Sneak Peek

Spiritual Eruption and Visual Stimulus

This is sort of where I've been lately. A compilation of ideas that stem from me no longer being interested in the rules and rituals of this world. Politics, Medicine, Education, Consumerism, etc... these are all things taking up space in my head. It's no longer acceptable to be described in multiple characteristics, you have to be a thing and hold a title. I'm not longer interested in this. I don't want to be a thing, I want to be a human being. I'd like to function under my God-given motives, emotions, and needs. Instead, I'm shoving down anti-depressants so I can cope with this set of rules so as to not throw things at others.

No, I'm not making any sort of suicidal remarks with this, I'm expressing an alternative or even a compromise. There has got to be a way to shift focus to one's self. Most therapies used in the U.S. are person-centered, meaning that the client is going to run most of the conversation, because that's how issues will be resolved and brought to the surface. But once you walk out that door 50 minutes later, the world no longer cares about your needs and emotions. Fuck, it just wants your money and time.

And I realized, once again, that I am very capable of making myself physically sick after being emotionally sick for a few days. Ever read the Scarlet Letter? I had no doubt in my mind that that clergyman developed his own mark on his chest. The body is capable of some fucked up things.

Needs of instilling some sort of time-frame for myself to do what I need to do and still take care of myself. It will take some schedule fanaggling, but I'd like to give it a try.

Why the hell don't I write things out anymore?

Slowly falling back into the same cycle of destructive thoughts only really gets better when I'm bouncing them off of people who are like, "Really? That's going through your head all day?" I've become desensitized to it. Knowing who those people are has been somewhat of a weird turn of events this past week.

I didn't really know what I was saying when I raised my hand in the No' Pains meeting. When someone mentioned that we didn't have any team bonding anymore, i realized that my emotions about the whole scenario were sort of drastic. "I'm not always used to hanging around girls. Sometimes, since I don't really feel close to anymore, I just come to practice and compare myself to everyone. That means that sometimes at practice, the thought running through my head is 'I hate myself and I hate everyone here just a little bit.'" It wasn't eloquent by any means, but i meant it. Even if I absolutely look up to all the girls I play with.

And then I took a long hard look at the way I spend my time. Run to work, run home to cram some sort of drawing or nap in before derby. Netflix is my cure all for relaxation until I crash.

I think in my attempts to be well rounded, I continue to remove social connections out of my life. I've started to label taking time out of my life to meet and talk with people as a 'burden' on my schedule.

So, my new goal is to incorporate taking care of my mental health vigilantly over the next few months. Perhaps I'll be able to salvage some of the shreds of sanity I still have and stop thinking like an ass-backwards psychopath.

Mourning the loss of my zodiac

To be fair, I didn't think I put a lot of stock into it. But at some point along the road of my life people started to pick out traits for me that were earthy, stubborn, reliable, resourceful-- and I started to think a lot more kindly on my sign.

To be fair, a bull wasn't exactly my "ideal" power animal. Probably because the only image I can muster of one is a bright red cartoon chasing daring, but most likely completely brain-dead, men.

Perhaps this is a sign to forget how I'm categorized by my man-made date of birth in a man-made organization of time, and move on to figuring out what the fuck I think I am.

Or I could try to talk myself into friendly comparisons with another lumbering animal with horns that resides in the 'fire' camp, and is more moody than stubborn.

*shrug* On to the semester of massive decisions and doing over experimenting.

Facebook Suicide Phase 1: The comment wall

In a strange turn of events, this entire semester of Ceramics has been devoted to my decision of deleting my existence out of the social network of this generation. It began in a sort of "protest to the masses" and has now been boiled down to a refinement of the ideas that get lost in such a technology.

Or, rather, face-to-face relationships and everything that exists within them; emotions, body language, eye-contact, inflection, time, etc.

So came the idea to elaborate on the part of me that enjoys making things for others and gifting something that has a personal tie to our friendship. Whether it be a heartfelt message on how much I miss them, care about them, need them or I will explode or an inside joke or phrase that reminds me terribly of conversations we've had in the past and most likely future.



Tiles, in the shape of the comment icon on Facebook were made with an extruder die and a pug machine. (Kind of like Plah-doh). Each were covered in 2 layers of underglaze and were carved into to reveal the bottom-most color.

In a wonderful observation of this process, my hand-writing was retained in the text despite carving.



Some were set to find or given in person. I will be recording my experiences around these as I continue to give them away.



And some are being mailed. Funny, I sent a text to those I needed addresses for and was bombarded within 15 minutes with all but one of those addresses along with sentiments of "Miss you" "Hope all is well" and "I was thinking of you, glad you texted!" Huh, funny what a little thought can do re-attach you with others.

More reactions to follow. Also, a second phase.

Coming soon...
Facebook Suicide Phase 2: The "Like" Button



Links I've stumbled upon or been given in the development of this project:

Losing interest in Facebook
Psychiatrist Fears for Facebook Generation
Why Technology is so Addictive and How You Can Avoid It
Adbusters: Facebook Suicide