SavageInsight

It's been years since I've done anything with or for DA, and it wasn't because I didn't want or need to - its because I got so low and stuck in a way that I was cut up and cut off from feeling, sincerity, integrity, creativity, and that way lasted for years - so for the past few years I've been healing.

  Now I'd like to use my journal space to put down my thoughts and write and get a little better - no matter how low I got people couldn't stop saying how smart or wise they thought I was - and maybe that's what I'm still here, and I've never done drugs or drank, and I still love, or at least, recognize I love the things I have, and have grown, and be better.
  A space for inspirations:

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It's been a long time since I've been a DA artist, and most of my works are looking awfully dated, if not ordinary.

That in the few I have.

It's odd, but DA isn't really the place for a writer who won't do any visual art.

So, I'll be getting a new camera and scanner, asap, and am looking forward to my first real DA Rennaissance.


Influences/Inspirations/Thought Sparkers: Natalie Shau (Old School Style); Liliana Sanchez; Caryn Bendrick; Salvador Dali; Hans Peter Kolb; Cosmosue; Mark Gart; Alek Sandra; Kutsche; Extvia; Solkku;

I've been thinking of this for a while, and worked on my first piece for a while longer.

It's been a very long time since I've worked with DA, but only because I've been learning from the generousity and talent of others, what it is I truly like. I hoped I wouldn't post anything until I've made the change to more visual art, but this is something that's patiently sat with me.

My first piece to break the silence is of a kind of artform I haven't heard of before, and so I think I've created it.

I've always wanted to work in pure thoughts and ideas for my medium, but how to shape it, how to preserve and pass it on is a concept I find very hard take on.

Well, this is my first take.

I've created a piece of artwork that involved layering certain patterns of ideas, words to shape thoughtstreams and depth into shapes and color.

I've called it "Thought Sculpting."

Every sculpture has a point, an image of some meaning that it wants to hold.

Thought Sculpting pieces can't be shared by simply being written down, you have to "perform" or pass them on in person.

But like music and story outlines, a Thought Sculpture has notes to follow and guide an essence.

After all, sheet music will tell you the beats and pitch, but it can never tell you hope, pain, joy, sorrow, stillness or beauty.

So, my unfinished piece: "What Art is..."

I'm the complex person who likes to set himself apart. In parts that way I can see myself without the many layers getting in the way. It's hard to be the kind of person who is many personalities looking the same direction, who agree in the same way; basically, every "part of me" is like a different personality, with its own way of saying its greetings, facial expressions, and even its own shades of feelings, like love, hope, envy and anger.

Luckily and thankfully, there's only a few of these, and among each of them, and all of them, the core where they tie it all rings true and truest; so there's a place for me to be when it all gets too much and too hard to manage all at once.

"Othergear" is one of my facets, I made an account for that part of me (look me up), and "Savage Insight" is another.

It's different from multiple personality syndrome; extremely, as each thinks its their own person.

I don't, I'm all "me," just genuinely differently; like the petals of an opening dogflower or Black Magic Rose; every petal is its own, but overlaps, curls, and is with another, while all crossed at the center.

I simply wish I was more "Savage Insight" as I write this; that part of me dearly knows bittersweet, darkness, pain, depression, all those kinds of qualities, and how they are truly beautiful, for within them, unless you are selfish enough to cuddle that quality, there is a bright and lovingly sad and tear-filled gem glowing like the light of all that once was before creation. And so has the power to create anew.
And I can write such beautiful poetry when I'm that way. It's easier to release in fewer words what I hold inside. Check a few of my comments on Icy's account

The past month has been a massive slam upon me.

My grades, save my language class, are not doing so well. For an honors guy down to his last buck looking for scholarships so he can save people's eyes (Opthamology, big time. Plus it's the kind of job that can give me the time I need to do some serious heavy metal shredding on a Viper [www.woodviolins.com]; climb the mountains for some paragliding; get some serious artwork done; sear up gourmet; you know, really live life!); this sucks!

Two of my friends, I don't know if it was last month or the week before, but close enough; tried to kill themselves, and one more is so stressed she keeps thinking about it.

The one mortal man I can say I truly have love for has prostate cancer. I have little love for my Dad, and no brothers. My uncles and all I care enough about; but genuinely love, there's only my grandfather. The cancer's hit the spine at his neck as well; but the treatment they're giving is a roughly good one; I can only hope.

Last Sunday, I got hit in the side at an intersection while I was driving GREEN, and my dad is the new pet nuke project because of how it'll hit my insurance. I'm paying for the whole deal, so I'm out of cash. I'm out of cash that was supposed to move me out of the house and in with my friends. Plus, now if I move out, I can't come back, and zero help from home.

I know I sound wussie to a lot of you guys, but think about it; I've got places to go that clubs, malls, and Dairy Queen's magic trip to the Bahamas can't even dream about.
And besides, Mom and Dad are my only connection to the rest of my family. They're in Korea.

But flunking school and screwing my life because of my parents is the really wrong thing I could do.

So I'm rolling the dice and hoping that DialogueDirect can help me out by giving me a job that pays over 600 a week, part time, making sure charities get their money out of their pockets and to war orphans over seas or keep kids from getting slaughtered for really....perverted...ye-ah. Seriously meant. As I would with a heart attack.

I just hope my friends can help me out; $680 is all I need for my first month. That, and a job, is the price of freedom's ticket for me. All the other costs are just too many to count, but it's worth it.