Don’t Join What You Don’t Want To Quit

There are a few things in life that are believed solely out of hope that they could maybe one day be real. Believing in things bigger than yourself is like wishing on a star or throwing salt over your shoulder. Most likely nothing will come of it … but wouldn’t it be nice? Often times the things that matter most in life are the things that cannot be grouped into fact or fiction, right or wrong, black or white. What we hope for, what we want, and what we always wished we could have nestles into a fuzzy grey area that I like to think is the core of mush we all have somewhere. That sweet center — no matter how battered and shit covered -– brings us all together like magnet to metal. It’s called hope.

I have found that the older you get the more of a contradiction you become. While on one hand you have more of a handle on your beliefs, you are also able to find the exact opposite of almost anything within yourself at all times. On a day to day basis I can honestly say that I have a firm distaste for 80% of the population, but then something will happen. I’ll encounter some small act of humanity like looking up at a stranger while sitting on the ground and having them look down at me to exchange a random and warm smile –- and there it is! You want to hate people, you want to be a hard ass, but at the end of the day we all just want a hug. We all want more than we can see and more than what we are. We want to be good.

The idea of a community — being a grouping of people in the same general area who share a commonality in location and/or interests — is a wonderful “idea.” Just like I wish that there really were leprechauns and fairies flitting about hiding gold and putting glitter in my underpants drawer, I wish that communities could be what they have potential to be. Banding as a group to pool together separate skills in order to inch towards a shared goal or sense of safety and belonging is amazing! However, this doesn’t happen (or may be called communism … whatever.) It has been my finding that out of a group of 50 people you are lucky to find two who aren’t complete douche bags. And from my understanding a mass of shitty back biting bitches all thrown into the same vicinity isn’t called a community … it’s called hell.

A few weeks ago I was speaking to a friend of mine who I really look up to creatively. I was making fun of the idea of astrology and could see her facial expression turn from a smile to that look a person gets when they are secretly thinking “this person has shit for brains.” Moments later, I made the declaration that it would be wonderful to live on a farm with a bunch of people and just make stuff and grow stuff and not have to worry about shit. I was called a hippie by a person who believes in tarot cards and had to repress thinking, “She’s way too normal” about a person who frequents parties where excitement is found in kicking a raw turkey around the concrete floor of a basement. Similar and different. I hate you, but I love you. This is why communities will never work.

It is unfortunate that communities –- much like any other sort of relationship –- are best maintained from a distance. The only way to preserve a thought or emotion is to not have anything to do with it and not tell anyone about it. The next time you think about hopping over to a community event like a fluffy dumb bunny, just send in a lovely and thoughtful note instead … unsigned.

Artist: Vanessa Shinmoto is a visual artist and proud Gen-xer who grew up in the San Fernando Valley, porno capital of the world. She now lives in Chicago and has been creating art since 1997 after a brief stint as a lawyer.

A cheesy but fun self-help book, Recovery of Your Inner Child, inspired Vanessa to create art with her non-dominant left hand. More of her work can be seen here.