why do i suck?

There I was, minding my own business in front of my computer.  Just a regular day at school, nothing special.  I had just gotten the hang of my fall semester classes again after about 3 weeks and was feeling like everything was getting more under control.  I was checking emails and carefully reading through them from the top down.  I’m sorta weird about my inbox.  I need the email to remain “unread” until I’m ready to answer it or do whatever it’s asking me to do.  If I don’t keep it “unread”, it will quickly disappear into the abyss of old mail and I’ll wake up in a cold sweat three months from now when I remember that I didn’t answer it.  So I respond to one email and then read the next one.  It’s just an email advertising a call for art for an upcoming exhibit, but it sends a sharp chill up my spine.  Instantly it hits me.  I don’t have any art out on exhibit right now.  Does that mean I suck?

If you follow my nonsense here or on Instagram, you know it was a busy summer.  I had work in several national level juried exhibits all across the country and I did three exhibits in Summerville at once.  For most of the summer, I was very busy making lots of new art, shipping art to exhibits and installing a big immersive solo exhibit.  In the academic world of art professors, that’s a good year’s worth of accomplishments and it happened in the course of a few weeks.  But there, in front of a new call for art, it hit me.  You’re doing nothing now.  You must suck.  

Have I ever told you about my friend David Lancaster?  We became best friends in 4th grade after “hating” each other in 3rd grade.  It’s a long story and we’re already chasing a distracting story reference, so just go with it.  David became a great friend and we spent all of our available time together in school.  Beginning in the summer of 10th grade, we also began taking family vacations to the beach together.  One summer in the 1980s, we stayed with his grandparents at the ocean front Holiday Inn in south Myrtle Beach.  It was next door to a water slide and the smaller pavilion and there was pop radio music blaring from speakers all day and all night.  During this particular trip, “What Have You Done For Me Lately” by Janet Jackson was popular and it’s the only song I can remember playing during that entire trip.  It’s one of those annoying ear-worm things and I never really liked the song.  Because of the weirdness of my brain wiring, when I have a moment like the one in front of that email, that song plays in my head.  I can hear the canned music and her staccato lyric “what have you done for me lately?”  It’s not a pleasant experience and it only adds to the anxiety I felt that brought the lyric to mind in the first place.

I think about that lyric often when I think about social media and the idea of being a productive artist in the digital age.  

My brain speaks:  Maybe you did a year’s worth of stuff in a few weeks, but why aren’t you in a show right now?  What shows do you have coming up?  You don’t have any shows coming up.  Does that mean I suck?  Am I even still an artist?  Why is it so easy to feel like a failure?  Why is it so easy to forget all the positive experiences and just focus on the fact that all my work is sitting in my studio?  And did you see that so-and-so has a show somewhere now?  Why isn’t that you?  Have you applied for anything recently?  Am I even doing enough?  You got rejected so many times.  Why do I suck so bad?  (Yes, I realize I switched back and forth between I and you…it’s my brain talking and it’s also a part of me…go with it.)

I’m a pretty rational person and after a few minutes I will calm down and realize that professionally speaking, I’ve already had a great year and it’s only September.  But do other people know that?  I mean, if we’re all just relying on social media to know what’s going on, do people even remember that I did something a week ago?  I mean, I can generally get to a rational place in my own head and be honest about my accomplishments but what if other people don’t see that?  Or what if they don’t remember?

We’re all living in that Janet Jackson lyric now.  The news cycle is now down to being about a day long, and that’s if only one big thing happens in a day.  And for artists, a day isn’t very long.  It’s really great that you got that big opportunity or award.  You’ll get a few likes and comments about it and then, a day later, you’re old news.  What have you done for me lately?

I see this in my artist friends as well.  One good friend had an exceptional run of exhibits and awards and a couple of weeks later told me how bummed they were about their artwork and lack of upcoming exhibits.  Here’s the funny part:  I fussed at them for being ridiculous.  I listed all the big accomplishments I could remember off the top of my head and the list was pretty long.  Then I told them they had selective memory and that they needed to be kinder to themselves.  I encouraged them to keep a list of their accomplishments along with a list of kind things people said about their work and to review those lists frequently to keep things in proper perspective.  It’s good advice, right?  

I guess I need to take my own advice.  

And I need to get that stupid song out of my head.

TSITP but for dads

Let me preface this by admitting I have not read the book The Summer I Turned Pretty.  As a 53 year old man, I understand that I am not the preferred demographic and I only watched the streaming series because a couple of students twisted my arm and my 16 year old daughter said we should watch it together while she recovered from surgery.

So, there I was, sitting in my spot on the couch with a small dog sleeping beside me, my daughter sitting in the recliner and The Summer I Turned Pretty streaming on the TV.  We were pretty deep in the first season, maybe even starting the second season when my daughter looked over at me and said, “It’s no fun watching this with you because you’re such a dad.”  We both erupted in laughter.

She was right and I had realized that just before she said it.  She made me rewind a couple of parts she thought were emotional and she watched me sit through each part again completely stone-faced and unmoved.  There she was, on the verge of tears and there I was looking at a male lead character and calling him a loser.  

Violet read the book a few summers ago and think I recall some excitement from her when the show started airing on a streaming service.  I didn’t pay much attention and certainly had no desire to watch a young adult romance series.  In the summers since, she and I have watched a myriad of things, some sarcastic, some serious, some goofy and some romantic.  I’ve kept an open mind to most of her suggestions, even watching a buddy comedy movie starring SZA recently.  (It actually wasn’t bad.)

When I told her that a couple of students had suggested I watch it, she pounced.  This was going to be our new show.  She cued up the first episode and I agreed to give it a chance.  A couple of weeks later, we were all caught up and waiting on the next episode to drop.  It was clear, however, that we were not watching the same show. 

At 16 and female, this story was written for her.  I can suspend my old male-ness enough to understand why this story appeals to teenage girls.  The two lead male characters with abs are easy on the eyes and have just enough personality to pass as romantic interests.  The girl is young in every way and seems pleasant enough in the first episode.  It’s immediately obvious where this is headed.  

I’ll assume you’ve seen it or read it, but I’ll try not to spoil anything.  

Conrad is one of the guys, the oldest of the two brothers.  He’s brooding and troubled and while I see that the girl is into him, I can’t help but see Conrad through the eyes of the father of a teenage girl.  Brooding, red flag.  Troubled, red flag.  Smoking pot and underage drinking, red flag, red flag.  I see this guy showing up at my door to date my daughter and I would send him packing.  At the very least, I’d put the fear of God in him.  

The other brother is no better at the beginning and the more we learn about him, the more red flags he collects.  I would actively try to talk my daughter out of being interested in either of these goons.  “I majored in beer-ology!”  Really, dude?  Grow up and stay away from my daughter.  

We often speak up during these shows, laughing and making jokes with one another.  I do not hold back, hoping to use these as teaching moments.  I point out the character flaws, the red flags and warning signs in the hopes that Violet will notice them in real life when she sees them.  She is quite aware but she’s also obviously “team Conrad”.  There’s no arguing this with her.  I point to the flags and shut up.  And admittedly, the writers tried to make him more respectable in the third season.

But wait, who’s this other guy?  An actual nice guy enters the story.  One with no immediate red flags.  He’s kind, genuine and honest, and of course, within a few episodes he’s dumped.  He’s Cam Cameron, every dad’s dream guy, but no match for the forces of teen drama character tropes.  I call attention to Cam Cameron and Violet just smiles and says, “Well, yeah”, totally not interested in this guy she knows is just a side salad.  I declare my love for him and she tells me I’m not going to be happy with what happens to his character.  But she doesn’t need to tell me.  I already know.

Cam Cameron suffers the fate of every “nice guy” by losing out to the local brooding “bad boy”.  I mean, on one level, I can understand why some young ladies want to run after the troubled hot guy so they can save him and turn him into a decent guy.  But on another level, why buy a fixer-upper when there’s a move-in-ready dude who’s already actively courting you?  Cam Cameron will make you a better person by being an equal partner.  He will make sure the rent is paid, he’ll pick up the kids from school and he won’t forget your birthday (or your corsage).  The fixer-upper will always have his own drama and the lady will always be a side character in his life.  By the way, I don’t have unresolved bitterness from young love, you do!  Can you tell that an ex once dumped me because I was “too nice”?  Too nice?  Like, you wanted me to be mean to you?  So, yeah, maybe I’m a bit triggered when Cam Cameron just disappears from the story after never doing anything except helping everyone around him and making everyone’s lives better.

I guess nice is so unromantic, right?  It’s better to have abs than a decent personality.  I know, I know, that’s not what Jenny Han was trying to communicate to a generation of teens, but dang, it’s pretty well implied.

I love a good happy ending and I fully expect the unlikeable lead female to end up with the lesser of the two evil brothers.  That’s the ending this story suggests we need to feel good at the end.  But where’s my sequel where Cam Cameron finds a woman who realizes that he’s actually the best guy in town?  Where he finds his pure love totally reciprocated and where he gets his story told?  You know, about how it actually pays to be nice and treat women with respect?  How good guys win in the end.  And how “love” and “romance” is more than drama and tears.  Maybe we even see the reality of Belly’s “happiliy ever after” and we see her in her 50s, still babysitting the emotional child she married while Cam Cameron and his wife walk barefoot down the beach holding hands.  

This is why dads shouldn’t watch teen romance.  Team Cam Cameron for life.