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Spaghetti.
I went over to my neighbs late the other night. My brother decided to wake her up by pounding on her bedroom window and scaring her out of her sheets. Probably terrifying, but funny at the same time. I walked in and asked her if she had anything for me to put in my stomach. She said Ms. Rowdy had made spaghetti that night and it was the worst thing she had ever tasted. In her words, it tasted 'like fart'. Out of curiuosity, I had to taste this recipe. I'm kind of a rat when it comes to food anyway; even if it literally tasted like fart, I would have still ate it because its free.
I laughed at her remark but had to ask her if she told Rowdy it was horrible.
"Oh, no. I just said I wasn't that hungry. I didn't want to hurt her feelings or nothing, I mean, everyone else said they liked it... "
In unison, my brother and I looked at each other, chuckled and said
" Or at least they said they liked it."
I tasted it. I ate a bunch of it actually. And I'll admit, it wasn't awesome or something I'd recommend to anyone else. But it wasn't gag worthy or disgusting necessarily, it just wasn't seasoned right. Regardless, Rowdy left that night thinking she made dinner for her friends and that they loved it. When really, the truth was hidden behind the rest of soon-to-be thrown out left overs in the fridge afterwards.
I have an honesty complex. I call it a complex because I've began to realize how rare brutal, blunt honesty is to come across. And for me, its a must in order get some sort of objectivity to grow from. But I've found it easier for people to blatantly lie to someones face- about their choice of hair color, wardrobe, music taste, etc- instead of telling them the truth and letting them know that "no, that shirt does not match those shoes" or "no, that color does not look good on you" or "no, that music makes me want to stab my ears." I understand being sensitive. I understand being considerate. I understand fear of conflict and whatever else but what I dont get is why its so hard for someone to just simply say how they feel and put it on the table. Lay it out, and dont make it insulting or hurtful but just... real.
I need that real. I need that level of criticism and nothing less. Fighting this good fight is... a fight. Its not easy. Its not a walk in the park. Its an obsticle course. You have to jump around cliches and avoid generic topics and continually pace yourself to keep your identity and a unique voice. And when I read my work to people, or recieve responses from people about my work... its becomes almost scripted; they are going to say "Man, that was awesome. Good stuff!" or "Yeah, that was really good" and that shit never propells my artistic development. It just makes my writing plateau. I feel like "Thank you" has about as much substance behind it as "hello" or "how are you" when I say it now; its lowered itself from a sincere level of humbling appreciation to boring, repetitive small talk.
Maybe its insecurity that drives this need. Maybe the truth is that some of what I write is actually 'good stuff' and I'm just really bad at taking compliments. But I can't help but think that sometimes, when I leave the room, that the people who read my work or hear me perform tell others it tasted like fart. And personally, I WANT TO HEAR THAT STUFF! I dont want these candy coated responses. Even if I do write or perform or say something awesome, I would almost prefer to recieve a " That was good but I think you should.... (blank)". Give me a building block. Give me an obsticle to maneuver around or something to push me higher.
I dont want to be intimidating. I dont want artists to approach me to do projects and accept every idea I spew out as being right or usable. I want to be rejected. I want to be told 'that just sucks'. I want you to break me down so I can grow and become a better me. Challenge me. Shove my face into my mistakes and my short comings. I am a flaw. Personified and breathing so
dont let me think I'm anything more than a work in progress.
Links for Tim:
kineticaffect.com
http://stitchedupstillrunningwithscissors.blogspot.com
