How to Stop Apologizing: A Work in Progress

I've been absent and off the grid and thinking about everything else other than art and making things that make me feel things. BUT I made an exception and scrawled my 2018 New Years Resolution. Check out my past posts regarding New Years to see that I'm pretty serious about this stuff. This year I'm working on trying to stop apologizing for my existence. 

Every other word that comes out of my mouth at work is "sorry." And once I started to notice how frequently I apologize, I started to get more and more irritated with myself. Sorry to ask this question... Sorry for doing my job... Sorry for asking you to do you job... Sorry that you have to do that... Sorry that you're upset at that person... Sorry you have to work this weekend... Sorry I didn't drop everything I was working on to help you with your problem... Sorry I don't know the answer... Sorry that you lost your pencil... Sorry I'm breathing... Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

The more I say 'sorry,' the more I feel worthless. I feel like I'm taking up needed space, like I'm not good enough or worthy of anyone's time or attention. It's hard to break deeply embedded habits, so this year I researched and lettered instructions on how to work on and accomplish my resolution. 

Hope you all have a wonderful 2018! 

Breathe Deep.

I think most of the time we (as human beings) are thankful our nostrils point downwards so we can survive like, rainstorms and showers and snot, but I woke up this morning wishing (again) that I could flip my nose upside down and just really breathe in this storm that is brewing outside. 

Does anyone know what I mean? 

Anyways, someone posted this and I'll just leave it here...

Older Than Dirt

I've heard that it's all downhill after you turn 25.

Like, one day you're a youthful 24 year old who is able to touch their toes and shotgun a beer with no adverse effects and the next thing you know you're 25 and in Urgent Care being told you have carpal tunnel. Awh.

(Side note: I have never been able to touch my toes and the one time I shotgunned a beer, I absolutely hated it... but hypothetically those are cool mid-twenty activities. The carpal tunnel part is relevant to my life currently though.) 

My dad said this to me on Christmas morning after I opened some anti-aging creme I was gifted...
Subtle. Real subtle.

Granny Dani WAS my nickname (that people said behind my back) in high school so I'm not super surprised I have a soul of a 80 year old and the face of someone recently deceased.

Remember, Remember

I don't have mantras because those sound pretentious and really snotty and annoying but I do obsessively repeat words over and over trying to convince my brain to believe them. That sounds cooler, right?

These are nothing new or exciting but I had to write them out to see 👀 tonight because I was in a real bratty mood all day and I needed to get over it big time. I'm really struggling with #3 right now and that's all I'm going to say.

'Night! 

Tickets to the Gun Show

Have you ever did something as a joke but then somehow it stopped being a joke and just became a really important part of your self identity? I can't stop finger gunning everyone I see. It has become a habitual mannerism and it's so much easier than saying "hi" or "Good Morning!" or "Yo, Sup?" 

I just let my fingers do the talking and I keep walking. I kind of hate myself for being such a tool, but also, do I look really cool doing it??? Probably. 

I can't stop and honestly, I won't. Who knows, I might even make the hang loose Shaka cool again. (Or was it never not cool? I'll leave you to ponder that...)

*Finger guns* I'm out. 

Pay Attention to Me, Internet!

Super last minute banner, but gold forever.

I want to quickly say a big THANK YOU to everyone who stopped by my booth last weekend, said sweet things to me and purchased some of my weird, terrible art. It really meant so much to me. I'm truly lucky to have people care about me and to have sold so much stuff to so many nice human beings. I wanted to post a little something to show everyone who could not make it what it was all about. I plan to post my extras online to purchase. No future shows have been planned... yet.

This unflattering photo of myself looking super grumpy and chubby was posted on the internet. This is my ~true~ self. 

Got some spiral notebooks made if you're a nerd and like paper. 

At one point, a woman walked by my booth was was like "whoa, someone likes cacti..." and I was like, yeah I'm trying to appeal to a desert-based dynamic... and she laughed. I just feel like I need to clarify that I do like other things other than cacti... I am painting a lot of prickly things because one, you see cacti products EVERY WHERE and no one accurately represents them like I attempt to and two, right now if it has a cactus on it, people will buy it. It's like Portlandia's "Put a Bird on It" mentality. Put a cacti on it... and sold! 

I love cacti though, so the woman was not wrong.

This is Emily and Spencer's cat, Opie. He seems to be a fan of my work, and heck, I'm a big fan of his.

After working at a stationery company for a year and a half and printing and assembling thousands and thousands of notepads, I of course had to sell my own.

I made my first run of "Crap to Buy," "Shit to Do," and "Bitches to Call" notepads back in college. They were all letterpressed and super time consuming. I wanted to make more for this show, so I found a pad vendor and ordered them... This is the only pad style they would print for me because my other designs were "too vulgar." Like, the company's CEO refused to. LOL. Okay!

I made this pattern so long ago but never had it printed and it is so pink and happy and thats so different from how I feel, but I really love it. Peonies, by the way.

Can I plug Ikea bags for a second? I use them for everything. Everything. I think I have like, 4 in my car right now. They are huge and durable and look, they hold a ton of pillows.

I made little dish towels with my patterns on them and they sold out the first day so I had to go home and sew up a bunch more! Who knew you guys like washing your dishes so much? 

I also got to meet and hang out with a bunch of really cool vendors and they were all so nice to me and I want to hug them forever? Regina Lord was one of those talented vendors and I bought her cute little Frida mirror and this too true pin that I immediately put on my knapsack. Her illustrations are so beautiful and I can't wait to buy more. 

So cool/so weird to see people like my stuff in real life. I'm very surprised to see my "art" making people happy, it's very surreal and wow. Crying. 

Last thing: Emily Orzel, my dear friend, brought me these beautiful prints and I'm so in love. She is selling her work at Tucson's MOCA and that's a VERY big deal and I am so happy. Nothing better than seeing people you love doing amazing things. 

Thanks again, everyone! ♥  ♥  ♥ 

Okay! Enough about me, let's focus on Childish Gambino and collectively count down to his new album drop in 21 days!!!!!!!! Lemme just play this over and over until I go deaf. 

!!!

I always feel super uncomfy asking people to come to my art shows because I'm essentially selling myself to a bunch of strangers and that's a pretty weird thing to come watch. I mean I'm fully clothed, but still. Anyways! I'm officially inviting you (the Internet) to my art show this weekend so you can like, uh, come buy my art. 

Give me your money and I'll give you stickers, pillows, tea towels, notepads, notebooks, postcards, art prints, and other stuff too. 

Harlow Gardens Holiday Marketplace. Saturday 9-5pm, Sunday 9-3pm. 5620 E. Pima.

(At least I'm honest, right?) 

Too Fly

  

Happy Halloween, you cuties! What's my go-to Halloween move? I just think of the dumbest thing I can possibly think of and then BE that. This year? Venus Fly Trap. (Or green tacos with teeth as some people at work thought...) Pretty dorky, but also pretty fun to make. Just got card stock and freehanded some venus-esque shapes, cut them out, painted them, added some super silly flies and then pinned them to my body/giant head. The key to a good costume is to not make any part of your Halloween costume sexy; try to be as repulsive as you can to the opposite sex. 

My second go-to move? Watch Halloween and eat candy and never sleep because I'm convinced Michael Meyers is coming for me. 

Enjoy your night! 

Long Live Linen!

I got a box full of linen canvas in the mail yesterday. Oh! And it all just happened to also have some of my art printed on it. What. Thanks, Spoonflower! 

Working with textiles is my dream. There is something about seeing your work on cloth that just makes it feel... substantial? 

One week until my art show and I'm trying to not panic. I ran into a few obstacles with some of the vendors that I am working with but for now, I'm going to just drape myself in linen and pretend everything is going to be alright. 

I never want to be right.
Thanks linen for being such a breathable, classy fabric.  

PS. I have spent a lot of money getting fabric printed a lot of different places and honestly, Spoonflower KILLS it. With other print shops, the colors are way off, the images are grainy, the fabric is too wide of a gauge and eats the pattern up. Never have I ever had a problem with Spoonflower. Beautiful and accurate every damn time.

PPS. Baby Danielle from 1998 wants to wants to wish you a Happy Halloween!

Never not had chubby cheeks, crazy hair or weird glasses. 

My friend from forever sent me this picture randomly when she was back home visiting her family and I just wanted to share it because I see a lot of 2016 Danielle potential in there. Like, I feel like I make that same face at work every time I feel awkward and shy. Awh. Also, never was I ever cute. 

Sweet Nothings

My favorite part of the weekend is the part where I spend the majority of my 48 hours of freedom sitting and doing absolutely nothing. I feel semi jipped weekend-wise because I have been super busy these past couple days. (Ugh, popularity!)

No, I had a good weekend filled with lots of art shows and open studios and my best friend's birthday party. I ate way too much good stuff this weekend too, like I ate an illegal amount of cake, I don't want to talk about it.

I went to the grocery store Saturday night and the cashier said the weirdest thing about my hair. I'm not surprised because almost everyday someone says something poopy about my hair, but I honestly had no idea how to react to this one...

Word for word quote. The young man had a way with the English language, that's for damn sure. 

A mullet?!? C'mon. No. 

Ugh. It's cool, you guys can keep calling me Amy Winehouse and asking if I ever done my hair "normally," I'll just be over here crying and keeping all my rude comments to myself because I'm decent and have manners. 

I must be sort of special to warrant constantly receiving the strangest, most honest observations about my appearance and/or self worth/character. Like, a bad kind of special, ya know? 

A random coworker said I should shed my current personality because it's much too high strung and stressful. Awh! Romantic. Will do. 

People are the BEST. Keep saying the weirdest things to me, guys. It's working.

The best photo background ever. The subject matter? Debatable. 

Weekly Briefing

Hi! I promised an update and I'm not known for breaking promises, so here it goes! 

I went up to Michigan a couple weeks back and visited my Nonno and Nonna and all my aunts and uncles and cousins and I got the chance to dive into some really hilarious photos. If you're wondering where I got all my good looks from, just check out the gene pool I'm swimming in. (Oh my god, I am joking. I look like an actual alien.) Style and big hair evidently runs deep in the DeLorenzo bloodline... as does male premature balding. (Sorry Nonno, sorry Dad.) 

I haven't seen many photos of my dad as a human baby child so it's pretty amazing to realize he had a life before I existed?! Like what? The world doesn't revolve around me? People's lives had purpose and meaning before 1991? Insane. 

These poster size pictures are hanging in my Nonno and Nonna's basement and they are priceless. My dad is the second to the left. Nonno cut all of his children's hair and I think that's very important to remember when looking at these photos. 

Anyways my trip was very ~emotional~ and sad and tough, but it was very much needed and I am grateful I was able to take some days off and make it happen. 

Here is a photo of baby Danielle and it looks like I'm trying to make out with my dinner.
This seems to explain myself more than words ever could.

A quick watercolor study of a jolly rancher. I eat way too much candy at work. 

Sneak peak at something I will be selling soon! Vinyl stickers!
Super amazing quality and color and I'm in love?! Like, so in love that I'm no longer interested in boys.
Currently seeking partnership with stickers of my own illustrations. Serious inquiries only. 

I have an art show in less than a month and I'm bugging out! I bought my table space back in May and I have nothing to sell but my own soul. I usually work well under the pressure of a deadline but I'm actually nervous. I'll be fine, probably. Maybe. Eh. We'll see.

xoxo.

Oh! And P.S.

Obviously I got my new computer! I was way excited and then I looked at my credit card statement and was way less excited. But my baby is bigger and better than ever and I'm so glad I spent so much money on a portable Netflix viewing machine. 

I also found a free Xerox machine on the side of the road!? It ended up costing me some blood (long story) but ultimately the owner was trashing a perfectly functioning copier. (This makes me sound like a weird street rat hoarder, but I have never gathered other people's garbage before... just a FYI.) I wouldn't say it was fate, but god damn, it was a very lucky coincidence that my eyes left the road briefly enough to see this beauty parked by the street. I go to Kinkos (or FedEx Office as the young people say) an insane amount of times to print art related stuff. Like so much so that the employees knew me and my life story-- it was weird. Now I can copy my face in the luxury of my own home. 

Rewatched one of my top TV show, Freaks and Geeks, and this has got to be my favorite quote. It applies to boys too, duh. 

World Mental Health Day

Pick Me Up
(But seriously, I have given up on knowing what is coming up next.)

Hey there! Sorry for the lack of updates, it's not because there is a lack to update you all about. Things have happened, promise. More on that later.

Wanted to quickly post about World Mental Health Day because well... it's important. To me and to a lot of my loved ones. 

A ton of people comment that I'm pretty open about "what's wrong with me" and they are usually surprised (that I am willing to talk about it, not that I have a disease. That's obvious haha.) Mental health has a stigma and it's so awkward and weird to talk about. Like, if you have any sort of mental issue, people assume you're a psychopath. My brain's not healthy, but it's not all bad. Anyways... after silently suffering for a long time, being open about the downs in my life has really helped me connect with others and more importantly, my own self and my own truth. That sounds lame, I get it, but I don't think there is a way to make that sound hip or cool, so I am just leaving it. 

Art has always been a therapeutic experience for me (duh!,) especially hand lettering. Even though I have recently lost a lot of motivation and I have been described by some to "be in a rut," I am still really trying to make things whenever I have the mental energy. 

Last week I got Adam J. Kurtz's new book, Pick Me Up and honestly... the man can do no wrong. I have been ~mildly~ obsessed with him since college and wow, him making a feelings journal is basically dreams coming true. I have been forcing myself to sit down and draw or write at least once a day and I have been enjoying myself. (Side note: wow, what an eloquent book review.) 

I also sat down and made this quickly. It's a random quote I read somewhere that I typed into the notes on my phone (sorry, no source?!) but I obviously connected with it. This is not a call for help, so don't freak out. Like, seriously, I'm cool guys. 

Anyways, let's all be nice to each other and smile more and also be open to talking about all the feelings that we're feeling. It's okay to not feel okay. It's okay to be sad. 

XOXO,

D

This is another quote I made real, real quick. It's from Shameless when that drunk professor schools Lip on life. He says "We only have two jobs on this Earth: to learn and to cope." Ain't that the truth?

My Week In Review

Quick, messy gouache doodles.

I've been having a weird past couple weeks. They've been really frustrating and embarrassing and awkward and... sweaty? (Sweat seems to be a strong theme, awesome.) Doodled out some of my anger this afternoon instead of taking a rage nap and I feel a lot better. Like, obviously more sleepy but not as mad.

No real way to explain the random bits and pieces I illustrated above other than to dive right in? Here are a few quick snippets of my bizarre week:

• I was driving to work at like 5 am and I pass a cemetery and I notice a lady taking a shit on a grave stone. Why? Also: seeing a middle age butt that early in the morning is not ideal.
• Talked to a jabroni at work and he said I didn't look Italian except for my hairy arms. So romantic and sweet of him. Not at all self conscious now. (Silver lining? I don't get cold easily. Also, clearly it's a conversation starter.)
• Developed a sweet sweat mustache that just seems to permanently rest on my upper lip. Thanks, humidity, you're a bitch. #realwomensweat
• Really wanted to flip off almost everyone I interacted with this week but very thankful for my self control and vivid imagination.
• Had a panic attack during work today because something triggered me and I couldn't breathe. I was cold sweating like a son of a gun and had to go to the bathroom to dry my armpits under the hand dryers in there. Side note: this was incredibly effective. Second side note: I know hand dryers are germ traps from hell but my armpits were a lost cause at this point. 

Also got called 'eccentric' today by a stranger, so thumbs up forever for being the weirdest human being alive without even trying.

One Fourth Done

I try not to delve into personal matters on this platform, and I promise to not let this happen often, but I figured this is a pivotal point in my life and I should open up in case others feel similar ways about growing older. I want to be transparent about my insecurity with my age and my failure to measure up to the goals I set for myself and my career because I think we all glamorize what our lives actually are like. Like most people, I only present the positive aspects of myself online. You guys get to see the fun projects I am working on only when I choose to show you the fun projects I am working on. I don't post the tedious, frustrating freelance projects that are totally not my ~style~ that I'm totally not proud of (but that pay the bills) because I don't want you guys to see that stuff. You guys don't get to see all the ripped out sketchbook pages and all the hours I sit at my make-shift desk beating myself up for not being original or talented enough. That's just gross. I don't need anyone to pity myself as much as I already do. I don't want to be defined by that.

The point is, we are all so much more than the 2D, filtered version we post online. Our Instagrammed versions of ourselves are so colorful and perfectly cropped that you don't get to see the stained, hole-y sweatpants that are our actual lives. I love sweatpants! I love their comfortable practicability. I love the awkward, uncomfortable shame we feel when we wear them outside of the house- out of our comfort zone. I'm actually talking about my love for lounge wear while also talking about revealing vulnerable truths about our secret selves. Get it guys? C'mon. I was almost a nonfiction minor in college, metaphors are my bitches.

Just kidding, I dropped out of my writing classes because my classmates and teachers thought I was too depressing BUT I truly do love investigating why we are all the way we are. Why we see the world in whatever color glasses we chose to wear. Below is a little bit about myself that may explain better about who I am as a creative agent and as a regular old human being.

On the 4th of July, I turned 25 and I'm officially 1/4th of a century old. Ew. My. God.

I have always had a love/hate relationship with my birthday. They seemed magical when I was young (and when I thought the fireworks were for me) but as I got older, they felt way less special because I guess I realized I was way less special. That's how it is when your birthday is on a holiday. It's not really YOUR day, it's everyone's. It's not about you, it's about other peoples fun vacations and family gatherings and parties. And that's okay! That's how it should be! It never felt right to dictate what people should do on their day off just because I was born however many years ago that same day.

Independence Day is just like any other day of the year to a wrinkly, unborn baby who doesn't understand that the 4th of July is a drunkenly fun, sweaty holiday. I feel like I should make that clear because unborn baby Danielle didn't really choose to pop out with fireworks. A lot of people "oooooh" and "ahhhhh" about my birth date. A lot more people think I'm making it up- hospitals obviously don't deliver babies on national holidays! Absurd! And a few select call me "a little firecracker" or "Ms. Independence" or some other blush worthy nickname. Acquaintances comment that it's great to be born on a holiday because they'll always remember that that is my day. Awh, cute. But not the actual case, homies.

Although all the important people in my life remember my date of birth, a lot of people I wish did, don't. They are too busy entering hot dog eating contests or slurping watermelon slices or wearing patriotic clothing. My entrance into this Earthly whelm slips their mind because they are having so much fun celebrating America's freedom and enjoying their 3 day weekend and I'm honestly totally fine with that. It's nice that my DOB is associated with a carefree, glutinous day of the year. And no matter how much I try to deny that my birth date has any impact on who I actually am, it totally, completely does.

As a stubbornly firm believer of zodiac signs and astrology and personalities sculpted by the stars, I relish the idea that I have no control of who I am. That sounds bad but what I mean is that I love that I'm a crabby Cancer sign that hides in her shell of her home, who is protective over the ones that she loves, who puts up a hard exterior but is mushy, overly compassionate and sentimental as all hell deep down. I love that my best friend was born a day before me and my father was born a week after. I love that I'm surrounded by people who possess the same personality traits as me and understand who I am without really trying. And at the same time, it's hard. When more outgoing, loud, extroverted people don't get why I need to stay home and unwind after a day of work or socializing, I'm seen as boring or not fun. (I am both, but can't a girl have the benefit of some mystery?) When I am rerunning seemingly meaningless conversations in my head days after they happen, people say I'm obsessive or crazy but don't notice that I just really, really care about everyone I interact with. When people say I'm "short with them" or overly sarcastic, or just plain mean (LOL!) they don't see it as a defense mechanism to protect my overly sensitive self. I'm not complicated, I'm a textbook Cancer.

And since I'm overly analytical and "in my head" too much, I am hard on myself. I am no doubt a totally imperfect person. And I am no doubt my own, least favorite fan. But by not liking myself, I can motivate myself to be better than what I currently am. It's a tough pill to swallow when you're older than you ever thought you'd live to be. I never imagined being alive in my mid-twenties so picturing what I should be is really hard. I can only compare myself to the people who surround me and the people who surround me are really great, and really successful. Growing older and hitting "landmark" birthdays when you are no where as stable as your loved ones is just... annoying. I don't feel like celebrating my birth when I feel like I haven't accomplished anything worth celebrating. Everyone says age doesn't matter, but everyone also asks how old you are. And they automatically judge where you are in life and how successful you are based on their expectations and own experiences. It's human nature. We make life a competition and nobody wants a loser on their relay team.

I am a work in progress and I am a mess of puzzle pieces that are soggy and don't fit together. I am 25 now and I am trying not to barf every time I say that out loud. I am trying to let go of other people's expectations for myself and trying to make up my own to live up to. I am not defined by my age, my resume or where I have lived. 

Although I may hate my birthday and hate growing older, I am forever grateful that I was born on a day that celebrates independence. A day where we stood strong even though we stood alone. I don't like being held to expectations but I think it has set a nice precedent for my life.

Coming soon!

You guys ready for my mini-collection of art prints for Haute Papier? Available after the National Stationery Show at the end of May!