The Painter in Prettyhate

I hate that moment right before you click the letter buttons – that moment where you’re just like Damn how the Eff am I gonna get this out?  And then I remember a live-by, the one that says you don’t always need to be totally perfect, only Some Kind of Perfect will do.
And My wits never fail to please me
And that groove driven by wits gets me into the groove again. And even if it doesn’t…
Then its Some Kind of Perfect.

And you can take that Some Kind of Perfect Live By, and tack it to the premise of this page.
For the Painter in Prettyhate always fails to remember it. And thus always fails to finish a painting. OH EFF.

And maybe they are finished. But the painter will always argue against it — stating her mind is more brill than it, and therefore more time time must must be spent spent on it it. OH EFF.

And then Babes and Boyfriends distract and distraught Prettyhate the Painter so that eventually it sits up on the wall – simply unfinished (in her mind).

And why why? Isn’t that always the question? okay no then. How about WHAT?
What about it is not finished?
And the Painter Answers, it just isn’t.
And I say, Well it looks so. And maybe it even looks better that it is so.

-And now, for the Public Service Announcement -

Maybe the erasive traces on that surface are what drives me to look at it closer.
Maybe it makes me wonder.
what beauty I really see.
Because it’s beautiful already. And how much more can it get?
You say yes, I say no.
You say goodbye and I say hello.
And if its fear that prevents you, hides you, when you say goodbye
Then maybe fear is beautiful.
Because it is fear that instills these as so.
And I like what I don’t see.
And please, make more of these?

And okay she says. If you insist. Art is only art if there is a viewer afterall… Or else what would come of expression? Where would it go?  That communicative element that makes it art – would not exist. And these paintings would not only be unfinished. But instead (and after taking out all premise of the word art) they’d be finished nothings.
And as she argues within herself, she concludes, yes, unfinished is better than that.
It’s better than her perfect. It’s some kind of it.

Betterment comes with time. 
So please don’t cram it ALL into a single session.
Because there’s not enough as is.
There is always a better way.
And perfect doesn’t exist.

-Prettyhate and The Painter-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Prettyhate in a Mirror: A Glance

Prettyhate In a Mirror
-Biographical Content and Postings -

So I am Prettyhate.
And this is the real introduction. If by chance you happened to read I don’t write words…I paint them or I am the all-seeing, all-dancing crap of the world categorized under Crap of the World then you might be a little more up to date in the matter that is me.

So I like to call myself The Junker. Sometimes I’ll even grace you with Anna or Jane or Jods.

I am 23 years old and what brings me to the world of blogging is probably the first bit of junk you’re looking to find. — and I’m an OD girl. So this is taking a bit of getting used to.
But what intrigued me about this was PRivate PRactice <<— A PR girl and an old CFL cheerleader acquaintance. We were on the same team —  Anyway, I came across her Facebook-advertised blog . And to say the least, was extremely surprised (she deserves more credit than an extreme).
Some history on her: My first impression of PR Girl was through a friend of mine. We’ll call this friend ParanoidPassenger. And PP was a jader. And the kind of person you had to dumb your wits down so that SHE could stand your presence. PP hated PR Girl (maybe because Pr Girl was Miss Argo and PP was not) thus jading my image of her. And I hated the fact that I had to drive this ParanoidPassenger to practice several times a week. I became lost in the dumbing of wits and her horrible case of worried passenger syndrome, which continued to freak me out (AND PISS ME OFF) until I quit was foced to quit the season early - Well through the process of numbing myself just so that I could bare this twat, PP Number Two graced shadowed us with her presence, and shadowing anything Anna, Jane or Jods even tried to bring to the table. Anyway, PR Girl had a thing against Miss Passenger and Passenger #2 for that matter, because who EVER likes the sidekick? Well when that was done with I said goodbye to PP#2 (thank heavens).
And in her unknowingly way - Pr Girl introduced me to all of this and for that she deserves a small pile in this trashfield.

And this brings you to me…

A phobic perfectionist constantly in the mirror of her many selves.

Should I give you the whole biography? Or save it?
I’ll give you whats important. or if you want the list go right ahead and press -> liste

What’s missing from that thing of distain is some history.
I’ll save the waste, (just this once).
I went to highschool like every 13 year old eventually does.
Grade 9 is tough when you skip a grade and your remaining friends are still back at elementary school. Eating my lunch in the bathroom, I turned into a mute tag-along for the Smoking Plaza Kids – Known as The Math Girl you could scam free homework from, I indulged in 90%+ averages and afterschool Cheerleading. I was scared shitless of gym class, and being found out. I hid behind a tag-along facade hoping no one would look in between the stall cracks.
Eventually I shed my highschool phobia and tag-along image for a higher spot on the heirarchy – one known as The Cheerleader. I joined the school’s morning television show where my Barbi-doll voice was a hit for the anchor spot and reporting devision. And my new-found ditz persona gave me the confidence to obtain chief editor spot and creative mind for the show’s facets.
This was my highschool. Phobic Catepillar to Social Butterfly. I was flying off the walls, checking in between the stall cracks for those who needed a friend. I bounced and bounced and was simply everywhere.
Now.
Let’s fast-track to highschool graduation. I didn’t attend. But was granted the Math award with $50 anyway.
I would have killed to have seen their faces. The Cheerleader gets the math award? WHAaaT?
Always keep them guessing….
That & the Art Award (obviously), I was on my way to The University of Guelph for a Bachelor of Fine Arts.
Faced with severe bulimia, anorexia, several stupid assholes, self-harm and a suicidal SHIT ON ME FEST – I came out as Prettyhate. Having more than what I needed of The Rock Bottom Period.
……minus a degree.

I now reside with my lifemate and 4 month old Baby Boy. Aaron and Sammy.
We have a Champion Yorkshire named Maple, a Cattledog and tuxedo Cat.

I am a painter after that and before anything else.
I believe that happiness is a state of mind. Throw situation and context out the window.
I feel like going into my current research topic for my upcoming paint collection – but it is 5:10 AM and I should be getting a few hours in before the babe wakes up for some more Parent’s Choice.

Oh yeah…I don’t believe in God.

This might just turn me into an insomniac again.

***unfinished****