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green-spear-of-causality · 4 years

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“You’re overthinking– I’m yours. That’s all I want to be.” and none other than Cu Chulainn

//Because I'm a really big dumbass, this is long overdue. @coldpalaceee, I'm sorry if this isn't as good as it deserves to be...I am loving these prompts, and I hope I haven't deterred you from requesting more! (...God I work slow - )

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I'm overreacting.

...Well, that wasn't new, was it? You had always been shy, and awkward, and clumsy, and just so many things you knew you weren't good at or lacked.

The fact that you knew you were overreacting made it ten times worse.

You stared at your boyfriend, the one and only Cú Chulainn, who was making small talk with the (pretty attractive) waiter as you both waited for your meals. You weren't at a fancy restaurant, no; your poor heart couldn't take the stifling formality that came with going to fancy places.

You tended to avoid them like the plague.

So, once you brought it up that you wanted to go somewhere with Cú that wasn't a fancy place, he patted your head and gave you a sun-filled grin that temporarily made your anxiety dissipate. He was always good with that, the comfort; it was like he knew exactly what to do when you clammed up or started to get lost in your own thoughts, resulting in you making more mistakes on whatever you were doing.

You both decided to go to an out-of-the-way cafe, the very same one where you two first met.

He had done so much for you already. Time and time again, he went out of his way to make you comfortable. You honestly wondered why he even wanted to hang around you, much less date you.

So, you presented the idea of this particular outing to him as a treat.

You were supposed to be the one making him feel good. You were supposed to be the one to make him feel comfortable.

He's been talking to this waiter for five minutes... Your gaze became downcast, eyes boring holes into the menu in front of you. You could hear the waiter laugh at a particular joke, one you recognized Cú telling you not even a week ago.

Despite the swirling unease in your stomach, you slightly smiled. Cú always had a tendency to tell other people stuff he learned with excitement that could affect even the most depressed person. He's like a puppy; it's...cute.

Not that you'd ever call him a puppy to his face.

" -ight, (Y/N)?"

"H-Huh?" Your gaze snapped back up to Cú, who was waiting for an answer. You scratched the back of your head, sheepish. "Sorry...what did you say?"

He gave you an odd look, repeating his question. "I said that this cafe is always a treat to go back to, right?"

You blinked, answering with a question of your own. "Was-...Was that supposed to be a pun?"

Now it was Cú's turn to blink, pondering for a fee moments. He then chuckled, the light sound making you smile as butterflies danced in your stomach. "I guess it was! I mean, the sweets here are incredible."

His eyes searched around the cafe, and your traitorous mind whispered that he was waiting for that extroverted waiter to come back, because unlike you they could keep a steady conversation with him without tripping over their own words like the failure they are -

"(Y/N)."

You returned your focus to Cú at his tone, a small frown on your face. The odd look was back on his face as crimson orbs scrutinized you. "What's wrong?"

You tensed. "Wh- ...Uh, nothing's wr- "

"Don't lie to me, (Y/N)." The intensity of his stare was still there, but now some exasperation was mixed into it. "You always occupy your hands with something when there's something on your mind."

Sure enough, you looked down to see that you were playing with the strings of your black hoodie. You had chosen dull colors so that you didn't stand out, while Cú wore a yellow sweatshirt and light blue jeans that you, admittedly, was better than the eye-damaging but endearing Hawaiian shirt he always had on hand; he stood out, and you blended in.

You wanted to scream. No! This was supposed to be the outing where you looked after Cú and coddled him, reassuring him with soft words and hand holding and so much more -

But you messed it up, like always, and he should honestly just dump your stupid ass already.

"O-Oi, I didn't mean to make you upset by that!" Cú had searched for a way to reassure you, since you looked tense enough to simply break at the slightest misstep. "It's just...I want to know what you're thinking, that's all. What's up?"

Your mind raced a mile a minute. Okay, you were definitely overreacting, but you couldn't stop yourself from spiralling further. Your mouth decided to betray you by blurting out, "Why are you even here?"

Ouch. You scrambled for a remedy, but it was too late. You watched a flicker of hurt cross his face before the confusion set in, and at this point you were mortified.

"I-I mean - !" You spoke frantically, frustrated with yourself. Why did you say it like that? Of course he got the wrong idea! Your hands balled into fists, pausing their motions.

Everything was falling apart, and it was because you couldn't muster up even a scrap of courage to tell him properly.

"I phrased that wrong. Oh god, I didn't - I didn't mean - "

"(Y/N)." You looked up. Cú gave an exasperated huff, but he was smiling. "Seriously, it's cool. I understand; just chill out for a sec, and tell me when you're ready."

"Why?!"

Your second outburst shocked him. He opened his mouth to continue, but you weren't waiting for a response; you figured hey, may as well drive the stake in further.

"Cú, you're so...vibrant. You're vibrant, understanding, way smarter than Gilgamesh gives you credit for, exuberant, witty, confident, encouraging, endearing, and just...so much more. Looking at you is like looking at a literal miniature sun, because you stand out and despite the odds being stacked against you, you somehow manage to find the silver lining in a bleak situation.

"Meanwhile, I'm...not nearly as amazing. I'm pretty forgettable in a sea of faces, I'm quiet, awkward, clumsy, I make at least seven mistakes each day, insecure, overbearing, bad with words, and I'm nowhere near as confident as you are. I usually bring the mood down, and I have low self-esteem."

Cú really looked like he wanted to say something, but was restraining himself. You continued, not seeming to notice his struggle.

"Seeing you talk to the waiter from before made me realize that I...I could never be as good as you. Well, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't know why you're dating me when there's other people like the waiter who could easily hold a conversation with you. There's so many wonderful people out there who would be better, and I always screw things up and cause you more trouble than you need since you always have so much on your plate already - "

"I chose you."

"Hah?" You stopped, gaze snapping back up to meet his. Cú's eyes were narrowed, his mouth a thin line as he glared.

You swallowed. Did...Did you just piss off the Cú Chulainn?

"I chose you." He repeated. "You, and no one else. Honestly, (Y/N), what am I going to do with you?"

You closed your mouth, a pained expression quickly making itself known on your face. Yet again, you made him comfort you instead of the other way around -

"Since you don't see what I do, I'm gonna have to pound it into that pretty little head of yours." Pink dusted across your cheeks as his irritated expression gave way to the grin you knew belonged to him and only him. It was sharp and wild, yet filled with so much glee and kindness that you slowly began to unwind your tightly balled hands.

"Yeah, you may be all of those things, but so what?"

"...Huh?" You peered at him, dumbfounded. Didn't...Didn't that just prove your point?

"Nope, it's my turn to talk." Cú held up a hand, and you vaguely registered your food being put in front of you and a "Have a nice day" in favor of listening to your boyfriend.

"If a human didn't have their flaws, then they wouldn't be human, now would they?" He continued. "Which, by the way, I find yours adorable. You're sarcastic and witty once you get enough confidence, mischievous, think more with your brain than rely on instinct, and you have such a big heart that there's no way a sane person could hate you.

"(Y/N), you look around and you see so much more than I think I could ever, and then the most breathtaking look gets into your eye as you appreciate what you're seeing. The best part is that it happens randomly; what I wouldn't look twice at, you take into your hands and go over it with a lot of care. You'd think that you were holding a baby bird with a broken wing from how you hold things. You have bursts of optimism that come and go, and when they do it's hard to even get mad at you.

"Most of all, (Y/N), you...ground me." He scratched his cheek lightly, looking over to the side.

You gaped. Was he...embarrassed? Each compliment had you sinking further in your chair, hands covering your beet red face.

"Yeah, you bring the mood down, but...not in the way you think. Ah, damnit, why is this so hard to say?! ...You're calming, and you help me not get too carried away with whatever the hell I'm doing. Imagining myself without you here is impossible at this point."

"Cú, just -...just stop, goddamnit," You groaned into your hands, wanting nothing more than to melt into a puddle and evaporate. "I-I get it, you love me. But...why the compliments?"

Cú rolled his eyes, leaning over to pry your hands away and giving you a quick but loving peck on your forehead. "Like I said, I had to beat it into your skull somehow. Don't you ever think that you're not worthy, or some dumb bullshit like that. Despite my flirting, I'm a loyal guy; I wouldn't leave you."

You stared at him. "Loyal...like how you were staring at that one couple's asses on the way here."

You didn't even realize that you didn't stutter through that entire sentence. Cú laughed at your retort, at least having some bit of shame to look sheepish. "What? When you see an ass that doesn't lie, you can't help but admire it."

"Cú!" You were laughing at this point too (since he was right - their asses were fine), but you still lightly punched his shoulder from across the table.

He grinned, a twinkle in his eyes. "There's the (Y/N) I know and love."

You spluttered. "Cú Chulainn, I swear if you say one more sappy thing - "

He reached over to hold your hand, making you pause. "Yeah, about earlier? You're overthinking - I'm yours. That's all I want to be."

This time, you were the one to lean over the table (and your untouched food) to kiss him.

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t0sshii · 7 years

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5-10-17

so i decided to write this post because i’ve been having some things on my mind and i haven’t really been able to get them off my chest

ok let’s backtrack to the beginning of college--last year. i really thought once i hit college it would be a fresh start. i can change who i was. because i didn’t like who i was in high school. too quiet. too shy. awkward when not around friends. i wanted to be like one of my childhood friends. she’s my opposite. outgoing. extra-friendly. everyone she meets loves her instantly.. smart. me? pretty forgettable. introverted. if you meet me the first time, chances are i’ll have to reintroduce myself the second time because i was so quiet the first time.

but freshman year was literally one of the loneliest times in my life. sure, it was great in the beginning: i was roommates with one of my friends from high school and wooo i started dating my boyfriend. it was pretty awesome. i thought i was becoming this new and improved person who had fun and went out to do shit my parents would never let me do back home.

i don’t know what changed? my roommate got new friends and suddenly i realized im the same person i was in high school. i’m not blaming her for making friends, though that’s great. i was honestly glad for her she didn’t have just me to hang out with. not gonna lie, i’m pretty boring. but when she introduced me to these new friends, i become very quiet. awkward. extra boring. uncomfortable. and yeah, that was me in high school whenever i wasn’t with my friends. even if i have a friend there, if i don’t know anyone else, i’m like a fish out of water. i don’t know what to say. my roommate became friends with the people around us in the building and it was pretty awesome for her. me? same old same old. no friends other than my roommate, my boyfriend, and my best friend back home. great.

but yeah, felt extremely alone. i talked to literally no one outside of class. i wanted to hang out with people, but i never went out unless i was invited. or spoke unless i was spoken to. but you know. those never happened because no one knew who i was? it was a bad cycle.

and i felt so lonely i cried on my pasta in the cafeteria and had to run to the church and cry by myself.....more than once.

fast forward to spring semester. i don’t know what changed? i started hanging out with our neighbors since they were the same major as me. i had a class with someone who later became one of my close friends. and i feel really bad for this, but i got so excited, i started to spend more time with them than my roommate. distance between us grew and then i found myself being a fish out of water in my own room. did some very regrettable things and i ended my freshman year as someone i didn’t want to be. and i still haven’t talked to my old roommate about what happened? but apparently everything seems fine? we still talk and say hello. but not as close as we were before. i miss her though.

honestly, without her, my boyfriend, and my friend back home i would have cried in church by myself a lot more than i did.

fall semester of sophomore year. yay. new slate. new roommate, had a great conversation with my old one, starting clinicals, group of friends. it’s going to be awesome. it was. i had all of my classes with one of my friends and it was great. we got closer. and i really felt like i was coming out of my shell. my relationship has been great. my coworkers are pretty cool and it’s fun hanging out with them after staff meetings. sure, i liked my alone time. that’s never going to change, but i really felt like i was becoming a person i want to be. i made friends with a few people in my clinical group. laughed a lot. didn’t cry because i was lonely once. i’m very grateful to my friend because she made me comfortable enough to be more myself. end of fall semester, i was definitely happier.

these are just brief summaries so i can get to the present lol

and now this semester. i had clinicals with my friend and my roommate which was awesome. honestly, i wouldn’t be as open without them. i became closer with my roommate too because we had all our classes together. relationship is still awesome (he still makes me happy. butterflies still there. ew gross. ok stop being cheesy). i can say “hi” to a lot more people than i did freshman year that’s for sure.

but i feel like i’m becoming the person i was freshman year again. i’m starting to rely on my roommate, my boyfriend, and my friend back home (who i literally text all times of the day) for my needed doses of human interaction. like night skype with my boyfriend is what i look forward too.

the above things themselves aren’t bad. in fact, they’re great! it’s nice to have supports to fall back on and people who are there for you. and people who love you. and i’m really lucky they’re in my life.

but idk. i feel like i should be hanging out with more people, too? like work more on becoming this super outgoing person that i want to be? but i really just want to stay in bed and do nothing all the fucking time. and it’s so annoying because there’s one part of me that wants to leave and go out and have fun and live like every single day. and then there’s the other part that wants to say no to invites, stay indoors, cuddle my stuffed sloth, lie down, and stay that way. what’s wrong with me haha

but yeah. friends have other friends. but me? still keep within the friend group and work group. sure, i talk to some other people, but it’s like acquaintance talk? i don’t know. i thought i was changing. but i guess i’m not. i don’t really even go out anymore except for fridays with my roommate--which are fun, i look forward to them. she’s a great person to be around and we laugh a lot together.

should be fine right? i have friends at least. i love my roommate. i love my boyfriend. i can’t wait to go home to hang out with my fiends back home. so what’s the problem? why do i still feel lonely sometimes? i shouldn’t. i reaaaallllyyyyy shouldn’t.

i’m becoming a fish out of water again. and it sucks. so much. because someone told me that they wish people got to know me more because i’m actually? pretty? cool? i guess? i wish more people got to know me more too. but clinicals is over and i feel like i’m missing out on my chance for some really good friends in that group because i need years to fucking open up or whatever. i just feel like i’m missing out because i still can’t hold a conversation and i have this tendency to overthink my conversations after they happen.

and i’m scared of having to start all over again with a new group. and this time no friends to use as an anchor. and i know it shouldn’t even be a problem because i’m going to clinicals to learn. still. the anxiety is there.

i just want to be one of those people who smile a lot and can have a conversation with literally anyone and can meet new people and not have to mentally prepare conversations in their head.

none of this made sense my bad. i can’t put my feelings into words really well--still tryna figure out how to describe how i’m feeling? still have more to say so look forward (or not?) to more posts. honestly, i think i just sound like a little baby who makes a big deal out of nothing.

i guess we all go through rough patches. to quote heathers: “if you were happy all the time, you wouldn’t be human. you’d be a gameshow host.”

but yeah. other than that. semester’s been great. HESI got me fucked up though. idk.

i know i don’t really sound happy in this post, but actually am. like in this point in my life i’d rate my happiness like.... 7/10. this stuff is mostly late night thoughts, or back of my mind thinking i try to suppress. like don’t worry about me, guys. other than this stuff i’m fine :)

p.s. i'm very thankful my boyfriend, roommates (old and current), and my friends back home, and friends here for keeping me (somewhat?) sane and laughing. cause i forget negativity when i’m with them.

#meri speaks #i don't know?#i don't know how to sort out feelings #my feelings are a mess and i dont know why?#why am i like this #ugh #frustrating myself #honestly #i'm just trash really

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survivingart · 5 years

Text

PRICING YOUR ART THE RIGHT WAY Part II — Value and Worth

Oscar Wilde once wrote: “A cynic is a man who knows the price of everything but the value of nothing.”

A true artist therefore should be the exact opposite, but not due to ignorance towards the ever-present concept of money; the real truth of the matter is that putting a price tag on an embodiment of love, hate, reminiscence or longing (and all the other messages that art can communicate) just isn’t as easy as adding up ones material and overhead costs and slapping a 20% markup on the sum.

At least not to those that really understand the depths of their own work, because they know that while symbolism allows us to represent temptation by painting apples, temptation itself cannot be sold in the same way as apples.

Because unlike this common tree fruit, temptation cannot be grown, packaged and distributed (even though the media will tell you otherwise). True temptation, unlike her watered-down cousin, lack of self-control, does not come in chocolate or vanilla flavours, it does not make you giggle and say: “Oh, I’m bad, but I’ll have another piece.”

True temptation destroys kingdoms, not waistlines — something corporations still haven’t figured out how to manufacture on an assembly line (or perhaps just decided not to do). But it’s exactly what the best of us are doing, and people like us have been doing since before the Dutch invented oil paints.

We create altars to truth, to the essence of what makes us human, and just as there is no universal truth to speak of, there are no all-in-one solutions of valuing it. But there are intimate, personal ways with which verities are created and in today’s blunder I would like to explore them and try to shine a bit of light upon the convolution that is added value in art.

As its name implies, it is a form of worth that is added, not inherent to the object, and because our time is defined by value as no other time ever was, all of us know that added value is present in all human creation, not just in art.

From bread loaves to trousers; because of the abundance of stuff that is floating around us, the value proposition or the amount and type of added value that any one product has, has become the defining factor by which people decide to either spend their hard-earned money or keep it in the bank.

Back in the day — by which I mean mid nineteenth century Europe and before — this wasn’t the norm. When Zara and H&M didn’t exist and a clean pair of un-tattered cotton trousers was more of a luxury item than a commodity for many people, you could make trousers for everyone because added value hadn’t been invented yet.

Of course you had to measure your customers, so that they’d actually fit the person, but the question of: “Do you maybe have these in salmon red?” had absolutely no chance of existing. Not because the idea of red trousers was too abstract for people to get back then, but because the demand for “trousers” was far from being met.

There were no electric sewing machines and fabric was hard to come by. It was only after many technological advancements and the continued outsourcing of child labour into places, where labour laws could not reach, that the idea of “trousers” became a commodity. And by doing so, the ideas of “red trousers” and “blue trousers” and soon “light khaki skinny-fit jeans” replaced “trousers” as the only available option.

Every time a quicker, cheaper, or better way of producing something (the same goes for service) is invented, the thing being produced slips a bit more into the oblivion of commodities — making it possible for more and more people to be able to afford it and consequently producing a need for more sophisticated versions of that particular product for those who already had the means of buying it in the first place.

And while there are no real technological advances in painting (at least not compared to bio tech or computers) the basic ideas of supply and demand are the same.

Art in its core is the polar opposite of what the idea of commodification is to trousers — though print-on-demand services and the overflow of uneducated artists painting pretty flower pictures have taken their toll on the market.

Because, while any other form of creation is roughly limited by the means of production on one side and the specific tastes and capital of the consumers on the other, paintings don’t behave like trousers or laptops. Because no work of art is the same as the other, scarcity is next to infinite (well, it’s precisely one, if we’re not counting editions).

This is the first and most important added value that a work of art has — scarcity. While philosophically one could even argue that it might actually be the only human creation that has inherent added value (I’m not, because I don’t believe this to be true), scarcity defines art unlike any other trait it might possess.

In any art economics book (and there sadly still aren’t that many), you can find at least one long paragraph that glorifies art as the ultimate product; one can have a bunch of villas, a dozen yachts and hundreds of beautiful old cars, but lose all interest and excitement about them eventually, because it’s not that hard to add one more into the collection.

Vintage wine, like all the “good” things in the world, tastes the best when we first try it, then it slowly but surely slips into the oblivion of commodity. The only real thrill then is to own a Salvator Mundi, Picasso’s Boy with pipe or Pollock’s No. 5, because there exists (and ever will exist) only one of each in the world. The one we have. The one others cannot possess.

But scarcity has to arise from somewhere, because nobody just wakes up with a sudden urge to buy our art. Scarcity needs an ecosystem in which it can exist — it needs demand. But to really understand demand, we have to understand need first, and there’s no better place to go than the nineteen forties, 1943 to be exact, when most of the western world was at war and people’s demands for almost everything were far from being met.

While the zeitgeist of the fifties created many questionable things, it had also sown the seeds for one of the most important scientific papers of our times, titled: “A Theory of Human Motivation”.

Maslow’s paper would become the bedrock of the social sciences for many decades to come, because it stated something groundbreaking; namely that all people share a common hierarchy of needs that follow certain rules and influence our lives as never thought of before.

He found that people do not and cannot experience certain needs — located higher up in the hierarchy — without first satisfying the more basic ones, like hunger, sex and security. Thus he concluded, that without first giving priority to the basic securities of life, like food, water and shelter, we humans are unable to even feel the urge to want something more complex; the need to have a family or the need to be respected in the eyes of our peers for example.

The trick is that demand for art, unlike trousers or bread, isn’t as popular amongst the masses, and we can find a clue as to why in Maslow’s theory: unlike most of our physical needs, that could be described as being a reaction to a certain deficiency — needing sustenance, love, affection, camaraderie, etc. — the need for collecting art comes from abundance and the need to grow.

Be it as a person, a society, a business or a local community; art gives us the tools to express ourselves and to connect, create a common identity and express our power. And if we see it as such, it gives us a much easier time understanding why the majority of people don’t collect art or just don’t give art the same importance in their lives as we do.

They just don’t feel the need for it.

Imagine you’re working two jobs and supporting a family of four; the chaos of having to put food on the table, paying the electricity bill and god forbid a mortgage on the house with less than 100€ in the bank to last you for another two weeks of grocery shopping, while your child is telling you she will be needing a new textbook for next week’s class that costs 50€.

No sane person under such conditions will ever think about how the empty wall space in the kitchen could use a nice still-life with a bunch of flowers or maybe an impressionist seascape in the colours of the living room couch.

Ever.

But on the other side of this equation are the people who are privileged enough to live in abundance; those who strive for power, fame, beauty or morality. Here, in a place of abundance the demand for art has a chance to sprout, but because there’s millions of artists around the world (1,2 million just in the US), it takes a bit more than a vague demographic analysis to find ones fertile soil.

We need a niche. Without it, we’re no more valuable than a no-brand drill bit at the local hardware store; forgettable, replaceable and most likely dull.

Think about it. There are many different companies that sell drills and accessories, all competing for the same customers. Some differences do exist, of course; you have different sizes, varying quality of the bits, their intended purpose — to drill into wood or metal or stone etc. — but apart from the obvious, there is one that is equally important, but resides on the customer side and is quite often overlooked.

Perception.

What I mean by this is that when a person goes to their local hardware store and buys drill bits, do they really go there with the sole intention to own drill bits or do they buy them only because it lets them make a hole in their wall to hang a painting of their dad?

Even then; did they buy drill bits and the painting for the sole reason of owning it, or did they maybe see in the portrait of their father an object that would remind them of what a wonderful person he is? Maybe he recently passed away and the painting means a lot to them? As does the process of commissioning it, receiving it, unpacking, framing, … and especially hanging it.

And in a world full of drill bits, more or less similar in size, quality and defined usage, would a drill company that focuses on evoking a certain emotion in their customer like pride, or a feeling of usefulness or maybe even self-actualisation, not only have an edge over their competition, but provide a lot of value to anyone with such a need?

Imagine your dad was somebody that made you feel like you needed to be useful in your life, like it was your duty as a person to do good and create great things with your hands. To pride yourself on a simple job well done.

What if the company that makes drill bits tried to enhance this experience with their products? They could invent a great advertisement campaign to place their products in such a demand niche, reinvent the packaging so that is helps enforce this feeling, maybe as simple as a slogan that says: “Nothing like a job well done.”

Maybe they could put a small chip inside their drill bit boxes (and call them Drill Beats) and make them play Ain’t No Mountain High Enough by Tammi Terrell & Marvin Gaye every time you open them? The goal would be to help you actualise your wish for feeling proud, helpful, self-reliant and in charge when you are preparing the wall to hang your painting, and a good tune goes a long way for a lot of us.

Would you not buy these bits over the competition if this was this exact experience that you are searching for? You might just pay a bit more, maybe 10% or 20% because you would see the added value that they embody.

Or, you might laugh at the sight of them and take the cheapest ones — preferably returning them after you don’t need them anymore and persuade the cashier or manager that you never opened them and just bought the wrong kind.

The difference is, that there would be a lot less people willing to buy Drill Beats, of course, because they would only sell to those that identify with the added value that they provide. But at the same time such people would probably cherish the added value immensely and may even talk about their newly-found novelty drill bits with their friends. All in all, they would be deemed more valuable than the other, generic bits, if the right people got their hands on them.

The cheaper ones on the other hand would still be bought by folks that need a hole and don’t mind the quick and dirty way, if they can save a few cents because of it. The difference wouldn’t even be connected with the functionality of either drill bit — both make holes and nothing else.

All that would be different would be the customers perception of them, their ability to connect with the core need that made them go into the hardware store in the first place. And with drill bits, it’s usually never to buy drill bits.

People don’t buy drill bits, they buy the ability to create holes. But even then, they don’t need holes, they might need to hang a painting of a loved one, to pay respect, to remember, not to forget … to feel proud that they did it themselves.

The real question for us then, is what do people really need when they buy our art?

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#artist life #contemporary art #surviving art #make art everyday #blog

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