. They advertised for both "natural and chemical" weight loss methods, as well as single day visits and lifestyle/nutrition counselors to help you half-ass your way into being skinny.

At first glance, there wasn't really anything wrong with the ad, but it still infuriated me, because I hate--hate with a fiery, righteous passion-- this idea of losing weight for the sake of being skinnier. There's this disgusting focus on that, and it's everywhere. If a celebrity isn't skeletal or impossibly toned, people will comment on their figure, and it's this idiotic expectation that everyone in the entire world should look that way. There's no regard for health, body type, psychology, motivation, method, or diversity. It's all about results. Really, a singular, poisonous result.

Here's the ugly truth, boys and girls: people have different body types. They're shaped differently. Not everyone can be slim, shapely, and muscular. In fact, almost no one is all three of those because of their intrinsic contradictions in a body, and the way that we are about being thin and about eating, no one is really likely to be.

The thing is, that's not an ugly truth. Those aren't ugly bodies. Healthy bodies are not ugly. I say that as an artist with an ongoing love affair with the human shape. I love drawing the figure, but I don't love only drawing hourglass shaped women (as much as I love my sexy pin-up girls), and I don't only love drawing Superman. When I took figure drawing, my favorite models were the ones that were interesting to look at and fun to talk to, and that usually means not having a conventionally beautiful or symmetrical face.

But that's not exactly where I originally meant to go. This whole obsession with an end without regard to anything else, like whether it's healthy, or longterm, or even beneficial is one of the things that's been on my mind a lot. It shows up in Western culture a lot, but especially education, medicine, and this.

I watched Forks Over Knives the other day, along with a whole mess of Ted Talks about food and health and whatnot, and it really made me start thinking about the way that we relate to our food,
("How can anyone have a relationship to food?" Shrinking Women)
and more and more I notice how profoundly sickening it is the majority of the time. People eat the worst crap all of the time, and then complain about health problems caused directly by their laziness and gluttony.

How can you be shocked that you're overweight or diabetic when you eat garbage all the time?

Most of the stuff I was watching contended that the majority of health problems we have in Western culture are totally preventable and even the existing, chronic ailments can be mitigated by controlling what we put in our body.

But doing that requires putting in effort. We don't want to be healthier or feel better. We want to wear a bikini and eat a gallon of icecream. Why do things that benefit your body and mental health when you can just throw money and pills at it, or become a slave to self-denial?

I think this will need to explode into a few different posts. There's too much that I'm trying to say right now, and it's getting very muddled and confusing, so I'll stop now and try to sort my thoughts a little. I think it can break down into two or three separate topics. They're just all very tangled together.

It's official

I made a Tumblr account, so now, if you so desire, you can see more art stuff from me, and follow the updates there.

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/klunkyboots

Honestly, this is mostly because I'm kind of floundering. I've spent the last six months trying to get a tattoo apprenticeship, and the last year and a half trying to do something real with my art. Tumblr is a good way to get my art further "out there" and maybe create an actual audience/market for my stuff, from what I've learned in spite of trying to pretend it doesn't exist due to my hatred and disdain for most of the people I know that use it.

Art is really the only thing I actually want to do. I've been doing it for as long as I can remember, and since I was like nine or ten years old, I've been actively working to improve and expand what I can do, and because of that, my art is pretty good. Not great, but pleasing to look at and still improving. And spending so long with no practical results is starting to wear on me.

It's hard to want to make art when everything in me feels so gross ninety percent of the time. Art can save you sometimes, from whatever is going on, but sometimes it's too far away to reach.

So once I stop mechanically doing hand studies and anatomy practice that no one is ever going to see, I'll try and start posting real work again. Maybe finish the four or five pieces I started ages ago. In the mean time, I'll keep dragging my portfolio around the city and smiling hopelessly while every artist I talk to says my work is good and full of potential, but they still don't want me.


Sorry. That got way too personal. I hate writing about garbage like that here. But it's written so, why not hit post and get on with my day?

The Contradiction Between Beauty and Ink

Hello, faithful audience. Do you feel smothered yet, or is this a nice break from my months of silence?

I actually haven't decided if I'll post all of these existing blogs I've written over the past few weeks all at once, or if I ought to space it out over a week or two. There's a very real danger of some of them never seeing the light of day (or at least the cold, artificial light of your computer screens) if I don't post them all once I have the internet at my place. It ought to be soon, because we twenty-somethings can't survive too long without Netflix.

On a side note, I'm officially blaming Facebook for my frequent silences on my blog. I always check it early in my cycle of websites, and after spending fifteen minutes on Facebook, I usually just want to get off the computer. That, and my social life. Since I've moved, I spend much more time alone, and therefore not discussing these things with actual people.

So, in theory, if I became a hermit, I would probably start posting like twice a week. So if anyone rabidly wants my thoughts published here, feel free to maroon me somewhere awesome. I only speak English fluently with some French and Spanish, so there's a whole mess of countries to choose from.

Anyway! I could write a whole other post about the internet and the weird combinations of isolation and community and artistic productivity, but now I'm going to talk about what I actually started with before I got distracted by kittens and musing about the internet.

There I was at work on sunday morning, taking orders and running the register, when this old dude and I start talking about my tattoo, and the conversation ended with, “You're too pretty to do any more of that.”

And then I laughed, because that's the career I'm planning on, and it's a three-quarter sleeve we're talking about. I've never seen anyone one get a sleeve and stop there. Aside from the three other tattoos I already have, I've got a few more planned.

But what I'm not clear on is the thinking behind what he said. Does having tattoos make me less pretty? No. I look exactly the same. My tattoo artist has told me several times I have wonderful skin; it's pale and smooth and it holds color really well, so it's suited beautifully for tattoos.

Also, why would tattoos make me look bad when having brightly colored hair isn't a problem? If the argument there was for the natural body being the ideal, why, sir, are you running around clean-shaven with glasses and a crew-cut?

I've never understood why it's okay to artificially color your hair blonde or black or red, but not to have pink or green or blue hair. None of those are your "natural hair" color, and if it exists on the color spectrum, it's technically a “natural” color. Blue appears in nature, as do the materials used to make things change color.

How is your burgundy hair with platinum blonde highlights any more professional than my pink and black hair?

I've tangented. Sorry.

My point here is that I don't get why people have a problem with some body modifications. If they're sanitary and not dangerous, who cares what people look like? Nature creates some impressive freaks, so why do we have issues with people altering themselves to suit their own preferences. And I say this as someone who opposes screwing with your natural body in most ways.

But I want to decorate my body the same way that I decorate my space. It's very similar for me to put art on my body and to put art on my walls.

I'm not talking about sex-changes, or cosmetic surgery, or whatever right now. That's probably a different post. During which I'll have to talk about the tiger guy, or the puzzle piece dude, or the tattooed, skin-condition girl, and horns and such.

I just don't get why people seem to be offended by tattoos. Over half the population over eighteen years old has at least one. And lots of people have tons. They're common and loads of perfectly respectable people of all ages have them.

Also, why do they feel like they have the right to tell me what I should and shouldn't do with my body? Do these people also go up to petite girls and say, “you're too pretty to have any babies. What do you think those hips are going to look like when you get old?” Or fat people?

I suspect this ties into all of the madness with everyone making women feel like they aren't allowed to have autonomous bodies. Maybe that's my feminism talking, but I seriously doubt that men ever hear that bollocks.

Seriously. Can you imagine seeing anyone go up to a twenty-something guy and saying, “you're too handsome for tattoos. What will you look like when you get old?”

My answer for that was, “I'll look like this, but older.”

The Problem with Relativists

Hello, future audience. This whole not having internet thing has been interesting. Kind of a mixed-blessing type deal, but I'm kind of over it now. I do feel kind of cool right now thinking about the fact that the things I'm writing right this second are going to be read by future Taryn and a handful of other future people. It makes me think of Stephen King talking about how writing is basically telepathy across time in On Writing. (Which is a fantastic read. I highly recommend it.)

Anyway! The topic at hand, in case you weren't aware is Relativism and why I hate it. More specifically, it's relativists and why I hate talking to them. About relativism, anyway.

A couple of weeks ago, I had a really interesting conversation with a few people at a friend's house, because I hang out with the kind of people where we were all sitting at my friend's kitchen table (Michael, if you ever read this, I mean you), all having just made shots and drinks and whatnot, and his roommate sat down and started a discussion about the difference between ethics and morality. We spent a decent while on that, defining each and discussing our individual conceptions of both, but then we necessarily turned to the idea of objective/subjective morality, which is what we spent the majority of the night talking about.

I gave our lone relativist kudos for facing both me and Michael undaunted, since we both have some similar views on the cosmos and its objectivity, and I get very loud and animated when I argue.

Anyway, the whole thing ended with me demanding to know why he was even arguing with me if all of our perceptions were equally valid.

This is my issue with relativism, boys and girls: If everyone is right, then you can not, by the very nature of your argument, argue with me about anything. In a subjective universe, my perception dictates my entire reality and it is all just as true as yours is.

If you espouse that, then you can't even try to defend that, because every argument will go, “You're wrong because blah blah blah.”

“That's your reality, and that's what's true for you.”

No defense. Not even disagreement. Because you can't disagree with anyone about anything because it all becomes a matter of individual opinion.

For some things that's a totally sensible way of doing things. Like, when I say that icecream is probably the best thing in the world, and you say you're lactose intolerant, that's totally valid. I'll laugh at you and eat all of the icecream, but that is actually a thing that does depend on the individual, because it's a matter of preference that doesn't depend on an objective standard.

Let me be clear here. I believe in an objective reality that we necessarily experience subjectively by virtue of having individual perspectives. Morality and ethics are slippery things, but mostly they depend on having or not having an objective standard to refer to. I also don't take issue with people disagreeing with me. I had no problem with this guy being a relativist, apart from the fact that I think relativism is stupid and obviously flawed beyond use. Presumably he had reasons for arriving at the conclusions he did, just like me and everyone else.

My problem was that debating with a relativist is like having a cage match with a pacifist. It's a contradiction to the entire philosophy and a waste of everyone's time.

That said, I think humans might benefit from lending more validity to subjective experience. We seem to think that everyone who perceives differently from us is always wrong or threatening or inhuman. Empathy goes a long way in that respect.

I'd Rather Be Blogging

*This, my dear, deprived audience, was written not long after I moved, so like around three weeks ago. It's been sitting on my desktop with a few other files waiting for your voracious eyes.*

Hello, theoretical readers.

As I was on my way home today, beginning to roughly compose this post, I was originally planning on starting with an explanation of my sleep and internet deprivation, but then I went on a mental tangent, and now I feel the need for a sentimental side note.

I don't think you guys have any idea how much it actually means to me that I'm actually growing a real audience. Not so much on my blog, but as an artist aspiring to professional art, it makes me ecstatic to know that people not only like my work but actually want to see more of it. Every single Favorite, upvote, share, bookmark, like, and comment is a victory for the part of me that keeps insisting that maybe I could actually do this. So thanks for that, guys. You don't hear about me celebrating the number of followers I have (unless you've heard about my newly founded religion, that is), or being excited about my pageviews, but I totally do, so thanks for that, those of you who I know and those I don't. Almost more you guys, because you have no obligation to be supportive and you don't already love me as the shiny human thing I am.

Anyway, now that rubbish is out of the way and can't be unsaid (I say while typing in an unsaved document without internet), on to the actual ranting you guys really come here to read!

As previously mentioned, I was driving home from work today, and for at least half the drive, I was behind this guy with a bumper sticker that said, “I'd rather be riding my Harley Davidson” with the logo and all that nonsense.

Every single time I see those horrible bumper stickers—“I'd rather be running, biking, swimming, kayaking, fishing, etc” (Can we tell I live near the mountains?)— I mentally scream, “No you wouldn't, dickhole! If you would actually rather be biking, you wouldn't be driving that douchey SUV!” Because they could be biking. That is a perfectly feasible way to travel in the city for like half the year. Even for things like rock-climbing, I still say “You could be.” No, you can't always be a responsible human being and only do the things you want to do all the time, but you also have the option to be be irresponsible and awesome.

Like many things, this annoyance translated to a larger issue in my head; very frequently, I hear people say “Oh, I wish I could do ____,” and my usual response is “So do it,” even to things like “I wish I could be a professional silk dancer in the circus,” or “I wish I lived in a house-boat,” or “I wish I could build a hover car.” Because usually what prevents people from doing those things, even the awesome ones like putting a ball pit trampoline room in their basements, is something as stupidly simple as that they just aren't willing to pursue it.

It's not a hugely complicated idea to pursue doing what you want to do. Yes, in practice, maybe it's a little (or a lot) more difficult to make a living as a professional Netflix Browser, but a lot of how possible that actually is depends on ow much work you're willing to put into it and how dedicated you are to making it happen. And I say that as someone who hopes to make my living by playing with paint and pens and tattoo equipment and computers.

It's like reading. I can't describe to you how cool it sounds to get paid for reading. In one of my recently favorite moves About Time, the protagonist's future wife tells him that she's a reader for a publishing house, and he says something like, “No. That's like saying, 'what do you do?' 'Oh, I'm a breather. I breathe for a living,'” and that's kind of how I feel about that idea. BUT I haven't gone around to publishers asking about becoming a reader or an editor, and do you know why? Apart from all of the inevitable disappointments and mountains of crap you'd have to read through, it's mostly because I haven't decided to do that and then taken steps to make that a reality.

Yes, biking to your job twelve miles away from where you live is going to be tiring and time-consuming and sweaty, but you could do it if you were willing to put in the work. And that's my problem, dear children. THEY DON'T ACTUALLY WANT TO.

Don't say you'd rather be doing something you aren't even trying to do. Either put your money and time and effort where your mouth is, or stop bitching that you want something else.

This is something I've definitely been learning for myself lately, and it's both awesome and frustrating. The days that I don't want to drive all the way down to the tattoo shop to sit and watch and talk and ask questions, or when the juices aren't flowing and I don't want to draw something crappy and uninspired, are the days that I put on my grownup voice that I use to ask small children if they want to lose the toy they're playing with, or miss snack, or sit in time-out, and go, “Rachel, how much do you actually want to make this happen?”

As a very eloquent, Floridian gentleman once said, “Nut up, or shut up.”