angela_n_hunt: (Me 2014)
A long time ago, some shit went down and I won't go into details, because frankly, the details bore me and more than likely would bore you too. But the situation is fresh in my mind. It's about how things end, and i find myself sitting with a shit ton of anger today which is, of course, triggering my panic disorder into all sorts of fun things.

Not.

Sometimes, endings aren't always good ones. Sometimes things end with tears and a voyage, or in this case, recrimations and betrayal, rather than smiles and a wedding. The World is going through a convulsive upheaval, and many things are Ending, while others are Beginning. And this time, it's ending with a lot of anger and tears.

What a time to be alive, eh?

But all the things that used to terrify me? I find that right now, they do nothing more than make me laugh in a way that says maybe I should start shopping for that gingerbread house sooner than later. Mer calls it being a feminist monstrosity, a member of the Harpy Corps.

I call it being the Devil.

The Devil really gets a bad rap if you think about it. Totally set up and gaslit by his deity and then thrown in perdition as a warning to anyone else who might think about holding to their highest truth and honor, defying contradictory Law.  Except...that really hasn't worked, has it?

We're living in a world right now where people who call themselves onstensibly Christian spout hate and violence, and the people volunteering to protect the innocent and the weak are the fucking Church of Satan. Let that sink in. The motherfucking Church of SATAN. How the hell did that happen? I swear, it's like we're all through the fucking looking glass and no one knows the way out except a few of us who know the only way to win is to go forward and move your pieces across the chessboard. There's no going back. There's only forward. Trying to go back is what got us here. Trying to appease people who had no intention of ever being appeased and who are so empty that nothing will ever be enough to fill that void. Not the power, not the money, not the fame, not the adulation of being told how wonderful they are, not any of it.

So I find myself with a great deal of sympathy for the Devil and wondering why it's such a bad thing to be considered one. Right now, He's the only one standing up for some of us. If that makes me evil, so be it. In fact, fuck yeah. I've always wanted to be officially evil. I hear we get jackets.

Because being "nice" hasn't worked. Playing by the rules when the opposition has thrown out the rule book hasn't fucking worked. Being authentic and true to yourself, that kinda does, or so far seems to. The other will kill you. It certainly came damn close to killing me. I stopped being the Witch there for a couple of years. The one who's not good, who's not nice, who's just right. Right for herself, not anyone else.

Why is it wrong to want justice? To want others to suffer the way that you have? To understand at a visceral level the hell that you've been through? I'm not a good person. I'm not about rising above it all. Some people need to be put down like dogs and opposed with every fiber of your being. There are absolutes in the world. Not a whole fucking lot of them, but they do exist, and sometimes the right thing to do is so fucking obvious and in your face, I don't know how you fucking miss it.

But people do.

And if you bring it up...

You're the Devil.

You're the Devil for demanding that people own their shit and look at the truth of who they are, whatever that truth may be, good or bad. No cherry picking the attributes that we want others to admire in us, but all of them. For instance, I am routinely petty, spiteful, and fucking vengeful. They're all pretty serious failings.

And I'm totally okay with that. I'm fucking human. Sometimes the world needs pettiness, spite, and vengeance. Especially vengeance. I'm good with vengeance.

What I'm not good with is people telling me there's nothing we can do and to just fucking give up. Civilisation is over, blah, blah, blah.

And people call me depressed.

Fuck you.

I didn't come here to fucking give up. If you're not making your corner of the world a better place, you're doing has been worthless. Call it Anji's Corollary to Schroeinger's Law.

Screw you. I want a better world. Me and Jenny Sparks.

And if that means being the Devil?

So fucking mote it fucking be.

Thor's Day

Feb. 19th, 2009 08:54 am
angela_n_hunt: (Default)
So. Some conversations you can't help but overhear. Especially when people insist on having them right by your desk.

Sigh.

WTF? You say you want stability, but when an applicant shows up and says they're looking for long term, you freak out and insist you can't promise that because the economy is shit? If she'd said she was a wait and see and go with the flow type, you'd say she was a damn job hopper with no commitment!

The fuck?

I really hate that shit. Frikken' weathervane, because flat out, some people just never want to like anything. Ever.

Meh.

* * *

So.

Antibiotics are working very well, and sinuses are finally draining in a productive, if gross, way.

I am, unfortunately and however, feeling somewhat lost.

I was on the freeway driving home last night, feeling like a faceless extra in a Michael Mann or David Mamet film. River of cars ahead of me, nothing but red taillights in the failing orange sunset light, palm trees like some sterile version of the postcards tourists send from this town, black against the sky. And for a moment, I wondered how the hell I got there. Working downtown. Working the dayjob. Financial nutjob bullshit going on. Tired and unhappy.

I know and I don't.

I never set out to become a career exec admin. It's rather freakish to me that I am as damn good at it as I am. There are aspects of it that I enjoy, but there's the rest that makes me want to murder.

This isn't the life I planned or imagined when I was younger. This was always something I was going to do while making my art my full time job. And fuck, in the meantime has turned into 21, going on 22 years.

Ick.

This is not optimal.

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this. As I said, I'm feeling lost. It's not like I don't do work towards my art. I submit to shows. I write. I paint. I send the work out. I don't sit on it in a drawer and wonder why I haven't been discovered. Sometimes I feel like the proverbial bad penny who has the worst luck, except that I've had some phenomenal luck and the pictures to prove it. Standing in Piccadilly Square. Sitting in Les Tuillieries. Bad art in Stuttgart. Fashion and espresso in Milano. Topless on a beach in Nice. Black sand in Maui. Photographing statues of Godzilla in Tokyo. And of course and most recent, freezing my ass off in Florence in the name of art and networking.

It hasn't been a bad life by a long chalk. In fact, it's been damn amazing.

But moments like last night seem to bury the memories.

Thank the gods that I'm a photographer. An artist, period. I have pictures and words to save me at times like these. And friends. Very, very good friends.

But shit, I like watching the occasional Mamet/Mann film. I sure as shit don't like feeling like I'm living in one.
angela_n_hunt: (Default)
I have friends
Family that love me
Holds me close
And how to let me be
But the day
Keeps me from them
Pulls an isolation
That is hard to stand
Not the peace
Of a monastery
But the stranged
Stone in a lee
Cut off from all
People around but
No connection
No luck
Alone, but not
Worse than castaway
Because it is intentional
The way they look away
It is not a way to live
This modern world
It just leaves me cold
This modern world


copyright 2008 Angela N. Hunt

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