I was walking in the woods earlier and I called Jimmie. I heard myself say that I am learning more about myself in this process than anything else combined. Survival mode. My dad refused to turn the air on. He must have forgotten I got bit by a tick in bed last week. Survival mode. I was working on formatting my wedding invites when my mom came storming out of her bedroom, “asshole this” and “what the fuck that. Footstomping galore.
Am I supposed to pretend like this isn’t happening? Like this is fine? Sweep this under the rug? No questions were asked. No self evaluation taken. Survival mode. I escaped to the Natural History Museum yesterday. It was raining and late in the afternoon but I still went anyway. Survival mode. Didn’t want to risk potentially getting yelled at. Survival mode. Mediating two grown adults with wildly different attachment styles, even from a young age. Survival mode.
I feel like I was born in survival mode. I cannot think of a time in my childhood where it wasn’t present, which is sad because I didn’t have anything to compare it to. Survival mode. The hair on your neck stands up, palms sweaty Just go for it – you try, yet that old voice is still there. Survival mode.
I knew this piece needed to feel repetitive. Like I was stuck inside of an endless looping hell unable to get out. I shot this piece about three times. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to land with it. Eventually I thought the everchanging TV would be the right call. The CRT thing is sort of overdone, so I aimed to not make the TV the sole focus of the work. The looping nature is the focus.
