Artsy Fartsy

Art is for perverts, drug addicts, and megalomaniacs.

It's official, I'm joining a pentecostal church first thing in the morning, growing my hair out, curling my bangs to enormous proportions, and buying my clothes strictly at craft fairs from this point on. I no longer warrant a place in civilized society, because I have come to the conclusion it is anything but.

One of the things that originally attracted my husband and I to one another was our mutual love for indy music and avant guard art. He's an art minor and quite a true artist himself. I on the other hand am bad at math, and simply chose to become a right brained individual by default in an attempt to avoid having to balance my checkbook.

Some art I get; 90% I over analyze in an attempt to get. For the longest time I have surmised that a majority of artists acquire extra access to that dormant part of the human brain, whether it be through intense meditation or recreational drugs, and this belief has intrigued me greatly. Rather than experiment myself I've chosen to play it safe and stay on the outside peering in.

Recently though, I've come to the conclusion that most modern day artists (who are incapable of doodling anything more than a stick figure) simply choose their occupation in order to give purpose to a preexisting vice; whether it be substance abuse, a superiority complex, or just a carnal need to see other human beings in the nude. These are the 'artist,' of course, who throw a bloody tampon covered in whip cream into a bucket of razors and tell you to figure out what it means.

Don't get me wrong, I do acknowledge there is still rare, genuine talent out there, but our society has made it incredibly easy for impostors to flourish.

Upon making this discovery, I've decided I want nothing more to do with it. At one point I was intrigued by these individuals tormented existence but now thanks to A&E and can get my fill of them by watching episodes of 'Intervention.'

There are much more useful things we can spend our energy deciphering. Perhaps I'm just growing up...or perhaps I'm just getting old. It saddens me that I now see a difference between the two.

Abrahm will surely think I'm lame now, and come to the conclusion that he has been tricked into marrying a dull conservative who has become quite the cranial switch hitter. Hopefully the old saying is true though, and 'if' beauty is in the eye of the beholder than perhaps one day he can acquire a taste for the un-extraordinary new me....corn husk sized bangs and all.