A Homeless Man in an Armani Suit

I studied Art (and Art History) in school. Initially, I went for Photography. I thought I’d be a photojournalist, because I could write fairly well, most days (and really well when the mood struck). Because of my extra passion for words, I ended up with an accidental English minor (apparently common).

However, I lost it. Not the minor in English, but IT. The big unexplainable IT.

I started to resent my camera. I realized that, and thought I’d ‘take a break’. That was in 2007. I haven’t done anything ‘real’ with my camera since; though, I did get ‘it’ back in 2008.

It’s okay, though. In this time, I’ve really taken to painting and figure drawing and I’ve gotten back into writing (not just blogging; though, I guess it counts).

If there is one thing in life that I understand it is the idea of a catharsis act.

I had such a bad day yesterday that I can’t help thinking about these things. These wonderful loves of mine. Today, I sat here on the couch and thought, in great detail, about idea behind Dürer’s etching, Knight, Devil and Death. I mean, it’s right there on the wall in our apartment, but mostly I walk past it every day and give it little thought. I really, really enjoyed it, though. I even went and pulled out an old art history book when I couldn’t remember something. I didn’t Google it! It was pleasant to find a little marker for it, as well.  I like when little things like that happen.

My love of Art is no secret. It’s something people I never talked to in high school still know about me.

What fewer people know about is this: I love to volunteer with the homeless. I love to not volunteer with the homeless and just bring blankets or leave my to-go box with them. I love to talk to them and some people that know me will even tell you that this paid off for me (because in all of my years in the city, I walked to and from work alone. Or to and from the bar alone. And I was never, ever hurt. I’ve even had a homeless man buy me a soda.).

No one wants to feel cast off. Sure, I avoid some of those men like the plague. But I wouldn’t know which ones to avoid had I not paid attention; had I not had conversations with a few good men. I mean, I may be kind, but I’m not naive.

In comparison, what I do now in my life is the opposite of that volunteer work.

That’s why all of this came up. I had a horrible day and in thinking of everything that went wrong and really delving into self deprecation, I caught myself thinking about how different it is to give a homeless man somewhere to sleep, shower or eat than to help someone else.

Homeless people are nicer, more grateful people than the people I encounter at work. I honestly think that. Sure, you get the stray feather in both groups. But I prefer the rancid smell of an unwashed, grateful man to the smell of expensive perfume on a rancid bitch. Pardon my language.

I had a horrible day yesterday because I don’t have the patience for ungratefulness or insults that I pretend to have. I will take criticism- if there is anything an art student knows how to take, it is criticism. But don’t call me a liar. Don’t insult my integrity. Yes, I can be rather thick skinned but that is just lost on me right now. I made the comparison, recently, that I feel as emotional as a pregnant woman. The only universally hyper emotional thing I could think of to compare myself to…   This is not just maturity and gratitude when something good happens. Or a few tears over dead flowers. This is real, uncontrollable emotion and I’m not depressed. I’m just… tender… about the things I hold dear (like my integrity or you know, ME).

Will that ever go back to normal? Because my response yesterday was less than pleasant and I just said, ‘I don’t have the time or the patience to be called a liar by anyone, or to deal with this shit.’ It was essentially a breakdown, which I would usually feel bad and embarrassed about… but I don’t.  Either way, I just want to go back to hiding my emotional capacity.

I don’t know… I guess I was just looking for a homeless man in an Armani suit, yesterday.

I’m including a link to a beautiful little story and video that will make you want to go touch the person you love most. Watch it, because it will improve your day:

http://zengarage.com.au/2013/03/marina-abramovic-and-ulay/

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7 thoughts on “A Homeless Man in an Armani Suit

  1. Pingback: Anger Issues and the Homeless | brainsections

  2. Pingback: Gratitude | Fierce is the New Pink

    • My point wasnt really to argue the validity of the homeless, so much as to say they are easier to work with than the people I currently work with. I volunteered for so so so long and those people are so grateful. The people I deal with now? Absolutely entitled. Completely rude and ungrateful. Blah.

      Losing my mind was not something I really talk about. I eventually ended up in the hospital for a couple of days. By that time, Id lost it for about a 6 months. No bueno. Even though Im better, I still cant make myself shoot. Ill paint, though. Paint my little arm off if ya let me!

      • Then paint away! I would poor bronze all day every day if I could. xo I was not being critical of you, just pointing out another thing that many don’t know. I may have to right my next blog on a patient I had that was trust fund baby and lived and died on the streets.

    • Didnt mean to send that reply, just yet!
      Continueing, I meant to say that I hope you ‘find it’ and stop neglecting your camera or at least pick up a new love 🙂 I think making art is the single most important thing to my happiness. Good luck 🙂

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