Moving is like totally THA BEST no just kidding my hand must have slipped what I meat to type was THA PITS!
Phew. Okay. Will use punctuation from now on.
Well, y'all, this is just a (possibly redundant) post to offer some observations about three things:
1. The art/life balance
DOES NOT EXIST. As in, the balance doesn't exist. If you know anyone who does actually balance art and life perfectly in a lovely, 50-50, happily bobbing little scale, please introduce them to me. What we should really be talking about is, on any given day, the status of the art/life all-out war. Maybe I'll start a tally board. In fact, I think that's a really good idea. When life starts racking up too many points, art gets to go crazy for a few days.
2. Wemynhood
Yeah, bitches, I spelled it all feminist-crazy-like. This is actually a bit of a subset of number one. Just an observation that us laydeez tend to, how you say, majorly suck at prioritizing art over life. Especially now, in the process of moving, I find myself obsessing over THA STUPIDEST things. How oh how am I going to organize my spices? Where oh where will my hamper go? Um. Hello. Self. No one cares. If you were a dude, you would stick the spices in a cabinet and the hamper on the floor, and have approximately one million more minutes to spend on art.
3. Cash Money
Us modern artist folk need to figure out what our time is really worth. As I return to the land of applying for temp jobs after three blissful years of living pretty much completely on school stipends or yap paychecks, I am tempted to take on as many hours as anyone will give me. But there is not necessarily a direct relationship between cash money and value. Time, when I use it on art, does have a monetary value. It's an unknowable value, and one that only exists in the future, but it's one I need to rely on. Which, of course, sounds completely insane.
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