Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Whoever Said "The Fun Lies In The Not Knowing" Clearly Has No Idea What Fun Is.

I received the strangest email today... 


It's been a while since you posted it and you're hopefully very much moved on, but I wanted to let you know that regarding the redheaded douche, you dodged a bullet. I've known that particular redhead for a while now and very few people are happy with his dating style. He's a great guy, and a lot of fun in the beginning, but he's a much better friend than he will ever be a boyfriend. Definitely not worth wondering "what if". I hope you're very happy with the guy you're dating now, or just with yourself ;) 

Every day, I’m reminded that I simply have no idea what’s going on. Ever. 

I spent a lot of time getting ready for this most recent bird show that I displayed and sold my artwork at. I took time off of work to finish drawings and spent almost the rest of the little money I had saved on nice frames, prints, mounting boards, etc. I was completely prepared to go in and rock the house. I imagined not only making my money back, but completely replenishing the savings I had depleted in preparation for the event. This was going to be my most successful show yet. 

I had difficulty sleeping the night before for fear that I wouldn’t wake up in time to meet my parents at 5:00am so we could be in Henderson ready to set up no later than 6:00am. I ended up catching about three hours of sleep on the couch with the television on and Bailey sleeping on my face. Comfortable. 

As I was getting ready the following morning, a feeling of dread suddenly came over me. Without knowing why or where the feeling came from, I knew that I wasn’t going to make any money that day. I tried to shake off this feeling. I reached into my toolbox of self improvement tricks and reminded myself that I was worthy of being successful and that I deserved to have prosperity. I took some deep breaths and told myself that I was ready and prepared to have an amazing day. It sort of worked. 

We set up on time and I was very proud of my display. My pictures looked great, my frames looked even better and my prints were laid out professionally. I was ready to feel like a profitable artist. 

I sold an original within the first hour. I was ecstatic. Five hours later, I hadn’t sold anything else. The final hour of the show, I sold three prints. Both purchases were from people who bought from me at the last show. I had mixed emotions. Okay, that’s not true. I was devastated. 

My ego wasn’t hurt. All day long, I was told what a fabulous artist I was and how much talent I possessed. Many people stopped to admire my work. The compliments were endless. But, people weren’t there to buy art. They were there to buy cheap bird toys, bulk food and maybe a parakeet or two. The only thing injured in the whole event was my now non-existent savings account. 

I really thought I knew what I was doing. Yet again, I was shown that I have no idea what the hell is going on or what decisions I should or shouldn’t be making. For only the millionth time, my analytical personality failed me and the unpredictability of the Universe took it’s victory lap. Yeah, yeah... good show. 

The hard part of realizing that I have no idea what’s going on is that I can’t change certain aspects of myself. I can’t change the fact that I am the kind of person who is always searching for answers and the greater meaning of things. I can’t change the fact that I am a planner and that I will always want to know what’s next. I do not “go with the flow” nor do I sit back and “wait for things to unfold as they will”. These concepts are foreign to me. I envy those who can live in the moment and have no desire for a five year plan. It must be nice to have that kind of mental freedom. 

I haven’t been in a place of “what if” when it comes to the redhead. I got blown off... when that happens, I move on. The only “what if”s I have in my life are the ones where I bailed out of fear. Since this has happened often in my past, there are a lot of “what if”s. Yes, it kinda drives me crazy. But, like everything else, I just try to push forward and get to the next step in my journey. 

It helps that Rob has surprised me. He’s not at all like I expected him to be. He’s the furthest thing from a douchebag that I’ve ever met. He’s sweet, gentle, sensitive, quiet, laid back, full of humor and is a master of living in the moment. 

As you can probably imagine, I don’t know how to handle this. Douchebags? I got that... sweet, adoring, complimentary and cuddly teddy bears who make me feel beautiful every time they look into my eyes? Yeah, that’s a little intimidating for me. As the queen of self-sabotage, I almost feel like a recovering drug addict who’s just been dropped into a valley of cocaine sand dunes. 

How long can I keep up the facade of having it together before he realizes I have absolutely no idea what the hell I’m doing? With anything? How long before my bullshit becomes obvious? How long before he looks for an opportunity to pack up his things and leave? Believe me, this course of action is much easier than dealing with me and my brain. 

Ever since the bird show, I’ve been stressing out pretty strongly about my financial situation. I am still struggling to get a good schedule at work, the money has not been as consistent as I’d hoped, the idea of trying to find yet another restaurant to work in is unappealing and I am still attached to all of my current luxuries. Most importantly, my apartment. I’m very afraid of losing my independence and having to move in with roommates again. I’m not ready to give up, but I’m discouraged with my current outlook. 

I’m afraid I’m entering into another relationship destined to fail. I already find myself looking for reasons why it probably won’t work. I’ve had fifteen years of experience in this practice. It’s a tough habit to break. He tried to leave the other day after I had an emotional breakdown and I convinced him to stay. If he tries to leaves again, I know I’ll let him go. I know better than to keep begging. 

Or wait... no I don’t. I don’t know shit. Isn’t that the whole point of this rambling mess? 

The email threw me for a loop. Between that, the results of the bird show and this man that I just can’t figure out, I’m reminded that I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. But something tells me to just keep doing it. 

I don’t know why. Maybe I’m not supposed to. Maybe that’s what others have figured out that I haven’t yet. Who knows.... 

I do know that I hate the not knowing... but perhaps this is what surrendering is truly all about. 

There is one thing I know for sure... I have a shit ton of prints leftover. If you are interested, hit a girl up. I got rent to pay. 


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