An artist am I?

Escher was the one I said influenced me during the interview at the contest.

So am I an artist? I would think that putting together a portfolio would qualify that answer as a positive. I do create art and thus that makes me an artist.

Aren’t artist supposed to use their right side of their brain more though? Because I use my left. When I draw something I think of it in mathematical terms or views of spacial reasoning. What looks better where and such is my thought process.

I mean I do think of the meaning of what I’m drawing but I do it as symbols. In my recent contest (today) I entered a piece that was called Shattered Mask. It was a self-portrait of myself (With long hair at the time) in pencil but it was shattered like that of a mirror. The thing was though that I had my hands on my face, fingers around my eyes for example.

The reasoning was that in society we wear a mask that hides who we really are to the world. What I wanted to show was that the masking we put on ourselves can break and shatter like a mirror and you can see glimpses of what is underneath.

Pretty deep stuff considering that it is all in one picture I drew for an assignment.

Does this make me an artist though? By definition I would say that I qualify but then anyone can be an artist.

Being an artist isn’t that special. It is the quality of what you create that is. Maybe I feel more like an artist because of the quality of my work has risen from what it was before.

Sometimes when I go back and read something that I have written before (ie. My first post to this blog) and compare it to something a VERY long time ago, I realize how much I have grown as a writer. Now on that, calling my self a writer is not really true or an utter lie. I write but that can’t necessarily mean I am a writer.

Maybe I question what really makes me an artist because I realize that I have been thinking myself as one for a while now.

But for the life of me I can’t really remember when.

Maybe I shall take this up again

So I have changed the look to this blog but nothing has really changed (PS it kinda looks similar to the last style I had it on). It is still a blog and it will do the thing that blogs should do. Talk about something that is what I deem important. Excuse me but this is MY blog and I shall say whatever I like. (self-important deal over with)

This blog has a meaning and it is to realize what is going on deep inside my head. Yes people my mind. I am a thinker. I like to think, it makes me feel alive unlike other crazy forms to feel alive, this one is productive and good to share.

I want to share with everyone something that my good friend shared with me the other day and that is a personality test. Yes I know the first thought to that is ugh another test that tells me something stupid and isn’t even close. Well, I’m not going to say that it’s not true for this test but it did work for me. I would say that it was spot on. It told me a lot about my self that I already knew but it was interesting to see it all out there in one thought. A continuous idea and grasp of my personality in a nutshell.

Ok so I didn’t really get how it got to what it did from those questions but it was very interesting to take the test and get accurate results back.

I suggest you go to the site. I looked it back up on google but it is basically personalitypage.com

I was labeled as the Scientist. INTJ is what I got and I found it to be very accurate with me.

What I read though when going through the site was a quote that completely goes with the title of my blog “Whats behind the mask”

It says that many INTJ’s find it “useful to learn to simulate some degree of surface conformism in order to mask their inherent unconventionality.”

Yeah that’s me to a T.

If you need a deciphering of that well its like this, I am weird and like to keep to myself. People are judgey and can be plain downright mean. I don’t like to hinder my life with useless nonsense so on the surface I am normal. I find it useful to appear normal so as to live my life without people bugging me so much to not be weird. While in fact the whole time I am extremely odd. Take that judgey people I am weird and you can’t do anything to me.

My brother says this all the time. He says that no one knows who I really am. That I think I am smarter than everyone untill proven otherwise and I am actually just lying to everyone.

In part he is correct but I have to say that everyone is like that. I would think a person is extremely foolish to put themselves out there to be hurt so easily like that or extremely brave and strong.

To be honest I would take it objectively and see how they really are. If they are in fact not a complete idiot than brave. If the other. Well foolish is my label for you.

I found that when you look up INTJ in images it brings up a bunch of silly stuff. And to answer those photos from the various sites this is my formal on the record response as an INTJ type person.

“I will takeover the world and melt your brain. Good luck to you.”

I am the one on the right

When I get home, I kick my shoes off

My feet always hurt lately. I always feel more comfortable when I take my shoes and socks off. Something about feeling my bare feet on my hardwood floors makes me happy. It’s one of those home like feelings.

For me home smells like fresh-baked bread small hint of tobacco, dust and maybe some mold due to the moisture and heat. But that is just how I like it. It sounds like a constant running fan, 3 TV’s going on at the same time and the often sound of yelling. Ah yes home sweet home. Living without those constants would make me a little disheveled.

Its moments like those that relax me and make me believe everything is going to be ok.

Walking all the time or riding my bike (i decided to name her Charlene or Charlie for short i decided to follow my friend’s lead and name an inanimate object) She is very reliable and well, my feet always ends up hurting when ever I finally get home.

I have been getting calloused lately and I guess that just shows the journey I have taken over time. I wonder if you could look at someones feet and hands and see how they lived and what they lived through.

I havent lived long nor have I done much yet but I still have time.

Some how whenever I start typing these things it always end back up at time. I guess it’s how we realize things happen when we look back or maybe its because we live in its realm and its the force of nature that erodes us over time like the wind does to a rock. Oh I don’t know.

Maybe I am just perplexed by time.

You know there is also something else I change when I get home. I take off my mask and relax. I guess whenever I leave my house for class and I get dressed and put on my socks and shoes I never seem to forget to put on my mask. Well lately I have been peaking out from behind it lately.

It’s probably my government class. It usually makes me think and show myself how I think about things. I guess classes at college can make you realize who you are as a person.

My shoes shield me from the ground but when I get home I feel safe enough to take them off and feel the ground. Sometimes I even walk outside in the dirt and feel it in between my toes.

I guess when I take off my shoes I feel safer. Or maybe I am just looking too much in to this and I just like the feeling of being barefoot because it’s more comfortable than having shoes on.

Another thing I realize when I type these things is that I realize how little I know and well, it can make me feel insignificant. And I tend to sigh a lot too.

If I had to guess I take my shoes off when I get home because finally I can rest and relax. Finally, if only for a moment, I can rest and take down my mask, my guard.

That is, untill I have to go out again.

Then I will just journey on and feel time weather me till a moment I can’t even imagine.

I guess we just have to be troopers and keep moving on.

Then we’ll look down and take off our shoes and remember and see on our feet and shoes what we did and how far we went.

The Last Time I Thanked Someone

To be honest, I haven’t really thanked anyone recently. Other than really saying “thank you very much” sarcastically. To be honest I am an extremely sarcastic person and I blame my father for imprinting that quality onto me and my little brother.

The last time I said thank you was a day or two ago when I was taking the bus home from along day at ACC catching up on work. I was tired and reading my Government book hoping it wasnt going to rain. Well it didn’t take long before the bus got there thankfuly and so me and a couple of miscellaneous people jumped aboard the city bus. So I went and sat down by myself near the exit because I wasnt going to ride the bus that long, when this guy sits behind me and says hello. He introduced himself, said his name and gave me his hand to shake ( I can’t really remember his name just so you know I am bad with names) and being the kind person smiled and said my name. He said he noticed me and that I looked sad and that I had pretty hair and that some one with pretty hair like me shouldn’t be sad. So I smiled, thanked him for the compliment and turned around.

Ok to be honest, I was creeped out. It was random and a little weird. I was not that sad. I was tired, totally different. I liked being complemented but what he said was silly to me.

How I feel has nothing to do with how I look. Just because people say that when your pretty, doors open and you have a happier life doesnt make it true. It is just plain stupid.

I have feelings because I contemplate things and just because I happen to have a semi-pretty looking face/hair does not make me happy.

I don’t know. What he said just pissed me off. It was such as simple and ignorant way at looking at life. I don’t know what he was thinking or if there was an alternative motive or not but whatever.

I guess this goes to show how terrible I am at accepting complements. It’s interesting that I am a skeptic and still manage to put on a happy face for others and stay diplomatic in some awkward situations.

That was the last time I thanked some one. I put up that mask hid behind it yet again. Oh well.

The whispers in the night

Thoughts run through all minds, or at least all the minds that are working as they should. I find that my thoughts run faster when I am alone and its dark. These thoughts reveal who we are and show our true nature. And this leads me to fear that my thoughts if voiced uncensored would impede and trample the feelings of others. So I find that I end up wearing a mask that hides these raw thoughts.

This mask is strong because over the years it has hidden my insecurities, bonded and sealed my thoughts and only let through the sifted and safe ones to voice out loud in the daytime. Some would say this is overly sensitive and leads to messed up emotions due to bottling them up, but at night I can unbottle these emotions. I let go these unheard thoughts, these unspoken thoughts and whisper them safely into the night.

The night to some, is frightening and unsafe, but to me its a haven, a place of safety from the light that would expose my face so easily readable for all to see. These emotions I try to hide revealed for all to see. You see, people go out at night, sleep at night while I am safe and secure in the darkness of my room at midnight.  When I feel safe I lift my head and whisper the thoughts that reveal the truth I feel. At night I take of my mask. The strong mask that everyone sees. I reveal and allow myself to feel what I truly feel. Because I am safe.

I can hide in the night and not be seen or heard. The darkness of the night and the safety of my room hides my revealed self. In the dark, I now discard my veil and show myself but in the same moment show it to no one. Or at least that’s what I did before.

But now I find a computer screen in front of me, lighting up my face. Revealing the one behind the mask and displaying it for all to see. These black letters are just as dark as my room hiding the truth in me but are lit up by the computer screen. I am revealed for all who wish to see. And its scary. These thoughts were only for myself and if no one reads them it fine with me. The thought of others reading my thoughts scares me because reading one’s thoughts is more than that. You are reading me.

This is me. These incoherent babbling thoughts on life and all the creatures in it like myself reveal who I am. The essence of me. Everything you read hides a little of that person who wrote it inside. For you are seeing something that most people never reveal to strangers. I believe this is my soul. These letters typed into cyberspace for all to see is documenting and preserving who I am at this second in my life.

While I doubt that anyone would find the ramblings of a young girl interesting, I hope that this young girl will be entertaining and memorable enough for you to accept.

We all just want to be accepted.