Ten reasons I drove to Vancouver, Washington on my birthday:
1. To take a 3 hour nap in my car at a rest station next to all the van dwellers.
2. To change a fuse in my car so I could charge my phone.
3. To buy two bags of chicharonnes from WinCo.
4. To watch an old man race and ride his shopping cart down the parking lot in the rain like a kid.
5. To win a rubber duck from the claw machine.
6. To listen to a homeless man talk to himself while sipping coffee at Starbucks.
7. To listen to A Message by Kelela on repeat a million times until I can hear her singing in my dreams tonight.
8. To have a stranger explain the meaning and purpose of my own art to me.
9. To change my mind about driving to Portland.
10. To distract myself from real life for a moment.
For a very long time, my birthday has kicked-off a very emotionally taxing season.
Since my childhood, I’ve had very negative associations with the major holidays – Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years – and my birthday in early October became a warning.
I created a lot of unfair expectations around my birthday this year that all fell apart and in the end I turned off my phone, got in my car and just started driving.
Initially, I think I’d drive down to Portland, Oregon. Maybe go exploring.
But once I was on the road that idea started to die.
A visit to Portland for an experience felt too much like an Instagram moment, something to be documented for the public. “Oh! Look at what an amazing time I had in Portland! #birthdaysarethebest”
Instead, I saw homeless people camping in their cars at rest stations. An old man racing his shopping cart to his car like he was a child, in the bitter cold rain.
I found some really great pork rinds at a WinCo in Vancouver for cheap. Won a rubber duck to stick on the dash of my car as a reminder of my birthday escape.
I played T-Pain’s “Mashup” and Kelela’s “A Message” on repeat for hours and hours and hours.
What struck me the most was when I sat in a Starbucks drawing.
A man came in and sat a few chairs down from me at the same table. I could tell he was watching me at first. Not long after, a family came in and their kid bumped on the table a bit, moving it.
It didn’t bother me, I just waited until they were settled before I went back to drawing.
But the man next to me was really bothered by it. He started telling me about how carefully he had made sure to sit down next to me so he wouldn’t accidentally bump the table and ruin my drawing.
That he collects art and knows how important it is not be disturbed when you’re making art. Important not to let your art become imperfect. One mistake and it ruins the whole piece.
I tried to tell him that mistakes were okay.
But he dismissed me completely and tried to explain to me the importance of my own art. He was artsplaining to me…
I still think about this conversation often.
When he was getting ready to leave I thought about gifting him the drawing I made, but I hesitated for some reason.
The girl with the fishbowl helmet, and a dress to fancy to be handling a fish is one of my favorites now.
There are plenty of mistakes I made in this drawing. In every drawing, I make there are a million mistakes. If we only work at perfection we’re going to miss out on a lot of life.
There are no perfect circumstances to create. Just create.
