Ready to go deep into my psyche?

Let's go deep into my brain and reveal how I work.

If anything, those who have read the bulk of my blog here have seen how driven I am to do what I do and be successful at it. I've never wanted a superstar status at it. I never wanted to be Brad Pitt. I just wanted something comfortable. Something small. Something to where I can put food on my table and say "my art did that." Simple.

I remember being a kid. I wanted to be an astronaut (cause I saw Don Knotts do it in THE RELUCTANT ASTRONAUT). Then I wanted to be a cop (Just because of the POLICE ACADEMY movies!). But those were really just unclear ideas. Like when in kindergarten a kid will say they want to be a fireman, or a ballierina or princess. They don't have any real concept of what they want or what they are able to achieve. Not really. But all that changed for me the day I discovered THE SECRET CITY TV SHOW on PBS. It must have been 1985-86. I saw that dude drawing on the page. and I wanted to do that too. It interested me. I drew along. My parents got me his "Secret Club Kit" with booklet, paper and more. I drew along. Every day. Art teachers began to notice. Throughout the elementary and middle school years, I won many art awards. I won art competitions and contest after contest. I really, really, deep down.. I felt that this was my calling. I wasn't good at math or science. History interested me, but not as much as art. Art was always there. When I lived alone out in the country, no neighbor kids to play with, my brothers all grown up and gone, all I had was art. Drawing things. Creating worlds for myself. It was all I had. And I was damn good at it.

High School, I discovered comic books. Then I discovered the indie comic scene. It all seemed so accessible now. I could do this. I understand this. I know how to make this. And so I did. I joined a group of college students. Me. A fifteen year old kid, with a bunch of twenty-somethings. And I did more stories in those books than they did. Far more. Of course, I was undefined then. I was a copier. I had no style of my own. I wasn't me. I took graphic design classes and ran my first comics on the offset press. I wrote, drew, scanned, developed negatives, burned plates, ran them all on the press, and stitched and sold the books all myself. I was doing it. I did it. I knew nothing else, nor cared for anything else. Art was my world. My mom bought me an oil painting set on QVC. I learned to oil paint. I tried it all. Everything. and I was really digging it. I loved it. It was the only thing that made me happy.

After high school, I stopped. I got into management at my job and really thought that I should attempt to stop pursuing dreams and go for money. Save money and move up in a company. Save up and find a mate, a home, white picket fence, all of that stuff. Well, that job proved to me that I wasn't wanted. They promoted someone else over me, when I completely deserved it more than she did. I was years ahead of her. This isn't just me being vain. Seriously, I had it in the bag. But it didn't happen. I was betrayed. All my hard work, for nothing. My first thought hit me: I am not meant to do this.

I began to believe that something or someone was pushing me. Like fate was stepping in and putting me on a path. Or a God. Whatever. Point is, I listened. I went to college. I found my way back to my comics. My mother died. My first thought was to put my pain into my work. Into a new comic. I did. Pleasant Life. and I did that for seven years. I knew my art needed work to get to a "publishable, professional level" and so I kept working at it. I kept learning mistakes and in public no less. I went to the conventions and sold nothing. And then started selling. I Started to get fans. I started to get friends. I branched off and did new projects. I was "wanted" to do these things with people. I cannot tell you how great that made me feel. I felt like I was being accepted.

Despite all of this momentum, I never have achieved my dreams. Even in times of doubt, I kept getting what I percieved as "signs" that I should never give up. That I am meant to keep going on this path. And I listened. I believed it. Even after every crap thing thats happened to me, I felt saying to myself "I'm headed to bigger things. This makes me stronger," etc. etc.

Question is: Am I fucking crazy? Am I fooling myself here?

Let me share something with you all:




This is a piece I did in college, we had to do a piece where we drew our worst fear. Most people drew snakes, or heights, or drowning and death. I did this... a montage that was about my failure. My mouth sown shut. Critics giving me thumbs down. Blank canvases, empty movie screens. Me in a maze of cubicles working a job I hate. Unnoticed. Uninspired. Not important. Not cared about. Just a cog. Just a nothing. A nobody.

I've always felt that working a job that you don't like doesn't creatively inspire you. Thats true. and it certainly effected my mood to create when I was in a negative environment. So I was never content to just go for the money again, like I did in the past. I kept finding jo jobs. Even with a college degree under my belt, I kept settling for minimum wage jobs. Over and over again. Never thinking I could do better. Cause soon, I will get good enough, the stars will align and my hard work will pay off for me.

Well, I'm 31 years old with a family. The urges of bills, family, debt and morale are pulling at me. Rightfully so. I am concerned of these things. I guess there's always this point where people defy logic and go for their dreams. Like the guy who quits his high paying job and lives in a van traveling from gig to gig to make that big record deal in the sky. some talented people too. And its the same with art. There are millions of artists out there. and all have merit. But only certain ones got what it takes. A mixture of talent and drive.

I've always wondered if I got it or not.

One hand, I've got people that say yes and on the other, say no. So what do I believe? What feelings do I cultivate? I mean, I don't want to fool myself. I don't want to ignore truths if there are any to be told. I want to improve and I seek counsel when I can. I take or leave what it says to me. But it all still keeps me on the path of my dreams. Cause failure is not an option. Not an option. It would kill me.

Believe me, there are times when I want to, or feel I should give up. Like, I'm not there after all I've done so why go on? But still... something tells me no. To keep doing it. Perhaps I am too stupid to quit on things. I've never really been a quitter. More of a cukold for abuse and ill will. Some call it being a "wall of strength" or a "backbone" or whatever. I can take alot. Trust me, I can. But sometimes I do get close to the edge. Close to saying that perhaps I should have stayed where I was at McDonalds and tried HARDER. that perhaps I wasn't as awesome as I thought I was. (even though deep down I know that isn't true) That if I would have stayed, I would have a huge house, a fence and not have to live paycheck to paycheck. My dreams wouldn't have been dreams, but mere fantasy. Fleeting, hysterical and useless.

So what to do now?

I guess my thoughts are this: I've worked hard. I've tried as hard as I can. I'm taking my books to the people this year. I'm going to San Diego to pitch things. I'm giving it one last year worth of a try. And I do not succeed, then I will have to re-evaluate it all. and become this other person... not myself.

My biggest fear right now is what to do a year from now. Five years? Where will I live? The wife and I want to move from here. But where? I got a comfortable job now with a company that is high in profits. There certainly is room for potential growth and promotion. but I still feel like its not for me to do that. That my heart lies in the art. Maybe I could go higher up in the company. maybe I can find a way to go back to school and get a more useful degree or pursue teaching in art. Maybe I'll win the lottery or get in a car wreck tomorrow and sue somebody and have enough money to live out my life comfortably and never worry again.

I have no fucking clue.

The point of all of this is this: We're born on this planet. We got 50-80 years base to live that life. Do you want to live the way you want to, pursuing your dreams and doing what makes you happy? Or live a life that isn't really "you" but you do it to survive a while until you die? What do you want to leave behind? Picard said in STAR TREK GENERATIONS: "What we leave behind is not as important as how we've lived."

But right now, I have no idea how I want to live from this point forward. Where do I go? What do I do? what is right for me now? No clue. No clue. So, if fate or God is out there, I'd love some good news... some new sign showing me the way. I'm tired of waiting and working hard and getting nowhere.

I appreciate all your love and support out there. Lets make 2009 a year to remember. Burn out or fade away?

We'll see.

Luvs, T