How Bouts a Picture?

I tried to build a brand to trend, but it's about as stale as... well, month-old bread. I decided instead to focus on a business card that reflects what I actually like to do.

I write in my own style. I draw in my own style.

So why should I brand any other way?

I've been working on this one as a possible business card design. There may be quite a bit of fidgeting with fonts and image placement to come, but I rather like her for it.

I have a bit of fussing to do with it yet, but she embodies my work both as an artist and my interest in sci-fi infused fantasy themes. And let's face it, I tend to enjoy drawing women more. I don't hate drawing men at all--there's just that easy connection being in a female body myself. I might spit on enforcing any sort of gender roles, but I'm not in denial that I'm a female. (Also adding that men and women do tend to be better suited or more interested in certain roles and jobs, but anyone who has competitive skill levels NOT common to gendered stereotypes should kick some ass doing it.)

It's not the artist's job to be safe. If you want to work with a passionate artist, they're likely to drive you nuts from time to time. If you want to work with a safe artist, they're not likely to stand out for their clients or their customers. Because of that, I did a disservice to myself before by toeing the line. Every time I've followed my gut, I've found my best clientele, fans, and even better, friends.

I've taken an odd assortment of jobs, but rather than going the true temp worker route, I've found freedom in choice and risk. However, I am not that picky nor prone to danger. I do believe in humbling myself into choices I'm both not thrilled about yet still connecting to my goals. I've shed the bullshit tacts that baby-boomers swore by and adapted to the challenges that plague my own generation.

And now I look forward to MY future. The one where I stop listening to safe and keep listening to my instinct. Where I am accountable to my own choices and feel the full brunt of my mistakes, turning them into priceless lessons to push ahead.

Oh, and as my last blog post said, XP-Pen Artist 12 digital display tablet review ahead so stay tuned!

Feeling Good When Feeling Bad

I've mentioned a dear friend of mine that suddenly and tragically passed away of a heart attack at the young age of 43. Much like my aunt Shari and Uncle Mike, it's just too damned young. When my friend, Fermín, was still alive, a few mutual friends and myself went over his apartment one night to feast on empanadas and drink terremotos. The conversation of selfie obsession came up, as well as my apparent lack of enthusiasm. I quickly corrected them. I have a huge library of Photo Booth shots on my iMac where I snap a mixture of flattering poses and funny faces. I just don't share.

It's then that Fermín mentioned I rarely change my profile picture. I shrugged it off. Not much changes about me. My hair is pretty consistently red or growing back into its natural non-color, long or short it's rarely brushed. I wear pajamas because most clothes are uncomfortable and dressing up makes me self-conscious. I have a ridiculous amount of makeup for someone who usually goes without. But he said something to me then that made me look at myself differently. It's not about making sure people know what I look like. It's not about vanity. It's about self-care. It's about embracing change, a small milestone. 

I have the same exact face I had two decades ago. My nose is a little larger, my skin a little clearer, my forehead has a couple wrinkles. Most people don't even notice. Yet there are some things I notice when I look through them. I clearly favor a yellow hoodie. I often smirk rather than smile. Sometimes I look like my mother. I often remember where I was in life with each one.

Yesterday, I didn't feel so well. I was lying on my bed in wrinkled pajamas, my hair unbrushed, no makeup. I'm congested and my jaw is still sore, so a camera was the last thing I needed in my life. Yet in the dim warm light of my room, I switched my tablet to camera mode and snapped a few pictures.

No matter that these days I feel old and weak in my vulnerability. Yet in that picture, time vanished. I saw the same face of two decades past, not older, not weaker. I saw confidence and stoicism and acceptance. The shadows under my eyes weren't there and I didn't look sick or swollen. Just me. Just like thay, my doubts were soothed away.

No matter how I feel, I pick a day every few months when I remember to change my profile picture. I ignore what I'm feeling and take a few selfies, pick one that defines me best. To remind myself, in such a small way, that it's okay to feel good even when I'm feeling bad. It's why I took a picture of myself crying after my mom died. I wanted to see that, no matter how broken I felt, I was still quite whole.

The pieces fall where they will. I have some power to change my life but sometimes things just happen to you. When things just happen, I push back. I do some small symbolic thing to remember to hold myself down. 

To shift it into creativity, sometimes my stories escape me. I don't get what I'm doing, I'm not sure I believe in how it's turning out. Then I take control. I snapshot it and give it a good look. I love what I do, what I am. I love being wrong when I think I'll screw something up. I love being wrong even when it doesn't turn out right. 

And when I forget, I make it a point in self-care to remind myself. When the pain of the past digs in, I anchor myself in the present. And sometimes, the deep dark rifts in the present become superficial cracks in the big picture. 

But I have to take those pictures. Even when they're grainy, poorly lit and unplanned. Because if I'm going to be insecure, I want to know that face is exactly like all the others. Then I'll wrinkle my nose, stick out my tongue and take a few more.