Kristen Simental

One of the great things about being an unknown, as Austin Kleon said in “Steal Like an Artist: 10 Things Nobody Told You About Being Creative,” is…

"When you're unknown, you have the freedom to experiment, to take risks, and to make mistakes without the pressure of an audience. Obscurity provides a space where you can find your voice and develop your style without the distractions of fame or the expectations of others. Embrace your obscurity, because it's in this space that true creativity can flourish."

So, no one knows that I changed the theme on this blog so I can focus on the writing. I’ve spent two decades fiddling with WordPress only to arrive at WordPress Fiddle Fatigue. I’m so sick of tweaking and picking the right photos or comparing two indistinguishable fonts. Sans vs Serif vs Script vs Display. In other words, it’s not you, WordPress.org. It’s me. Further, I moved the blog to WordPress.com, a paid service with better security and made-for-most-people plug-and-play capabilities. I do this now because I can afford it. Because I just turned forty-nine and shit’s getting old. Fiddle Fatigue is real. I don’t want to fuck with code or change settings anymore. I don’t want to monitor my site for hackers or have to remember to update fifteen plugins. And this is it. I’ve arrived at that eventual mid-life point where stuff sucks. I used to love fiddling with code until 2am. I used to get off on picking fonts and didn’t mind updating plugins. It all gave me a sense of security and an identity as a caring web designer who took things like security seriously. Don’t get me wrong, I still love a good font, but I also don’t care as much anymore. Open Sans is decent folk for a font and it’ll do just fine.

Writing isn’t the only place I’m looking to simplify. I’m taking a microscope to my life and finding ways to make things easier, more pleasant. Simplicity is something we only truly desire once we’ve been embroiled in chaos for so long. The pandemic was a wake-up call for many of us, showing us how futile, boring, and overly mechanical our lives are. Before the pandemic, I had Lyme Disease which gave me a boot camp level education in staying home, being lonely, and looking for joy in the void. So, when the lockdowns started, I’d already been locked up for three years. The sad thing is, I was just starting to go out into the world and had it all taken away. Talk about a psych out. My forties can best be described as Lyme vs Pandemic. It’s like Godzilla vs King Kong only there are no winners. Actually, I haven’t seen the movie. Do they both die? Does one arise as king of the monsters? Are we talking about a Highlander situation where there can be only one?

I digress. I’m not good at keeping a weekly blog schedule. I’m not good at planning, outlining, or even thinking about six month’s worth of content. Probably because I believe in, what an ex-boyfriend once called the “Chaos Theory” –or I extrapolated the phrase from his description of how art works. The best art isn’t planned, just like the best volcanoes don’t send any warning. The best art, my ex and I long ago discussed, comes from whim, fancy, and some unexplainable pit in your metaphorical mind. I couldn’t tell you if he still believes that, but I do. I do my best work on the fly.

These days I find great benefit in focusing on the words. Even though I recently spent an entire weekend getting Midjourney to create realistic photographs of the characters from my novel-in-progress – which proves I’m still twelve years old and turning forty-nine doesn’t automatically make you an adult. When I was a kid, I used to draw pictures of the characters in my stories so this seems a logical next step.

A.I. is stupid and it’s probably going to kill us all, but it also makes this:

I wouldn’t ordinarily post photos of my secret tween-girl projects, but my imaginary protagonist boyfriend is strangely a juxtaposition of at least three former boyfriends and he seems to understand me better than they did.

I’m arriving at some interesting mid-life conclusions these days, one of which is that this blog isn’t important to anyone but me. I’m not trying to teach, but I do have a compulsion to share my observations and philosophies. Maybe more now than ever, now that I’m pushing fifty. I’ve also learned that ingenues are flukes and most people don’t get good at their craft until they’re in their forties. Something about time moving faster, or perceiving the Earth orbiting the sun two-times quicker than usual. Every wrinkle on our faces is a reminder to shit or get off the pot. I expect that in the next decade, I’ll care even less what anyone thinks and will do my greatest work. Then again, maybe I’m doing that now. I read “Steal Like an Artist” a decade ago and I’m only now internalizing it. It’s got a slow burn effect. Obscurity has benefits indeed, but so do recognition and paychecks. Either way, it’s not about being seen anymore.