Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Baking Bread

(Note: I am still on some self-imposed Internet break so I can get shit done. But I will post a blog now and then. So here's one. Enjoy.)



Today I baked bread. It was a big moment. I moved into this apartment on January 16th. I haven’t done any cooking in the last couple months. I just haven’t felt like it. I haven’t felt like myself really at all. I cranked out the Avengers 2 cards barely. I haven’t even touched the next set I am on. And I got another card set coming this week I think. I’ve ceased all production on Starslam and Anna 2, and I am just stalling. I don’t even know where all my pencils are. I just haven’t felt the drive to draw anything at all. While I got a TO DO list a mile long, I just sit and stall. I don’t know why.

Lately I am on autopilot. I get about 3-5 hours of sleep a night. I work one job. Come home and attempt a nap but end up just tossing and turning. Apply for higher paying jobs that don’t call back. Then I get up and head to the other job. Since its overnights also, that fucks with my patterns. I have no TV so I can’t keep up with any of my shows. Better Call Saul and Walking Dead are on and I can’t watch them except for illegal streaming sites. There’s not much NEW that I’ve dissected. However I did get the newest Marilyn Manson album, which is surprisingly good.

The death of my second mother is like a gaping wound right now. I have plenty of other wounds around it too. Some are healing. But this one is fresh. It cuts deep. It taps into things I wasn’t ready to think about again. I work alone at the gas station and late at night when I am done listening to Cds, I sit and think. Or talk aloud to myself. Maybe its me going crazy. Quite possibly. I can do crazy. I’m good at it! I think about all that I use to distract myself from actually getting down to business. Like the internet. I surf Facebook and I just sit and waste time. Precious time I could be using to get my shit done. But the drive just simply hasn’t been there. I feel tired all the time. I feel weak.

This week is Valentine’s Day. Everyone is coming into my store buying cards, presents, balloons, etc. I smile back most of the time. Wow, look at them being happy in love. I am happy for them. That’s genuine. But then a goddamn song comes on the speakers and it makes me sad. Stephen Bishop’s “It Might Be You.” The song from TOOTSIE. It only took one line. One simple fucking line. “Wishing there would be someone waiting home for me…” UGH. But I’m not even going to get into that. But then the questions come. “You got big plans for Valentine’s Day?” It’s meaningless chatter to make with your friendly neighborhood cashier. But they don’t know they just helped twist the knife just a bit more as it hangs there. Deflect it with a joke. That’s easier. Hide it. Hide myself. Don’t let them see you bite your lip again. I bite this part of my lip when I start to feel the sudden sting of possible tears. It’s sore as hell.

I put forth Internet silence as a punishment for myself to tell me to get the fuck back in the game and get back to work. I got artwork that needs to be done. Artwork has always been there for me. As a kid, I dealt with bullies by drawing. When my mom died, I put her story in my comics. The list of examples goes on and on. It’s just how I deal with things. I’ve wrote a new book. A mini-book that I want to do on the side.

I’m still raw. I’ve been beat to death the last year. How I am still in one piece, I have no idea. I don’t know what’s keeping me standing here. But I am. And as I have recently told myself in a dark time not long ago: “I’m not done yet.”

So today, I dusted off the stove and used it for the first time. I made banana bread. I don’t even have all the proper utensils or a mixing bowl. I had to use what little I have to mix it all together. But I baked it. Later after cooling I tasted it. Delicious! Still tastes the same as if I cooked it six months ago. It tastes like I made it. I’m still me. I’m going out and meeting new people and having new experiences. I’ve had some deep, deep talks recently with friends. Its helped me reconnect and make me realize that no matter what, I’m still me. And I still can draw. And I still bake bread. And nothing has changed me. The core me. The bread tastes the same. The artwork will still come. I just need to get going.

I’ve got many adventures left to go on. Time for me to get back in the saddle and get to work.

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