faucets and lables

I have always enjoyed making art, but I also always enjoy installing a sink, taking a shower and making someone breakfast. Somehow, in my largely hollow mind, I concocted that being an artist was a moral and valuable endeavor. There is prestige, mystique and identity in making art, or so I thought. And I justified to myself that there is no prestige without a possibility, therefore, of tragic failure. So the pressure in my head grew, causing intense headaches and cerebral crushing...in essence retarting my limited thinking ability even furthere. But somewhere along the line I had an epiphany. I realized that I had installed many sinks that worked better than any of my art did. Pherpahs, I thought to myself, I should begin to call myself a sink installer. I realized how absurd that sounded and began to laugh at myself for what seemed to be, at minimum, two hours. I laughed at myself in the shower. I laughed at myself while dressing. I laughed at myself with brushing my teeth. I almost laughed at myself through breakfast except that I wasn't particularly hungry. Instead I decided to write this historically significant document of self-deprecation in case I ever, in the future, decide that life is tragic.

R: Negative influences like pot make it harder to see your true self.
H: well, my fake self is more popular these days.
H: Who needs a true self anyway
H: a true self is much harder to market, due to its inflexibility