I don't think I'm permanently broken, though, because I no longer hold the naive indicators of youth, as in, I no longer figure out how i'm feeling by my standing in a group, what permutations of facial expressions might land on me, or how much I might be able to brag. I haven't lost my ego. But I have changed, in a few sharp strokes, my tastes, what it is I consume, who it is I chose to associate, and where I feel comfortable.
That's okay.
I certainly don't have a cosmic structural understanding of events, and I don't think anyone does. That's painful, too. I could be further ahead than I am, but I'm doin' alright, and that's a lot better than where I could be, and I have to remember that everyday. It isn't a joke. That's doesn't mean I don't want or have a sense of humor, or a sharp tongue that's gotten me in trouble. Or that I can't appreciate the soaking epic beauty of a sunny sunday in the mountains. Or that the passing of time doesn't drive me insane in a way that I can't articulate or seem weird when I try in any manner less superficial than weather-speak.
I'm here. Working on what I work on. I like to paint, mostly, and I've picked up the guitar after not playing for about 3 years. It feels good to play it. For me. And not think about all the other people. But boy have I gotten rusty!
Still, I've got a painting here that I'm almost proud of. I don't have a picture of it, so instead I'll show a picture of a previous similar painting and post the new one in soon (which is pink and green, but same style).
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