I don't know what this blog will turn into in the coming weeks and months. It no longer seems to be a record of the aspirations and optimism of a student. I haven't worked out in almost 2 weeks and I hate the way I feel. I hate the way I look. Of course, there isn't much that I am pleased about these days. I began a new painting last night without inspiration other than anger and sadness. Not surprisingly, it looks uninspired. I don't know what I was thinking...did I really expect that I would be able to come out of some long term hibernation from an elementary art life and expect everything I touched with a brush to be magical? What the heck am I trying to prove? What do I want from my art? Why have I ever wanted? For it to be MINE. Obviously, I love recognition for a job well done here and there, but that hasn't happened in a long time. Besides, sad as it is...I never believe it anyway. That's all I want from a career in medicine...not the recognition...I want the satisfaction. I don't want someone to tell me how great I am...I want to feel that what I did and what I am doing is a great thing. I began my life as someone who wanted attention and I did get attention...a lot of it. I didn't know what to do without it. I got attention that I would rather have not gotten. But, somewhere along the road I became the person who didn't want to be the center of it all. I became the person who derived great satisfaction off of making someone feel like they were the center of it all. To see the look on someone's face when they know that you are working for their benefit...geez, that is friggin awesome.

Now, I would rather be in pain silently than draw attention. If I could figure that out, I think it would reveal a lot.

Anyway, I have piece of crap painting on my easel. I can't say that it is complete nor can I say it isn't. All I can say is that it is as far as it is going. The problem is that I don't know where to discard of it. Our next door neighbor is a professional artist and if I were to trash a worked canvas she would certainly notice as it sat in the trash can in the alley. When hubby gets home he is going to ask about it if it is still on my easel. I want it out of here. I would love to torch it, but I would most certainly send something unintended up in flames.

I suck. I wish I didn't believe that.