January 10, 2020


So much has changed in the last decade. Change is good of course, but often unsettling. I pride myself on adapting to situations and creating art out of these adaptations. Life, as it were.

My cousin was in California the other day for a corporate training thingy.  Her pleasantly comfortable hotel was a mere 2.5 hours from where I live, but since that's much closer than the 3-day drive to Atlanta, I packed an overnight bag and met her for dinner. The next day I had planned to drive down the coast, find a quaint beachside motel, and do that hotel thing I so often fantasize about. The fantasy is disproportionate to reality now. Instead, I ate lunch, people-watched in the beachside tourist town, (tourist towns feature predominately in my life now) cancelled my reservation at the perfunctory but downwardly-mobile motel and drove back home that day. In traffic.

I'm not an outgoing person. Maybe at one point I will be, (I doubt it) but overall if we were to make a graph, we'd see that no, I've pretty much flat-lined in the social arena all my life. And maybe that's okay. However it wasn't until this exposure came back from the lab that I realized the work I think I should be doing—and the work I actually am doing are worlds apart, and that maybe Morandi was onto something, and that maybe, still lifes are self-portraits.

That's all I've got for today.

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It's over.

Nov 7, 2020. Tears of joy and relief. It's been unreal and I'm ready to get back to a sense of normalcy. The desert has been tough.