Category Archives: Mental Bullshit

Conversations With A Brain, episode 3

You need to write something for the blog.

I can’t.

Why not?

I’m afraid. Nothing I write will be good enough to make up for the huge gap since I last updated it. The last post was about vaginas, for chrissake. How can I top that?

That’s kind of the point. Now that you’re back in the art game, anyone who visits the website will see the vaginismus posts first thing. There needs to be some kind of craft-related post to act as a buffer.

But people LIKED those essays! They got more response than almost anything else I’ve written.

You need to look professional to prospective customers. That means writing something new so your top post has a recent date on it. You need people to think you’re not some flake who abandoned her website for months.

That wasn’t my fault. You know that 2018 sent more shit my way than I could handle. I was perfectly justified in taking some time off.

Whatever you need to tell yourself. Just fucking write something, already!

Okay, fine. How about a piece on my health bullshit—kind of an explanation of my absence?

No one cares.

Maybe something about the new stuff I’ve got for sale at the Corvallis Art Center?

You didn’t take pictures of the jewelry before you delivered it. No one will go there without knowing exactly what your work looks like. And we both know you don’t have the guts to take photographs at the Art Center.

A review of art products?

No one wants your opinion. 

Howzabout a description of my cat’s antics? Everyone likes cats.

Please tell me you’re joking.

I don’t know what you want from me. You insist that the blog needs an update, but you shoot down every idea I have.

This piece has to be PERFECT. It needs to be impressive. It needs pictures, graphics, witty anecdotes, exciting subjects… You need to make up for your absence, remember?

It doesn’t matter WHAT I write, it just needs to be written. No one expects me to be brilliant every single post.

I DO.

If you wanted perfection, you should have been someone else’s brain.

I will torment you endlessly until you write something that’s up to my standards. Your nightmares will drown you in visions of your failures. I’ll make you too anxious to leave the house. I’ll send you to the depths of despair. Your sobs will echo through your cold and empty soul. Yea, the very heavens will quake with my wrath!

Now you’re just throwing a tantrum.

Do my bidding or suffer the consequences. 

You know what? I’m going to post this conversation. That will teach you to threaten me.

Nooooooo! Spite, my only weakness!

That’s right, bitch. I know your kryptonite. 

You haven’t heard the last of this.

I know. But for now…I win.

Conversations with a Broken Brain, episode 2

Hey.

What?

I just remembered the lyrics to that song you were humming earlier.

That’s nice. Now shut up.

No need to be rude.

It’s four in the fucking morning. I feel like this revelation could have waited until my alarm went off.

I’m just trying to help.

Right. Great. Thanks. Now GO TO SLEEP.

Remember the time you wet your pants at school? Let me play that scene for you in vivid detail.

No.

Here it is from another angle.

Please no.

I bet you can feel the humiliation even now. The white-hot embarrassment creeping up your spine, the tears struggling to escape your closed eyes, the feeling that everyone in the world is staring at you…

Stop it!

Okay, fine. Let’s change the subject.

Please just let me sleep. Please.

EVERYONE IS DEAD.

What? No they’re not!

Well, if they’re not dead, they will be someday, including everyone who cares about you. Maybe even tomorrow. How would that make you feel?

Stop.

Maybe they’ll get hit by trucks. Maybe they’ll be poisoned. Maybe murderers are breaking into their house this very second. Maybe you’ll wake up and be all alone. Forever. 

Stop…please…

And it will be your fault, because you fell asleep. The only way to keep everyone alive until morning is to stay awake picturing them living another day. And you can’t let your concentration slip for even a moment, or they’ll die. Horribly. Cursing your name.

That’s almost certainly not true.

Yes, it is.

No, it can’t be.

Yes, it–

SHUT UP! I have shit to do in the morning! If you don’t knock it off, I swear I’ll stick you in a blender on the “puree” setting and have a brain smoothie for breakfast.

Okay, jeez. I’ll let you sleep.

Thank you.

Sweet dreams.

Good night.

Hey, what if there are spiders in here?

I hate you so much.

 

Conversations with a Broken Brain, episode 1

 

What are you doing?

I’m working on this bracelet, obviously.

It sucks.

No. No it doesn’t. Also: Fuck you.

Seriously, it sucks. You’re incompetent. I can see three flaws and you’re not even halfway done.

Those aren’t flaws, I just changed the pattern slightly. I think the design is more cohesive this way.

You must be joking. Messing up patterns? Thinking you can modify designs and it won’t end in disaster? You’re not even a real artist.

Yes I am!

Um, no. You’re just a n00b with delusions of grandeur. How many pieces have you sold on Etsy? How many galleries display your work? Does anyone not related to you read your blog?

That’s not what makes an artist. A “real” artist is someone who makes art. Period.

Hiding behind inspirational quotes, I see. I assume you got that one off a bumper sticker.

Actually, I have heard it from many artists I admire. Besides, success takes time. I’m not going to improve if you make me give up.

Being a REAL artist requires more talent and hard work than you’re capable of.

That’s not true…is it?

You think other artists spend this much time arguing with themselves? Your production rate is abysmal. Furthermore, everyone else’s art is much better than yours. Everyone’s.

…Even if that was true, it wouldn’t matter. I’m still an artist.

Fine, you’re technically an artist. But you’re trying to make this a legit business. Who the hell do you think you are, thinking anyone wants to buy your shit? There are a lot of unsuccessful artists out there who are way more talented than you. It’s arrogant to think YOU have a shot.

I’m talented. I think.

You know who doubts themselves? Losers.

Okay, I KNOW that’s not true. Everyone has doubts sometimes.

Other people’s doubts are unfounded fears. Yours are a reality check from your gut feelings.

No.

Just accept that you’re worthless and give up.

No!

You’re a waste of space and so is your art.

…No.

Yes, it—

SHUT UP! You’re wrong. I know you’re wrong. You won’t win this time. I. Am. An. Artist. Moreover, I’m a good artist.

Sure you are.

Don’t I take medication to keep you from talking this way to me?

You can’t turn off the truth.

IT’S NOT TRUE, DAMMIT! I am done with this pointless argument. You won’t stop me from creating. I am finishing this bracelet, and I’m going to sell it, and it will make someone happy, and you can just go fuck yourself.

Whatever you say, O Delusional One.

I hate you.

I am you.

I know.