the art of savanting one's idiocy...

according to my maternal progenitor, i am an idiot savant. why in the fuck would she ever tell anyone something like that? 'cause she was throwed the fuck off. call it hate. call it whatever you'd like, but that was pretty dark to say the least. i prefer to call it the evilness that seemed to prevail in her human minglings. i try not to function in such a way. don't wanna die like she did...

i find the incorrect assessment interesting at this stage in my human existence for a very significant reason: i am an artist.

i have been artistic my entire life. sadly, my intellectual prowess became the beloved characteristic of my emotionally dysfunctional biological contributors. perhaps it's the Taurus in me, but i have consistently found ways to resuscitate the life of my true nature. somehow, many people seem to believe that artistic types are not quite intellectual. i find this odd. my studies recall various cats that clearly do not support such ideas. Mr. DaVinci especially sheds light on the foolishness of such concepts.

i suppose one could neglect intellectual endeavors for the sake of purely artistic pursuits, but the abilities of the artist benefit from the accumulation of knowledge no different from the perceived academic. how do you improve your natural skill level w/o study? does not one's natural ability become more finely tuned through the practice of one's study? this applies to many if not all fields. which athlete performs better, the one w/raw talent, or the one w/raw talent & a high capacity for understanding the strategy & mechanics of the athletic endeavor?

i am quite excited to be in a position where i can truly support my artistic endeavors far more vigorously than at any time in my human journey so far. no thanks to either of my cell donors, i am beginning to realize levels of creative energy & expression that i have only previously dreamt about.

resilience is making life work...

make like i hope the Cardinals win the Super Bowl...

PEACE
...be calm...