OCD and...eh...screw it

That is my life, it seems.

Last night while typing my ode to Heather, I had an overwhelming sense of deja vu. But I couldn't remember whether I actually wrote something similar not too long ago on this blog, or if I had just intended to, started, and then quit in frustration. Shaking off the odd feeling, I resolved to pour through the archives until I settled the matter for myself as soon as I finished typing. And when the post was finished...I went to bed.

My syllabus MUST be done. I am keen to finish and have some comfort that at the very least, I have a rough schedule to adhere to. But each time I attempt to work on it again it only reminds me that I have no idea what to do. So I synthesize multiple sources, I want to look into this and that, plan here and there, revise this outline or that powerpoint....and then I have to go to the bathroom and end up reading 2 chapters in my book.

Tonight I am simultaneously uploading all my bookmarks/favorites onto a site called del.icio.us/jayasp (check it out, if you like) AND downloading all sorts of art history podcasts to my new 80 gig ipod (received free and clear...thanks KISD!!). But bookmarking makes me remember that on a disc somewhere are other bookmarks not currently on my bookmarks tab. And downloading podcasts reveals that I'm current neither in the downloading of nor in the listening to multiple Spanish-learning, sermon and NPR podcasts. QUICK! Find the CD! QUICK!! Update all podcasts! Eh...screw it. It's good enough.

I seriously teeter on the edge of losing my mind because I want to have everything perfect, and yet mostly give up and leave everything so far from perfect just to keep my sanity.

There are just too many things, you know? Sometimes you have to let a couple of balls drop. So today I should have painted, done color charts, made some phone calls, submitted my syllabus, gotten ready for company, etc. but it just could not ALL be done.

Gotta go--so much to do. Well...never mind, I think I'll go watch TV.

To My Girl

(I don't know if you always take the time to stop and read this when you open up the internet. I'm hoping the title grabs your attention. Here, I hope to shout from the rooftops how much I love you.)

Let it be known to all that I have an amazing wife.

During dinner tonight, while talking to family, the discussion of household chores (for children/as children) and division of labor (among spouses) came up. The two other couples talked about how helpful and supportive the men were. Then it came our turn, and I jokingly talked about whipping Heather into shape so that she does all the work. Only that is not a joke. She seriously does just about everything. She even joked about cutting our friend's yard, and when the friend inquired if Heather made me go and do it, Heather responded, "Are you kidding? He doesn't even mow our lawn! I did it!" But here is the most amazing thing: she didn't say it reproachfully. She doesn't complain about how heavy her load is. She doesn't screech in my ear that I don't do enough. I can't begin to say how grateful I am for a wife who supports me: who bought a house with a studio before her husband even knew how to paint, who cooks, cleans, chases kids, balances the books, and works on the side so her husband can do what he loves (read, "can be at a job that makes very little money") and then spend hours practicing at his easel out back. If I ever do become a great teacher, or if I ever am able to make a living as an artist, it will only be because of her. That blows my mind.

I have already told her this, but I feel so loved when my wife tells me my hair looks good. She said so in front of her family. That seems petty or vain, but I like to experiment; to change my look. Early on, she was frustrated at my attempts to intentionally look weird, to try a style that didn't quite work, to grow my hair longer (or shave it off) or grow a beard just to see how it looked (okay, okay...and for the attention). But it astounds me the way she has grown. And here's the thing: it's not just that she is more open to my looks or my whims. She is more comfortable with herself--comfortable with the way she looks, secure in her relationship to God, eager to worship and serve him, free to love others and be comfortable with them as they are. That makes me so proud of her. And it makes me feel loved that I can be lovely in her eyes, regardless of the way I look.

And our togetherness has grown over the years. We still have our separate tastes. Hip hop vs. mellow/drama. TV vs. "A Prairie Home Companion." But she listens to NPR because she loves me, and even better, because she is big enough to embrace new things. I can't say I've been able to love rap because she loves it, but she has opened herself to a million things I love, and we now listen to the same things, laugh at the same quoted movie lines, and explore new things together.

To my diligent, hard-working, sacrificial, supporting, serving, passionate, devoted, confident, open, embracing, growing, learning, CROWN of a wife....
HM, I love you.

(Special photo credits to Mandy Rawson who took these phenomenal shots. Thanks!)

apples & tangerines

Here are progress shots on a tangerine painting that I nearly completed, but basically gave up on. It's messed up: the shadow area is too light, and the overall appearance of the tangerine is too cut out, too plastic-y, not integrated enough into the painting. So there you go. (Oh...and the ghost-like orb beneath the tangerine is a false start that never really got covered up.)






I painted with Jon today. Here's what I accomplished in a couple hours (it's a copper pot with purple flowers; the other lines are indications for other items in the still life which I did not get to).

with appreciation to Bishop, "art historian" i ain't

You can smoke a pipe and not be intellectually refined.
You can don glasses and not be any smarter.
You can teach a course in art history and not be an art historian.

So I am learning. I completed a week-long training last Friday, and supposedly I am now fully ready to teach a course on art from the dawn of time to the present day to a group of eager young minds.
Nothing could be farther from the truth.
As I poured over sample syllabi today, I was painfully aware that I had no idea how to structure the flow of the course, let alone enough mastery of the content to actually offer instruction. So this will be a painful year of keeping one step ahead of the students and trying not to be overwhelmed.

All of this makes me think of fear. It's something I've delt with quite a bit lately. Every time I start a new painting, I'm a little bit afraid (and yes, similar thoughts, like, "holding a paintbrush does not make you a painter" do spring to mind here). What if it turns out terribly? What if I don't know how to finish it? Those are the big two. (Oh...did I mention that I concluded my 2+ years of training this past Saturday? So I have graduated...and I'm now on my own).
A mentor once told me that your greatest strength is often your double-weakness. So for me, years of never having to really try, countless successes with everything coming to me easily, it is a bit daunting---no, it's downright terrifying---to push myself past my limits and try to become something more. And this is where fear threatens to undo me. I don't know if I have what it takes to become a great painter, but I WANT to be one. I don't know if I'll be able to do a great job teaching this year, but I'd LIKE to do so. I will admit to sandbagging in the past. Previously, when faced with such challenges, I'd give up or sort of half-ass it. That way I could always say, "It didn't turn out well? Eh....if I'd done my best it would have been awesome." That's much easier to come to terms with than saying, "It bombed? That sucks...I gave it everything."

So I'll wrap up my post. I'll go back to slugging away at the prep for this year's art history. I'll paint tomorrow, even if the end result is less than fantastic. And I'll keep pushing on, even though....shhhh, come in close....i'm freaking out.

finished product

in case you were interested

and now a moment of silence for those things we have lost due to the advances of technology

Mix tapes! Remember those cheap expressions of love; the only way to share thoughts and ideas about sound? Sure, they weren't the best technology--with poor (compared to modern standards) sound, easily coming unwound or being improperly dubbed (resulting in silence; once, when this occurred with my friend Drew he lamented, "It feels like a snag got caught and pulled, unraveling the beautiful sweater I knitted for you"). It was the sharing that was so great. "Here are all my best songs. Some will whisper feelings from me to you. Some show my personality. Some may excite new interest in you and open a doorway to a new common interest among us." A mix tape was a presentation of self. These days I sure do miss a mix tape.

(And NO, telling someone to youtube, itunes, or google something is not the same. Today, we put the work on our loved one. It's like Drew handing me a ball of yarn and a pattern and saying, "Good luck.")


The answering machine. Do you remember the excitement of coming home and wondering if anyone had called? It was almost validating to get a message on the machine, because it means you were missed while you were out, busy living your life. And it was a bit of a game. It was always uncertain whether or not you'd have any messages, and 5 or 6 or more messages was like striking oil.

(And NO, voicemails and texts are not the same. Too regular. Too base. Almost as if anyone can intrude on any moment at any time. Formerly you could be unavailable. Today we clamp the electronic leash around our necks each time we head out the door.)



I've never been a video game person, but the Atari was my first and only gaming system (unless you count the Gameboy). I gave up very early, because when Nintendo and the Sega Genesis came along in rapid succession, both JUST after I forked out my hard-earned and carefully-saved cash on the Atari, and both being JUST a bit better (and more expensive), the handwriting was on the wall. I knew I would never be able to keep up, and it would only keep going, faster and faster, and costing more and more. Did you know that from the years 1970-2006, 71 different game systems were developed (not counting hand-helds/portables)?

Now far from letting this lament die, what other things can you think of?

My Man Murphy

"Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong." (Murphy's Law)

How to turn a pruning project into a 3 day ordeal:
1) Trim WAAAAY too much
2) Break your chainsaw
3) Break your chipper/shredder

Now, it sounds worse than it really was. The chainsaw came back to life. We rented the chipper, so aside from the time it took to swap it out for a new one at the Home Depot, it wasn't that big a deal. And, though the brush pile actually grew, compared to the picture above, prior to chipping, the final portion of the project went fairly quickly.

My hands are blistered, my arms are cut, my muscles are sore, but it's (mostly) done. I wish I had taken video of me lashed to a limb 30 feet in the air, pulling up a chainsaw by a rope and then chopping away. Craziness.

Prior to this huge home care project, however, I was able to complete a painting last week. I've decided to include pictures of the initial process of recovering the beaver skull (mostly to make the grid even without any repeats). As always, the pictures of the painting are fairly poor, but I'll be getting a final, higher quality photo soon and I'll post it as soon as it arrives. Enjoy checking out the progress from start to finish.