For me, thinking of suicide isn’t a bad thing. It’s knowing where the exit is, just in case I need it. It’s reassuring to look over my shoulder and glimpse the green glow of escape. If I see there’s a clear path out, I can calm down and look for ways to get to other, more intriguing doors. Suicide has my back.
You know how buying a gym membership nags at your conscience? (It does, right?) I’m somewhat remorseful when I abandon my ambition to get skinnier or muscle-ier. More remorseful, though, of what I could be doing with that money instead! The opportunity costs are endless to a fiscally minded artist, let me tell you.
Don’t worry, I didn’t buy a gym membership. I bought art supplies. I’m a non-recovering addict, but at least I’m getting better about buying things I’m not about to use and ending up downsizing it from my luggage later on.
So now I’m committed. I’ve done some sketching, have done absolutely NO designs I like at all, and have ordered supplies for block printing on fabric, something I have also never done. Smart right? But I have looked at Pinterest a lot… research is necessary. (Shhh)
Setting out to create a certain number of beautiful designs is a masochistic plan so, before the supplies arrive, I’m going to fail a whole bunch. I’ll churn out really bad sketches of ridiculous subjects and hope some of them will be worth getting past draft stage, and onto t-shirts and bags.
… right after I write about how I’m getting right on that.