One thing that’s been bugging me a lot lately is what’s the point of doing anything at all. For example, I’ve always liked to doodle/create, but I know there are probably billions of people out there who are magnitudes better than I. What’s the point is what I just can’t figure out. And yet I continue, but why, what drive to I have when I know I’ll never be good. I can’t even draw a straight line as well as my father. Is that because he was a draftsman? I don’t believe so, I’ve seen his high school works and the technics behind even some of the simplest things beat anything I’ve ever done. If I had just an ounce of that talent. Playing video games falls somewhat in this boat too. They are in no way productive. I gain nothing by playing them so what is the point. At least when I do something artistic I have something pretty in the end to look at. I don’t game nearly as much as I used to, even Oblivion, I am nowhere near as into as you. I collect, I have many many cartridges, discs, roms, etc that I don’t play. Whats the point of that? Some kind of just collection urge? I collect images, I have a folder full of just stupid images like a japanse guy with a frog on his head, do I use them for anything? You’re well aware how many 8 balls I have, how many lava lamps I have. I have seven graphing calculators Ti-82, Ti-83, Ti-83 Silver, Ti-85, Ti-89, Ti-92, and a Color Casio one. Three of them are within reach. What do I need these for? You know I have a huge movie collection; I have something like 300 movies, what percent have I actually watched? It’s pretty small. There is some kind of hording instinct in me.
On Of fear and the golden rule, for me it wasn’t a fear of pushing myself upon people
perse. I guess I just always valid humbleness. I always liked just solid color shirts myself.
During high school my mom would go to the store and come back with shirts with skulls and shit on
them (I’ve no idea why she thought I liked that), but now I wear just solid colors. Yesterday
I was at target wearing red shirt, khakis, and got asked “do you work here?” twice.
Today, blue shirt, khackies. My fear of color is gone, I don’t know what happened. Its
reflected in my art, in what I wear. Etc. There’s still no excuse for the color yellow
It’s more of a tendency to think everything I ever do is a mistake, especially in a social context, rather than to think I’m forcing myself upon people, though I have to say I agree completely on the point that the people who isolate themselves, myself included want things thrust upon them. As you know, I am completely indecisive. This too roots from my complete fear of mistakes. I don’t make the mistake, its not my fault. And yet theres part of me that wants to take charge, like in a group, people argue about who does what, I just want to yell ‘shut up, I’ll do it all myself’ I dislike working in groups because it never fails that someone isn’t going to pull their weight, its just the entire basis of groups.
The concept of work is something that drives me insane. What is life really other than a period of time we get to exist, and we trade portions of it to someone else, for things to keep us existing.
Now for just a random whine. Deviant art’s gone completely to hell, no? There’s an option now to disallow critique. What’s the point of posting your art on the web if you’re not trying to improve, if all you want is praise because you believe yourself perfect. I take offense to the pure idea of this.
In response to of school and educators, if not teachers, perhaps instructors.
As for questions of you, I have no idea. This is another one of my weaknesses. An x-girlfriend who shall remain nameless during the processes of dumping me informed me that I knew nothing about her, which was true, she asked me what her favorite color was, I had no idea but I wondered at the time why that was even relevant.
What do I want of this open letter writing experience? More than anything just a place to vent I suppose. I don’t get to talk to people much. I don’t get to converse. I go to school and the only people I really have any kind of conversations with are the instructors and that’s only ocasionaly. Then I come home where my mothers idea of a conversation is her whining on and on, everything having to do with the context of her. Having a conversation with my dad is little better because hes stubborn as a mule, if he has an opinion on something he sticks to it, you argue otherwise and he basicly just says no, this is how it is, which can be very frustrating. Then I get on AIM to have a conversation, and It ends up usually as an argument with Borne or just a lame ‘Sup? Not Much’ conversation, or lack thereof as it were.
Well this was completely randomly tossed together at 4am this morning. I’m not sure who knows this, I know Borne does, but I have a lazy eye and when I get tired it becomes increasingly hard to control. My eyes right now are looking in two completely different directions and neither in focus. On the love at the end of my previous letter, it was more along the lines of uncertainty as to the spelling of something more extravagant such as ‘Sincerely’ but it was not overly uncomfortable to use.