as my bones exhale sulfur

Well, folks. Cancel your subscription to The World According To Kendra.
Cos the lessons learned these past few days have shaken and changed me so much I feel they've knocked the marrow out of my bones.

Its clear I've been in a debilitating amount of emotional pain recently. So much so that a few nights ago I even had a dream that someone was taking a steel hammer to my jaw, and shattering all my teeth.

But I've been smart enough (and lucky enough) to have filled my life with enriching resources, to pick me up when I've fallen, to carry me when my strength has left me. So I've come to a plateau in My Grief over my Failed Love: I've finally Let Go.
I spoke with my Angel Mother, whose Reality and whose Perspective shook me so intensely that I felt rattled within my own skin.
Then I met Agata's mother, whose kind eyes, warm food, and open embrace moved like waves of Healing over my bleeding heart.
Then I accompanied Agata to an AA meeting, where the topic that day was: breakups. The speaker had 10 yrs of sobriety, and his partner of 9 yrs came to him 2 months ago to tell him she was leaving him for another man; he had never seen it coming. This story was not at all similar or even remotely parallel to my current situation, but the Pain, the Agony, that he spoke from- that look in his eyes as he told his story- I cried that entire hour. I sobbed on Agata's shoulder the whole time. I cried so hard I didn't even realize I was sweating.
When I went home, the intensity of the emotion and the Change and the Lessons and the Grief and the Shame and the Sadness and the Agony and the Pain and the Regret and Humiliation and all of it all at Once hit my system so hard I vomited and sweated for the next two hours. My body was literally releasing my failure from me.

Now, I see myself as I was in that relationship. I see what the disorders did, I see what I did. I see Love, I see Reality, I see it all now. And I see why it had to end.
I still feel a sorrow so deep it rivals the Grand Canyon. I still feel a loss so great it blinds me.
But if I've learned anything, Everything happens for a reason.

current mood: humbled.
current music: beach fossils - daydream

licking my wounds while i bite the bullet

it feels like my heart is in my throat
and its swallowing itself


i am calm on the outside
hollow
i am a constant choke

let that (hay)fever play

Epic Fail #783: How I spent my cinco de mayo: Last night I burned my tongue on some organic shepherds pie that I was too eager for. I readjusted my approach and started again in the middle, since it was still frozen there. Sad little pathetic life.

But really, I was home because I am busy with prep work for the Hay Cake project. It's tomorrow, ya know, the Sheep Shearing/Kendra's 'Happening'. I originally started this post with: 'Tomorrows the big day', but I've found I've been having quite a few Big Days lately. If I step away from the BPD view, life has generally been quite well recently. Its just those moments. God they feel unbearable and toxic, like my body is poisoning itself from the inside out. I'm not too adept at finding my way out of them just yet and so it just feels like a very precious drowning death.

And of course, in honor of tomorrow's Opening, I can feel my Borderline Personality Disorder on full blast. I'm dissociating quite a bit even as I type this, and each sentence is a struggle to finish on the same subject it started with. Does that even make sense? I 've lost the ability to tell.

My mind is spinning with BPD diagnostic criteria #9: transient, stress-related paranoid ideation.
Here is a glimpse:
The room is spinning, even as I grip the keyboard for stability, and everything around me is an obscure version of itself.
Last night I had dreams about spiders and all this morning its felt like they are crawling in my veins.
My face is a brief and false advertisement.
I'd like to pour myself the stiffest drink my stomach can stand and lay on my back and feel like a good tired Catholic. Because its not even 9am.
And all I want is for my future husband to lean over me and look me dead in the eye and say 'the fact that you're insane only proves that you're my best friend'.

I seem to be unravelling in time to the music.


current mood: tangled
current music: bright eyes - the calendar hung itself

pour like water, over me

Brace yourself for the impact: I've been dating.

That's right.
But its not because any of the boys in this city finally grew enough balls to begin approaching girls, and I'm therefore on the receiving end of genuine flirtation. No, it is much more imposed than that. After months of fighting back the loneliness, and after sitting through several convincing monologues by web-savvy gal pals, I decided to give online dating its fair shot.
The result has been a handful of responses and sporadic 'dates'. Nothing too significant yet, but I must admit that after years of being ignored by boys in public, the attention (even via internet) feels good and has contributed to a slight lift in my self- esteem.

Other than that, I've been quite frazzled by school.

Under the tutelage of a dynamic and connected teacher, the Hay Cake has developed into an entire project, now titled "I Can't Have That", with different 'manifestations': the cake itself, a performance art piece I completed just this Tuesday (do you want more detail on that? lemme know), a slide show installation and a few photographs. My teacher's enthusiasm for my idea and its cathartic concept has fueled a fire, and as a result, I've been working hard at it. A film crew showed up at my studio at school to film me working on the idea, and then a taped interview where you best believe I cried on camera and they thought it was brilliant.

My clay tree is coming along, but once more in the kiln resulted in some breakage that was too sad to photograph and post here.

I've a piece titled "Mother May I" at California Conference for the Advancement of Ceramic Arts. Which means I spent the day today driving my piece up to Davis to install it in AAU's designated log cabin. Of course, ceramic SUCKS and my sculpture cracked nearly everywhere and I was forced to hot glue it together. (In art school, it is a giant faux paus to hot glue your piece together. At the very least, you are to use a high-quality epoxy. I, however, did not have the patience or desire.) Needless to say, I was embarrassed and abandoned the piece as soon as it was dry.

I drove home lonely and despondent. Somewhere along the 2-hr drive, past the produce stands, empty fields, and boys named Clint, I stopped for gas in a tiny little town called Dixon. The wind was blowing intensely, but I felt still and strong against it. I didn't want to leave. I lingered. I lingered another hour. Dixon, CA. Who knew.

On the way home I listened to music with violins and it felt appropriate.

I came home to an empty apartment. Again. But waiting for me in my computer were the photos taken from my performance art piece. With smeared makeup, blood running down my fingers only to be mixed with the food coloring staining my hands, and thrashing about on the floor. I felt sick and sad, looking at these images. When I looked in the mirror just now, I noticed the bruises along my arms and hips- evidence of a performance gone right.

Another coughing, shaking fit on the floor of a spinning bathroom.

current mood: sore.

current music: bright eyes - spent on rainy days

art student weekend adventures

A couple of times a year, San Francisco has the brilliant idea to host a phenomenon called "OpenStudios", where self-declared artists collectively open their studios to the public, in hopes of luring in the elite and selling their wares.
What ACTUALLY happens, though, is that a bunch of mediocre-at-best crafters play host to droves of bored hipsters that shuffle in in search of free 2-buck-Chuck and plates of cheese and stale crackers, who engage in idle banter of feigned interests.

Nevertheless, as an art student, it is my scholastically creative duty to attend these masquerades. I went by my lonesome, armed solely with a great outfit and red lipstick, and hoped for the best.

What a grave disappointment. It’s all these little spaces with these so-called artists practically stacked on top of one another and they are all for the most part making crap.

The art was mainly 2-D, and horrible; shallow, contrived, and redundant. I felt pained and depressed.

The only highlight was when I quietly wandered into the space of an older gay painter named Paul, who let me browse inconspicuously but stopped me on my way out his door. He liked my look and is in the middle of a series on alternative models, whose seemingly effortless style actually takes great care to execute: Could he paint me?
I was so humbled, I said yes and gave him my email address.
Later, a photographer 'artist' said I had interesting eyes and asked me to pose for her. A couple flashes later, I left.

On the way home I took my sad little self to the movies to see Meet Monica Velour. I had been looking forward to it and it did not disappoint. I drank a giant diet coke and felt a little better.

Lesson? When all else fails, turn to limited-release indie films about aging porn stars.


current mood: cynical
current music: arcade fire - rococo

vacancy

I believe its been quite some time since I last posted. I've been working away, attempting to adjust to the changes in my life.
I quit my crafting studio job after my pre-teen 'boss' pulled me into the back office to yell at me for some ancient crime that never existed. And so I've begun working for the couple whose wedding I coordinated. It seems I am their "Personal/Admin Assistant". I spent the past week crafting and planning a baby shower I wasn't even invited to. Weird. We'll see where this goes. But they're cool kids and they've strong connections in Portland, which is where I see myself in two years, post- graduation.

I've begun work on a new clay piece. It's a 2-foot-tall dying tree. Instead of fruit, it will bear tiny hearts with text on them. Here's a picture of the raw clay form, before its even fired.

Other than that, I don't have a lot to say. I'm feeling vacant.

I've beautiful friends that make lovely appointments to grace me with their presence. School is going well and I've been asked to participate in a clay art show at UC Davis. My Art has never been more validated, and the creativity is easily accessed these days.

But my loneliness is palpable. It surrounds me like a stiff atmosphere, making it hard to breathe. I look around at the deserted wasteland that is my love life, and it feels like my insides are choking on themselves.

I'm so ready to meet The One, to be in Love. Where is he? And would he love me? I'm not the most stable of gals, and I have secrets that would drive away the bravest of men.

I can only sigh and hope I don't end up with a houseful of cats and doilies.

current mood: lonely

current music: the constantines - you are a conductor

hayhayhay

 

So, I've not told you guys specifically about one of my classes. Mainly because its meant so much to me so far, that I would be heartbroken, devastated, and embarrassed if it didn't end up working out. BUT IT DID, so now I can openly share the project with you.

Here's what I'm talking about:

Site Specific Public Art Installation

I've been trying to get into this class for a couple of semesters already, and each time the class was either 'not offered in the fall' or 'cancelled for the semester'.

 At last, this semester was my chance! The "site" that offered itself to us as inspiration was th San Francisco Zoo. I was ambivalent about it at first, feeling more excited to be taking the class than bonding with and being inspired by zoo animals.

But it turns out the SF Zoo has a "Children's Zoo", which features its own little "Family Farm"! If I've not expressed it enough on this here blog, I'll say it again: it is my dream to move to Portland and live on a farm, with a dozen or so chickens, a few goats, and a vegetable garden. This Family Farm was a rural oasis for me! I fell in love with the goats there, who are just as friendly but far less invasive than dogs. The pigs they've there are adorable, the donkeys are sweethearts, and the sheep are charismatic. 

I knew I wanted to spend as much time there as possible, but I didn't have any ideas for any installations. How could I be so in love but not inspired? Oh it broke my heart as I listened to my classmates pitch their highly conceptual ideas to our teacher, while I stared blankly at him and said "I only know I love the goats". He encouraged me to listen to and follow my heart. Well-versed in this practice, in one hour, I HAD IT: I wanted to make a giant 4-ft tall cake out of hay for these goats! 

My friend Ginelle said: "Oh its like you're trying to address the wedding cake you never had."

I immediately broke down in tears, in front of her, the teacher, the class, everyone.

My teacher looked at me and said: "This means you HAVE to do it."

Well I developed the idea further, made my presentation board, and just this past Friday, we stood up in front of a SFZoo committee and pitched our ideas. I was nervous, my BPD acted up, and all I remember is a blurry view of this panel of judges. 

Well guess what? THEY SAID YES. And not only that, but they want to make it coincide with their big sheep-shearing event in May- the one that's in the NEWSPAPER and on TV. I couldn't believe it. I was blown away, I was humbled, I was dizzy. I texted nearly everyone I knew!

It means so much to me to be able to continue to hang out on this farm, play with the goats, smell and work with the hay. Maybe it makes me a weirdo, but I'm a happy weirdo, so THERE.

current mood: happy weirdo.

current music: the whites - keep on the sunny side