A journey to San Francisco to become no less than Me. (BLOG REBOOT: Former site of Hairy Legs.)


Just read The Primal Blueprint.  It inspired me to go out and buy a lot of fruits and veggies and meat and nuts and essentially assemble a hunter/gatherer-esque diet.  I just threw caution to the wind and spent 100 bucks of my food stamps on these.  I hope to god most of this food gets me through the end of the month.  It probably won’t. 

BUT I figured, if I trusted in fate to get me through, went on ahead and treated my body well by feeding it the right things, then maybe it’ll reward me by not needing as much food in the long run and this WILL get me through.  OR because it’s a lot of fruit and veg, it’ll all rot and wither in a week and I’ll be shit out of luck.  Either way, I’m not that worried because there’s always food banks and stuff.  I got through before I had food stamps, right? 

I’ve been trying to follow my impulses more closely these days, especially the ones that tell me to do positive things, rather than overthinking everything like I normally do and letting my inhibitions control everything.  I’ve been on the verge of a huge personal breakthrough and I think this is part of it.

A huge part has to do with my creative expression.  I’ve been journalling and drawing every day in my sketch book lately, which might not sound too groundbreaking to you, but it’s been months since I’ve been able to write at will, and years since it was easy to draw.  And I think I’m finally getting the picture as far as what’s been holding me back.  There’s something about drawing that’s been making it seem so much bigger and scarier and more important than applying pigment to a paper, for so long.  I think I’m starting to crack the code.

The thing about art is that it’s an impulsive act.  It follows where logic dares not tread and appeals to emotion and aesthetics rather than function.  At its leisurely form, as in a hobby, it isn’t something one does for survival, and it takes a special kind of person to become prolific enough to turn it for a profit. 

For so long, ever since I was a child, I’ve been forced to follow my inhibitions to survival rather than my impulses.  It’s why I dissociated- my impulses told me one thing, and my mother told me something else.  My mind told me I was male and she beat me until I was female.  My instincts gave me a series of actions, and the religion of my parents gave me a series of guidelines, telling me those primal instincts were wrong.  I went so long believing that the only way to live was by trusting restrictions placed on me from the outside rather than what I knew on the inside.  Whenever some kind of stressor arose, my fight-or-flight would kick in with something to nuke my natural impulses as a general mode of operation, and that became so commonplace I would barely even see that function happening.  EVERYTHING is accompanied with overthinking and it happens so fast that it becomes second nature.

I’ve spent this last week trying to figure out what I naturally am, on the inside, without exterior influence.  I’ve been following what I want to do without overthinking things so much in hopes of uncovering a portrait of what I look like without the mask.  And of course, I’ve been following the impulse to draw more, at least 30% of the time.  What I’ve been discovering is that the impulse to draw and paint and so forth comes far more often than I thought it did, but when there’s no “survival” related motivation behind it, i.e., no class grade to work towards, or money to earn, it becomes something I can push to the back burner because it’s a “waste of time”, which is paradoxical because often I spend that time I could be using to draw doing something of even less value, like fucking around online.  (Journalling doesn’t count.) 😛


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