With the passing of Bowie, Rickman and the other beautiful people who have returned to their starward homes these past few weeks, I am reminded of my solumn and chaotic vow to continue to create this year. Even though it is sometimes painful. Even when the rejection is out there.
Now, you all saw DunneCon and what an amazing spontaneous success that was.
When Steven and I are working together on a project, we find it just as exciting and hilarious as you do. We laugh, we cry, we think, (but only about five minutes into the future at maximum,) we worry about what others may say or think... all of the things an artist parent does when they unleash their art child onto the world; we wonder if its good enough, and at our base elements we are asking simply, "do you love me?"
I, over time, have not felt as loved as I could for one reason or another. I'm always afraid that I'm not good enough, even for the freaks who love me. I can't speak for Steven here, but I'm sure sometimes he feels the same way.
Its not for lack of love, its our own inner critic saying "what the fuck, you are never going to get away with this!" And then, much to our surprise, we do.
I have in recent years been less willing to share my pain because some pain is ugly. Pain isn't flattering. It's a runny nose, runny eyes, smearing mascara, bleeding...
Pain is living, and boiling over, and on top of everything else, makes people uncertain of how to react.
We were paid the greatest compliment the other day by our friend Daemon. She said "You two are my favorite couple."
Although we have day jobs, and families and very normal "mundane" aspects of our lives, we live primarly as artists. We invite random people into our home to crash overnight, or for a week, or for as long as they need. We paint, we play music, make love, paint, make delicious food, read, write and generally live as free as moments will allow. We would not have been afforded this lifestyle if a whole crapload of bad shit didn't fall into our lives first, however.
Yes, Ziggy Stardust is gone. He wouldn't want us to mourn for very long, he'd want us to "make ourselves" as he so aptly put it.
So this year, I'm making myself as the artist, the adult, the writer, and the dreamer I always knew that I was while I was attempting (and failing at) raising my kids. I am challanging myself to do everything all at once. I wish to have at least one of my novels or novellas published by the end of the year. I'm already showing a painting at an art show this year. I want to play more music and put it up as videos on YouTube for others to enjoy. BUT, most of all, I want to untie myself from the idea that to be a successful adult, one cannot be a successful artist, because that's complete bullshit.
<3
Dee
