Sundrip Journals
Post Secret had a postcard come in concerning a child’s wish to be rescued. The card said that for years she/he wished her real family would take her away from the one she was with. It was all just a bad mistake, and she was going to be loved and cared for by her real family. She was going to be taken home.
I expect to blend in, maybe even blend away when I go in public. I expect to be easily forgotten, easily ignored or not seen at all. I figure I won’t draw too much attention to myself, and any attention I get will be brief. I’ve always thought of myself as easily dismissed for something a bit more stimulating. Expendable is a good word to describe me.
Today I compared myself to an empty oyster shell found at the bottom of the bay. A person could find it, expect to see something beautiful inside, but when they open me up I’m empty, just a shell. I see myself this way and always have.
The dream started off with a mandatory meeting that included everyone employed by the mistress and her porn agency. Employees were gathered to be fired and told they’d fallen prey to the poor economy. What made this meeting different is that the owner wanted to make certain everyone knew just how incompetent they were. Her goal was to break their will and have them leave with less than they came to her with. If the employees agreed to this humiliation they could be eligible for re-hire, if not they could leave and take their chances.
A quadriplegic porn star decided he wasn’t going to be humiliated by the person he made lots of money for. As a matter of fact he was going to take the parrot (an actual parrot who had stared in several small films with him) then go home in his flying wheelchair. The bird was secured in a wooden but round cage and the young man flew about 30 feet above the heads of his former employees then right out the door. The employees were furious that he’d take the bird so they jumped at the chair, but to no avail. The young man was gone and all they could do was yell obscenities and promise revenge.
I took Midori to the doctor the other day and waited for her in the waiting room. Because I’m quite forgetful I had to run back out to the car to get my headphones and sketchbook which I brought along with me to kill time. As I started to go back inside a man was leaving and held the door open for others to also leave. When he held the door open he ended up backing me into a corner which was impossible to get out of until he moved. The problem wasn’t the corner but how close he stood to me while in the corner. (see the little illustration.) This man stood facing me while he let others out the door. The last person he let out he turned his back towards me. All the time he was so close that we were literally face to face.
Every single time I see this person write his name on the net he writes his chosen first, middle and last name. At this time I’ll call him Brian Michael Evans. After a little bit it got annoying. I even thought to myself, is it so hard for you to write Brian M. Evans or Brian Evans and leave it alone? Why your whole name all the time? I get it, you have three names, so do I, get over yourself!
Despite going on and on with all sorts of criticism I was unable to shake that I do the very same thing. Most of the time when I write my name I write all three of my chosen names, Faith Magdalene Austin. Why do I do this, I thought? By now anyone who regularly reads this blog knows I chose this name rather carefully then changed it legally so that I could move past the pain of my old name. What I’ve come to realize is I still struggle to feel as if I exist in my own space without threat of extinction due to outside influences. What I mean is after years of dehumanization it is still a struggle for me to completely believe that I get to keep “me”.
The little person drawn in this image is my mother. I have a very old photo of her that shows her as a tall, skinny and awkward girl. She looked to be maybe 15 years old in the photo with her 3 sisters. What struck me about the photo is that its one of the only ones where she looked like a real, live person. Most other photos she’s made up nicely and has a mannequin appearance to her. In this one I saw an awkward child that I could actually relate to.
In the art piece she’s dressed as a carrot and is holding a heart. The heart is the false love she gave to me because I ate my vegetables. She was so proud to tell people her daughter was a vegetarian. It made me different and made her the center of attention. This is much like the story Show and Tell where I had something “different” about me that could be exploited for narcissistic gain. Boy did my mother tell as many people as would listen that her daughter is a vegetarian. This time she didn’t seek sympathy, just attention in general. The mother in this art piece is faceless.
Whomever decided it’s easier to hate than to love must have never truly felt hatred. Whomever decided its easier to be angry than to accept joy must have never truly felt angry or anguish. This is not easy. At this point I’d give my right arm to not feel this kind of hatred and this kind of anger. Just like with love, this type of hatred and anger is all consuming. I feel it when I wake up, when I walk across the floor, when I look at the TV or the PC screen I feel it. I’m not getting anywhere with this. I’m stuck. It feels like it’s getting worse.
A few days ago I turned the TV on and saw a commercial for a new episode of CSI:Miami where a young girl was abused by her mother. The mother yelled at the girl, “If you want to act like an animal I’ll treat you like one.” She then grabbed her head and shoved it into a dog’s bowl on the kitchen floor. Where did they get my family’s private home videos?
See also the Directory for a listing of all pages under the name SUNDRIP.
Galleries on the SUNDRIP - Art for Life website
FAQ and Info
Therapy Dolls Gallery
Innocence Gallery
The Pretty Picture Gallery
The Fantasy Gallery
The Visionary Gallery
Women of Strength
Faceless Beauty
Click the sunflower below for print offers at my ETSY shop
All images are © to Sundrip Journals. All rights to the images and ALL content on this site and on all Sundrip Journals belong exclusively to the artist. If you send me an email it is not the same as asking for permission. You must receive back affirmation of use. Without the affirmation you cannot use my images or works in any fashion commercially, non-commercially or for personal use. The purchase of art does not transfer the right of reproduction to the purchaser.
Copyright 2009-2010 @ Sundrip Journals. All rights reserved.
Thank you for visiting Sundrip Journals.
Another way to contact me is to leave a comment or message at the General Comment Hub. At the hub you can mark your message as "Private" and I won't publish it. I will, however, respond when it's appropriate to do so.
RECENT COMMENTS