So, I’ve been working on my new book—the one for artists—for the past week. Well, almost a week. I’m on a roll here, but my confidence still ebbs and flows. Though, I think I’m just learning to accept that. So what if I don’t think I’m amazing? Who really does, anyway? I mean, I do know people who think they are totally amazing, and they annoy me. And what’s the line between having healthy confidence and being a narcissist? I don’t know. I constantly worry I’m a narcissist! Does that even make sense?

The working/temporary title for this book is What Matters? I probably won’t keep that name. For now, it’s the title of the first chapter, so that’s how I’ve been referring to the whole thing.

It’s all in its beginning stages. I’m about to start Chapter 7 now. It’s all been first-draft material, so nothing is polished yet, but I’m getting through it fairly quickly. It’s probably because it’s part memoir, even though it’s definitely a book to help artists start an art career. Well, according to moi. I do think it’s helpful so far.

I don’t know if I’m going to try to publish it elsewhere or self-publish it. Trying to get a book published is the most disappointing pain in the ass there ever was. It’s worse than trying to keep up an art career, apply for grants and residencies, or even trying to get people to come to a free workshop.

Either way, I’m going to keep writing the book, even if it ends up sucking butt. I’ve already invested a lot of time into it. I’m only 10K words in, but I know it will wind up being around 50K, which is probably a good-sized, easy, short read, kind of like Art & Fear, which I’ve read more than a few times. It’s a short, easy read and I’ve been recommending that book to artists for many years.

I think, as long as I don’t put too much effort into this thing, maybe I won’t regret it like I did with my first book. I mean, I hope not.

I’ve been feeling rather down otherwise. I’m pretty tired of it. Lately, whenever I’ve been feeling happy or excited about something new in my life, someone comes along and pisses on it. Then, I obsess over wondering why. I inevitably think it’s something about me that makes me so utterly unlikeable. I think this because I would never piss on anyone else’s parade, even if I thought it wasn’t a very good parade.

What is wrong with people? Why aren’t friends friends? It’s so hard to trust people, especially those who get off on discouraging you. I don’t get it. So I had a horrible evening last night. My depression kicked into overdrive, but in the end I realized that once in a while, someone comes into my life, and they’re just not good for me. Throughout the years, I’ve been able to shed these peop…what should I call them—creeps? And while it’s never easy, I somehow choose myself instead and get my bearings back. In 58 years, it’s only been a few; I can count them on one hand. Maybe that’s normal? I don’t know.

The hard part is that I sorta fall in love with my friends, especially when they are new in my life, and we have so much in common. It’s hard to detach. I know I have to, though. When you’re having a relationship with someone, and you can never predict their intentions, how can you build real trust? I don’t think it’s possible.

This epiphany, or perhaps just before it, I got so depressed I began texting 988 and never even got a reply! That only made me feel like a first-class loser. Not only that, I posted a question online to get opinions about this “mentoring” venture and got super harsh feedback. I was called corny, delusional, among other things. I was told that what I am trying to offer should just be some kind of after-school program, and then accused of wanting to emulate Paddy Johnson (who rips artists off, according to this person).

I couldn’t sleep. I actually was devastated by it. I immediately took down my post, which made me feel a little better, but I fucking cried myself to sleep. I hate how sensitive I am sometimes. However, I’ve been having a lot of rapid-cycle hypomania, and I believe it’s because I’m probably due for a medication change.

Well, that was all very depressing! Why do I type on here when I feel this way? I need to peel myself away from the computer now, as this gets dangerous. The last time I went through a medication change, it was probably the worst hell I’ve ever been through, so I truly dread what I will go through. It’s ironic to have to change meds because I feel so awful, but while trying to find the next new cocktail, that might make it even worse! There’s no winning there.

Okay, that’s enough of that.