Portrait of a Young Woman in Oil

This portrait of a young woman was painted in oil on wood. The artwork was sent with a few other pieces to an auction that I never received a penny from.

Today began, as many recent days have, with the sound of power tools being used just beneath my bedroom floor. I tried to compensate for the insufficient sleep this caused with excess coffee. This got me through it but didn't leave me feeling great.

After completing my work, I went to the coop for a fresh juice and then to the coffee shop. Crowds of weekenders greeted me at every turn yet none of my friends were around. I ended up sitting alone on the shaded edge of a parking lot, smelling grease from a nearby food truck while I sipped my coffee. This was suboptimal.

Sitting there, I felt the full weight of all of the unresolved frustrations I'd experienced in recent weeks, most of which were the result of other people's choices. Returning home, my frustrations grew as the creation of Rstory on EOS was cancelled by the person I'd hired for the job a week ago. So I tried creating the token myself but was stymied by a permission error I didn't understand. Another friend said he might be able to help but I'm not optimistic.

Working the problem, I came across an old Reddit post suggesting new token creation must be approved by over a dozen Block Producers. If this turns out to be the case, my project is doomed, as I only know a few Block Producers and they're too busy to pay any attention at all to Rstory. Also, if this turns out to be the case, why is an old Reddit post the only place where I could find such information? Is the EOS community really that bad at communicating?

Unfortunate days like this one are challenging. And nothing suggests tomorrow will be better. My sleep will be disturbed again by the ongoing remodeling. The weather will stay too hot. Today, I let these things get to me. Hopefully tomorrow they'll have less power.

Two years ago in July, I tried to give 500 unique Rstory claim cards away at a rainbow gathering. Some people responded with disinterest. Others responded with hostility. The giveaway was a total failure and when I got home I had Lyme disease.

Last year in July, I was getting cluster headaches daily and Minneapolis looked like a war zone due to civil unrest.

This July is so far tame in comparison. Its challenges are quieter. More amorphous, perhaps. Like there's no acute crisis but everything feels up in the air, contingent on the whims of others, perpetually reminding me that my interests are irrelevant. I take solace in writing and making art. There's little else I can do.