Gina Marr

RED VELVET is tomorrow. All my work is up in the gallery, I am feeling relief that all I have to do now is show up, enjoy myself and give Sheena a big congratulations hug. While struggling to find inspiration and the drive to finish my work for this show I have been going through some odd times.

I have been a mess recently, really really a complete mess. Not thinking nor doing the things I know I should be. I have forgotten a lot of things, forgotten why I am on this planet. Forgotten what I’m good at and how to avoid the things I’m bad at. But this is who I am, at the core a very good person with good intentions but it’s taken me a while to finally own up to the fact that I can sometimes be a very awful person who does awful things.

So admittedly I’ve been a little depressed lately and I suppose I’ve been trying to drink myself out of it. But obviously being drunk is much more like drowning than rising and I am hoping with all my might that I can RISE above the dark current that seems to be much stronger than me and looking in all directions for that branch or that break in water, that I could possibly lift myself up to safety. And then the only memory of my near drowning will be the soaking wet clothes clinging to my body and even they eventually will be stripped away and I will be warm again.

So been doing a lot of thinking recently about how I react to things, how my emotions keep me from expressing how I truly feel. Another journal entry:

April 9th, 2009

No one likes to argue, well except for people who are addicted to it. I for one grew up in a home, a family, where conflict was the way to resolve all matters. We don’t see eye to eye on something? Let’s fight about it. You hurt my feelings? Let’s fight about it. You didn’t give me what I wanted exactly when I wanted it? Let’s most definitely fight about. This was the pattern with things and last night I realized “OH MY GOD” I have sabotaged every single relationship because of my anger and my inability to express my feelings in any other way besides yelling, slamming, stomping and huffing. It’s only been very recently that I have been pushed by him to be open, not angry and closed off, but open and exposed. “Just say how you feel. How you really feel. Tell me”.  Scary scary words, a truly terrifying notion that I should open my mouth and let this all come out. Do we have enough time? Is your skin thick enough? I have convinced myself that what I have to say will push you away and the things that I think are ridiculous and there you will go running just a fast a possible in the opposite direction. So everyday I get older the problem becomes more clear. The things that are keeping me from happiness, from reaching the next stage, the best possible version of myself are: fear and anger. What a horrible combination but found so often in this world. I wonder how can I shake myself of them. How can I wake up and say “I’m not going to let this or that bother me SO MUCH”? I have a problem. I’m completely aware of it. And the funny thing is,  I have gotten much better from how I used to be. My sister and others can attest to that. My temper has gotten soooo much better. So will that fire inside of me just die down with time and old age? Or will it’s embers always linger with me, the danger of any spark igniting them again.

Your advice is warmly welcome.

The quietness on my blog, I apologize for this but I’ve been working and thinking and being generally “away” from my computer in the evenings which is when I get my blogging done but needless to say some life will return here relatively soon.

A lot of people ask me why I never write so much here and I think it’s simply because I am better with visuals. I associate emotions and events with images and truly love to tell a story with them much more than with words. However I write all the time, pushing myself to write at least once a day in my journal, an overview of the day’s highs and lows so that I may look back in a week, a month or a year and see some physical proof that I indeed existed on January 8th 2009 or some other date I don’t want to forget. Because time escapes us so quickly, it’s easy to lose a day and all the amazing and/or terrible things that happened on that day get lost right along with it. So it was suggested to me that I share some of this writing here in hopes that the people who read this blog will see I am actually a flesh and bones human being and not just a computer that pushes “publish” every hour Monday through Friday.

It is extremely hard for me to share this. I don’t like how this all sounds when I read it back to myself.

April 1, 2009

There is a bench around the corner from my office where I go to read sometimes and it’s “my bench” now and when I am having an off day it’s an absolute must to go there and read, smoke too many cigarettes, rain or shine. Completely close myself off from all the people passing by going to their next appointment, to lunch, to here, there and everywhere. The sounds of this city disappear and are replaced with your wonderful words read aloud in my head. And especially in the rain sitting there freezing to death I have had these “a ha” moments where the only warmth I feel is from the hot tears rushing down my face and splattering onto the paper in my hands. It’s very good to cry in the rain. The water from the sky and the water from your eyes mixes together and in that moment I realize that quite possibly the whole world is crying with me and I feel a little less alone and a little less small. I have wells of tears from over many years and over many people stored up for such occasions. And in these past few weeks it feels as if I am always on the verge to cry, that any second a word or a glance will be the final hit it takes to crack open my makeshift dam and a huge surge of hot salty water will come pouring down my face.

But I don’t want to complain about it, I like to cry just as much as I hate it.