Painting #46, a gift for a friend. It was one thing, doing the painting for the work event. The people who paid and submitted their pet photos were told it wasn’t likely to be a professional-quality painting in return. It was all for fun, and to raise funds for the shelter pets. But when you’re doing something seriously, it’s hard to know if it’s good enough. This is the 46th painting I’d done. It’s in gouache. Is it good enough to be a gift? And a gift that has meaning for the recipient? In some situations, maybe it really is just the thought that counts. I think if you look at it, you can see that I am developing a style. Certainly not photo-realism. Not loose abstraction. Something in the middle. I am full of self-doubt. And self-doubt is the kind of thing that really rolls once it gets started.

After finishing the painting, and trying to fall asleep that night, the questions started. What am I really good at? It seems everything is just stages of passable to mediocre. Even at work, I normally have some successes, but after 13 years I still have trouble with the same interpersonal relations and problems getting suitable responses and participation from some people. How can I allow the same problems to come back with regularity? I wasn’t good enough in music to make it a career. I can crochet blankets, but not follow a pattern. I have an interest in sewing, but nothing ever comes out just so. Physically, I can’t do anything without looking awkward or injuring myself. Diet, can’t lose weight. Sleep, but have nightmares and wind up more tired than before. I am always just on the edge of quitting my hobbies because they aren’t good enough. And I often feel like I’m just on the edge of losing my job, because I’m not able to control some of these interpersonal relationship issues. Thank goodness the one personal relationship I am successful with is the one that matters the most in my life. If you’re going to be successful, your life-partner is the one to be successful with.

I will continue to paint, though. With the exception of the crushing self-doubt, which is made worse in a situation like a gift, I really enjoy the process of painting. I like how I feel when I paint (when it’s just for me). I like who I am when I paint. Painting takes me into another place in my mind. It’s an exploration of something more to existence, almost like what Q was explaining to Picard. My goodness, why would you want to stop that? And maybe that’s the key. Are the things I do for myself, or for others? I know the old saying about not being able to please everyone. And honestly, the people I’m not pleasing…they aren’t pleasing me, either! Anyhow, painting #46 is done, and on to painting #47 which is another cat for another person left over from the work fundraiser. At the end of all of this, maybe I’ll find that my life is painting cats.