I Need To Get Out Of Louisville

For the longest time I was not only content with Louisville, but I was happy. Why shouldn't I be? Yes, this isn't the biggest city in the USA, and even if it is very supportive of the arts, it is virtually impossible to work as an artist (specifically, a performing artist) within the city, but it has everything I ever wanted growing up...so how can I complain? The answer is simple: I can't. I think every single day about how different my life could have been had I grown up in a city that had magnet schools, private institutions with many opportunities for scholarship funding, and exposure, exposure, exposure. My God...

I don't have a time machine, and unfortunately for all of us, time doesn't even stop to let us think for a moment; so it's a total waste to linger on what could have been. I am just grateful to have been raised by two wonderful people who still exposed my brother and myself to as many things as they could. My parents did normal things, like encouraging us to listen to music, having us take piano lessons (6 years for myself, not sure about my brother), enrolling me in ballet, and later, jazz and tap, and of course private guitar lessons for my brother, while I opted to take private painting instruction...but these normal things meant so much more to us than most will ever realize.

For whatever reason, Eastern Kentuckians don't like art. Well, that's a roughly put statement...what I mean to say is that, they don't really care about art. Yes, you will still see plenty of folk art (quilts, woodwork, crafts, and the occasional bucolic painting: see, Russell May), and no I am not saying every Eastern Kentuckian falls into this category; but if someone were to argue with me on this, they better have an argument to back it up. I grew up around friends who, God love 'em, made fun of me for years because I was an artist. I know the majority of it was done in jest, but that doesn't make it entirely okay. It didn't help that the only decent art instructor I ever had during my entire 14-year public school education was in elementary school (a woman who I later mentored under, and realized that teaching anything outside of a collegiate setting wasn't for me). Hell, after my freshman year of high school my school decided to eliminate the art program (yes, you read correctly, the program...all because they wanted to fire the teacher), pushing me even further into the dark away from art education.

So, you see, if my parents hadn't encouraged my brother and me to take initiative outside of school for our art, then we wouldn't have become the pissy, creative little artists we are today. I am getting beside myself, though. The point of this post was about why I need to leave Louisville. In the journey that has been/currently is my life, I feel that Louisville was the perfect stop-over point for me; but I'm ready to move on. This city is comfortable...too comfortable... It feels like an artist's retirement dream (well, if you want small town America + enough of the city life, but not too much of it), but I'm not ready to retire. I'm ready to get out there and fucking work. I need to get out of this city. The world is my oyster, right?

Also, on a random site note: I heard this band called Cibo Matto on Grooveshark earlier and they are so fucking weird I can't resist them. I told Erin that if we had a band, it would be just like Cibo Matto.

Cibo Matto - Know Your Chicken by WBRNewMedia

Story for a Rainy Day...

Today was a little rough for wear on me. I normally get to sleep in on Mondays, but in lieu of this I had to get up early and meet some classmates at campus to work on a project. I won't delve into details, other than mentioning two things:

1. It's a craft project (meaning, it's a waste of time for anyone over about the age of 13)...but maybe I'm biased in being frustrated over this aspect of it because I'm an artist. I already don't like working in groups (see #2), but when I have to do a project that involves creativity of any kind...you may as well just put a gun to my head. It's the same thing...every time...no one else will suggest any ideas, especially nothing sensible, cohesive, or entertaining, and anytime I make a suggestion I may as well have just said it to the wall, cause that's the reaction I get.

2. I HATE WORKING IN GROUPS. Ahhhhh. I'm sorry. I do. Especially when it's a group you don't choose... Nothing is worse.

Anyway. Momentarily shoving aside my anger over this ridiculous project, I'll go on to say that today was really strange. I set my alarm for 9am, but found myself awake around 7:30am anyway. I took my time enjoying the morning, preparing for the day, whatever else. I left the house and stepped out into that last lingering bit of beautiful weather that was blowing away with the storm pushing in. There was even a strange peace with going to a Hobby Lobby at a 10:00am on a Monday. Just me and a bunch of scrapbooking, crafty moms, shuffling through aisles with that odd Christian hymnal elevator music in the background. It was strangely nice. All of it.

I got to school, worked on that project for THREE HOURS, then got to walk around with it in down-pouring rain between class. The thick presentation board was almost soaked through and was starting to bend by the time I headed to my car to go home. At this point, I decided to skip my afternoon class, already affected by the weird haze of the day. So as I walked to my car, rain still pouring everywhere, I found myself soaked to the core along with my (basically) all-paper poster board project. And as much as it sucked to think of that project getting ruined...or knowing that I look and feel like I just took a shower fully dressed from the rain...I started laughing. I had one of those insane beautiful moments where I kept wanting to break out laughing while I walked alone, but I knew I looked crazy so I kept trying to stifle it and just enjoy the feeling. And finally, as I approached the awning to the parking garage stairwell (my safe haven goal from the rain), I saw a man coming down the stairs, fighting with an umbrella as he approached the open sky. It was a fight he lost, as the umbrella immediately protested by blowing backgrounds with the first gust of wind, being more problematic than useful. The guy began shaking the umbrella and yelling loudly, "Fuck this fucking shit! Fucking monsoon!" And that was all it took. I busted out in raucous, almost uncontrollable laughter, only managing to calm myself for the two seconds it took to pass him on the stairwell.

It might not sound like much, but it was a nice feeling...the entire day felt great in such an unfamiliar way. I feel like I don't get too many days like this, so when they come along it's an incredible feeling...and I wanted to share that.

Plus, I mean...that umbrella guy story is funny...

I'll leave you with photos (because I know people only peruse through blogs to look at photos 9 times out of 10) from Twin Peaks since I am currently a slave to David Lynch's universe. You can expect a post all about it here in a few days. For now, though, pictures [spoilers...sort of]:

Celebrating Leo's vegetable-state return home...

Log lady...

Lucy...

Agent Cooper singing the praises of pie...

And of course...I can't resist a photo of Audrey and Agent Cooper...one of those couples that I feel almost morally(?--not sure if that's the word I want to use) wrong for "shipping"...