DOCUMENT:
Chronicles of Project 25:365
On Why the Phrase "You're Enough" Makes Me Want to Burst into Flames
First of all, what the fuck is that phrase supposed to mean? Enough for what? I suspect that the lack of clarity is baked in for ease of nauseating platitude, but I really want to know: what do people envision when they say it?
I have met a fair amount of people who mistook my bitter perception of reality for self-loathing and felt compelled to let me know that I am, in fact, enough. When I've responded, "I don't know what that's supposed to mean" they just said it again, like maybe I didn't hear them clearly. I don't think I've ever met someone who's been willing to clarify what it means beyond that it's supposed to make people feel better. I don't know how. Because it never occurred to me to investigate whether I was enough, because it’s irrelevant. It's like wondering if I'm ugly. Or if I'm going to die in a car wreck if I turn left at 6:17pm on a Thursday. What the fuck would I do about it? Face-lift? Turn right? Then maybe I'd have whatever whats-her-name from Sharknado had and be really fucked up looking or I'd slip in the bathtub and die that way. Don't fuck around with someone with decent intellect and a severe anxiety disorder. We can overthink anything.
Being told I'm enough is annoying and insulting. Because it's not true.
In some times I am not enough. Like the time I took my dog on a hiking trip and gave myself food poisoning and ended up crapping and barfing my guts out uncontrollably for hours in a very nice, rustic lodge while the aforementioned dog lay nervously whining in the corner. Until he got so stressed that he decided to join me and threw up in the middle of the room. And then I had to figure out how to take him outside in 25 degree weather without either shitting my pants or throwing up on him or myself. It wasn't a good night. I eventually slept 3.5 hours before getting up and driving us home with an acid-scorched throat and those little red pinpricks under my eyes from blood vessels exploding.
If what is meant by enough is that no one died? Sure, I was enough. But so was the dog, which seems like a pretty low fucking bar. While it is actually sometimes my goal to be more like my dog (live in the moment, find joy in small things), I don't base my worth on our similarities. And if enough is meant to imply thriving? Then I was most definitely not enough in that situation. I could have seriously benefited from the presence of a functional adult. With a strong stomach.
In some places I'm not enough. If there is a creator, it had a chuckle when it gave me demigod-level small-motor skills and the large motor skills of a blind penguin on land with a weight wrapped around just one foot. I would not only not be enough on a large fishing vessel, as a lineman, or in any number of other occupations where not falling over and not dropping shit is essential, I would actively endanger the lives of my coworkers. And that's just worst-case scenario shit. I would also fail in the environments of professional pinball players, runway models, code-breakers, spies, contract negotiators, or anyone who does fucking math, on and on, ad infinitum.
For some people I'm not enough. As the saying goes: what other people think of me is none of my business. So, following that adage, I'm not going to speculate as to why I am sometimes not enough, but I promise it's true. I have failed to be enough as a friend, a lover, a teacher, and an artist. It is not true that the friends I've lost missed out on someone who's... enough. They literally encountered me and said to themselves, "welp, this is not enough to be worth my time." I assure you I was baffled and heartbroken. But that doesn't mean those people were wrong. It turns out: humans have agency, which sucks a big fat one for those of us who would like everything to be punctual, rational, and up to our neurotic standards. Just because I don't like someone's decision doesn't mean they're a villian. And making them a villain in my story of enoughness is self-serving pathological bullshit.
Being able to accept not being enough is what psychologists refer to as distress tolerance, which is an invaluable skill. Lying to preserve a false ego by, say, using a narrative about worth to justify existing ... is not exactly conducive to personal growth or fulfilment.
This is all true. But it's also irrelevant. To exist in the midst of entropy is, from the highest level of meaning, a sacred opportunity, and at very lowest: pretty fucking neat. Metrics of worth are... Cute. Petty bullshit. Laughable. Enough?? Enough doesn't touch the depth of human value. No one is merely enough. Everyone should stop insisting that's all they are. Because it's not nearly enough.
The Evolution of a Book
(Leather, Paper, Glue; all the bits that make up a book)
This little book started out as a test project for my next journal, which is significantly larger. I prefer to use long-stitch binding for journals because it results in pages that lie flat, but that limits the kinds of designs I can create. Because I'm not a very gifted bookbinder, I needed to test an idea I had for hiding the binding with this small version before moving to the final piece.
In Heideggerian parlance, my usual journals are three kinds of things: two kinds of equipment and art, simultaneously. When they’re just sitting around, they’re books and art. When they’re at hand, they can pass for art, books, or weapons, depending on who’s holding them and how quickly they’re moving through space. Because the journals are enormous and heavy, human beings could lose their lives if their squishy little temples came into swift contact with the corner of one of those monstrosities.
For some reason (probably the same reason why I naturally overcomplicate everything unless it’s related to my appearance, which I undercomplicate to a degree that indicates either an egregious inability to understand my reality as a living human being in a world, or an admirable spirit of ethereal holiness untainted by the base physical plane), I decided I wanted something soft, flexible, and light for my next journal. Even if it cut back on my available melee weapons. Hence the little test guy. I figured I'd give him to someone when I was done mucking about.
But then I realized that if I split some of the pages into quarters for very small drawings and added flags to the already sewn signatures, I would have plenty of drawing space for 365.
(Gluing in the flags)
Flag books are traditionally made with accordian-style bindings, so these aren’t authentic flags. They’re more structural elements, which I think make the book a bit like a labyrinth. Resulting in the best kind of book. Another way that books are like buildings.
I got all the extra flags glued in and made and attached the strap. It’s a sweet and simple book. When it’s open, it looks pretty normal.
Unless you unfold all the flags…
…at which point it looks fucking insane.
Like a book suddenly forgot how many dimensions it was supposed to transmit information through, exploded up through a variety of unknown and incomprehensible layers of reality, and then crystallized back into the average three.
It’s perfect.
And now “fucking with the book” is officially a category for my 365.
Little Little Pieces
(Leather Dye on Leather)
I have done more tests for this journal than any other previous book. I know I’m putting off working on the real thing, but I’m not sure why. Sometimes things are better as ideas than as realities. Usually they are, from my perspective.
Tonight was the first meeting for Project 25:365. Everyone was so lovely and thoughtful about what they’re going to work on and there were lots of great ideas about how we can work together and support each other. We’ve got a Discord server set up now, where everyone can share their general thoughts, post works in progress, and check out prompts for each month. I’m going to try to get a calendar up for our in-person meetings and include links to the Art Jam folks who hang out and draw together. Lots of pieces in the ether. That’s the nice thing about big sprawling networks: they don’t actually have termini.
More Book Progress
(Pen and Pencil on Paper)
Finally working on the actual design for the next book. I’m not tooling this one, which will save me a significant amount of time. Tooling something this complex would take me months, and I have other pieces to be working on. Here’s what a tooled piece looks like:
(Vegetable Tan Leather, Dye)
That book took me three months to tool and it’s half the size of the current project. Someday I’ll make a twisty dragon tooled book….
Maybe.