Missing Art

Once upon a time, I thought of myself as an artist.  I’ve played around with a wide variety of tools and techniques over the years.  About a week ago, an image popped into my mind just as I was waking up and I saw it as a pen and ink drawing.  As I was talking to a friend who agreed to be a hand model for the piece, I realized that it has been years since I worked on anything I thought of as an art project.  Between the divorce (and subsequent dating), working 6 days a week, and learning to run, I haven’t had much time for art.  I created a piece of jewelry for friend a couple of years ago, and a handmade book/journal for my mom a year or two prior to that.  That’s it.

Of course, I’ve been writing during this time period.  Mostly blog posts, but also poetry.  I’m not certain why I don’t consider writing as art.  Maybe because the process of composing an essay is so different from the process of designing?  Poems usually come to me in a rush and as a whole, editing rarely required, so that process is different from either writing or designing.  Generally, it seems I have been crafting—creating chocolate flavors and costumes and crocheting and card-making.  These things sometimes use techniques from my various artistic endeavors, but they aren’t really art.  They rarely evoke an emotional response, which has normally been my motivation for creating art in the past.

Definitions aside, I have experienced inspiration for the first time in a very long time.  Now I’m worried that my drawing skills have deteriorated, so I’ve started making backup plans to create the image as a sculpture, possibly even as a painting.  Ah, my lack of confidence makes me want to shake myself until my eyeballs rattle.  Thank heaven for the library—I picked up a couple of drawing books, including this one, which looks like a fun way to get back to my roots.   

Doesn't it look like fun?

I’ve been working so much in other media that I haven’t done any drawing other than sketching costume or jewelry ideas in maybe a decade.  In flipping through the book, I’ve found quite a few exercises that make me nervous but also excited.  It’s tough to say how this will turn out, but I’ve got a new sketchbook and sharpened my pencils.  Now I just have to find a volunteer to be a model for my life drawings…anyone up for it?  Heck, you get naked and sit still while you’re randomly stared at for 3 hours—who WOULDN’T want to try that?

Changes keep ringing

Whew.  The new job is still awesome, but dang!  I've been soooo busy.  I am enjoying having weekends mostly free but I still don't have the interwebz in my house, so I haven't gotten around to writing anything new here.  I have finally unpacked though.  And Miss Bella is enjoying our balcony as long as the neighbor's dogs are not sharing her air.  She and I hang out there as often as we can, and I have to admit it's a marvelous place to spend an afternoon with a bottle of wine and a good book.

City Kitty keeps an eye on the passers-by

Got a new phone, which is smarter than my old phone.  As soon as I can figure out how to make it send pictures for real instead of lying to me about it, I'll post the view off the balcony.  I did get my personal library shelved, so you can admire that for the moment:

Paperbacks, over-sized, antique volumes, children's books

collections, non-fiction, misc fiction in hardback, city kitty

In other news, my good old car finally croaked.  It's been towed away, never to return.  The rubber duckie collection from the rear window is languishing in a box inside the apartment.  If anyone has a car for sale that is an automatic, less than 20 years old, less than 200,000 miles, for less than $2000, not required any serious mechanical work--please let me know!  I live about a mile from my new job, so I can walk to work (easy to get my exercise this way, too) but it would be helpful to have a way to get some cat litter home.

I know it's been a while since I posted, but you might recall that I was looking forward to spending time with a certain someone after I moved.  Well, that seems to have dissolved into a morass of anxiety, depression, lies, possibly some drugs or something--I have no clue.  Honestly, I'm not the one who is falling apart.  You can't help someone who won't talk to you. I went through an incredibly similar scenario a couple of years ago with someone else and it sucks just as much (maybe even more) this time around.  If I could borrow Jen and her buddies from "Jen" e sais quoi, I'd really appreciate it.  If a girl can't have a boyfriend, she should at least have some pals to bitch about men with, right? 

PS.  This is my 100th post!  Wo0t!!

Fear 1

I feckin' chickened out.  Got there 30 minutes late and stood outside the restaurant, looking in at a table full of people laughing, talking, eating.  Knowing that I didn't have the nerve to walk in and interrupt.  That I couldn't possibly be welcome in there.  I hugged myself tight, but just couldn't.  Take.  That.  Step.

I turned and hustled away, trying to put my arms down, struggling to look as normal as possible, hating my scaredy-cat self.  I took myself to the bookstore, since that's usually a treat, but I was on the verge of tears the whole time.  I couldn't think of anyone to contact for support or encouragement or sympathy.  So I went home.  I didn't really feel like talking to anyone anyway.

I did some cooking, which filled the house with good smells.  Then curled up with the new Charlaine Harris/Sookie Stackhouse book and my cat and some homemade cinnamon kettlecorn.  Yes, kettlecorn is completely against the rules for Primal Blueprint, but I'm on an ice cream detox and I felt the need to eat my feelings.  It worked fairly well, too.  I quit picking on myself, got some decent sleep, and am resolved to try again next month.  I do feel a bit bruised and weepy today, but I'm sure it'll be better soon.

@depression--I'm still not talking to you, so get lost.


 

Still At Large

Crazy days at work plus PMS are just a bad combination.  I’m a little surprised that I managed to keep my hands to myself yesterday.  I badly wanted to slap several people.  I mean to the point that verbally slapping them would not have been enough.  Perhaps that’s better, though.  I seem to have more control of my physical violence than of my smart mouth.

It helped that my mom sent me this:

Living in time and space just might be the scariest, most heartbreaking, and lonely path an angel could ever choose.

Until, of course, they realize that being scared doesn't mean they can't make a difference, broken hearts can still love just fine, and that feeling lonely doesn't mean they're actually alone.

Then they'll laugh an angel laugh, fluff their wings, and dare a new dare all over again.

Love your halo,
    The Universe

This was a forward from a daily email that she had signed up for, and it just happened to be exactly the sort of thing that I most wanted to hear yesterday.  On Monday, I had picked up The Daring Female's Guide to Ecstatic Living:  30 Dares For a More Gutsy and Fulfilling Life from the library.  Isn’t synchronicity fun?  The dare I read last night was about creativity, but that was more comforting than daring for me.  I suppose this blog is sort of daring in a creative way.  Most of my creations have had a pretty small audience in the past.  Trying to write in a public forum is new for me, even if it doesn’t feel very public yet.

By the way, if you want to sign up for the Notes from the Universe, you can find them here:  http://www.tut.com  Very cool stuff.

PS.  The dessert-flavored chewing gum is a grand idea, but when are they going to come out with sour cream-n-onion potato chip flavored gum?  Because today, I need both if I’m going to save myself from the cravings monster.

Infatuation

I think I’ve fallen in love with a fictional character.  Does anyone else do this?  Or is it just me?

I discovered The Dresden Files series fairly recently and listened to as many of the audiobooks as I could find in our local library system.  The guy who reads the books is absolutely perfect for the part.  He’s got the combination of sarcasm and honest feeling down pat.  I rarely purchase audiobooks, but I am seriously considering putting the whole set on my Amazon wish list so I can catch up with Harry any time I want.

I have lunch dates with Harry (I read on my lunch hour).  I look forward to spending Friday evening with him (another chance to read).  I love tall guys, but I don’t think I’ve ever gone out with someone quite that tall (he’s over 6 ½ feet tall).  Lucky for me, tall guys often like short women.  If only Jim Butcher would write faster.  Sigh.  I recently got my hands on the graphic novel, and they did an incredible job—Harry looks just like I thought he would.  Sigh again.

Realizing that the more I got to know him, the more infatuated I was becoming, I thought about why I like him so much.  Of course, there’s the tremendous smart-assery, especially in the face of danger.  I’m not sure I’d like dating someone who is that much funnier than I am, but I’d be willing to give it a try.  He loves animals, even if he wouldn’t want to admit that out loud (the scene with Mister the cat in the most recent book almost made me tear up a little).  He’s one of my favorite physical types, but that’s less important to me.  I think the real reason I find him so appealing is his need to protect and care for the people closest to him.  My general impression of men is that they are mostly selfish.  I can barely imagine what it would be like to date a guy who wanted to take care of me.  I seem to attract the “Pitiful Pete” type—the one who is always just a little worse off than I am.  If I have a headache, he has a migraine.  If I have a rough day, he has a terrible one.  No matter how much I would like some help, he needs it more.  So, yeah, that might explain why someone supportive and protective caught my attention.  And because he’s funny.  Because if you don’t have laughs, you don’t have much.

Trying Really Hard Not To Bounce In My Chair

I’M SO EXCITED!!!!!!

Sorry about the yelling, but I really am excited.  I’ve been trying to find ways to meet people and haven’t been having much luck.  Small towns are tough for that sort of thing—almost everyone you meet has friends that they’ve known since kindergarten, and kids, and husbands, and orgies that you’re not invited to, and they just don’t have time to cultivate a new acquaintance.  At least that’s what I tell myself.  It can’t just be my personality.  I’m cool, right?  A little weird, but that can be fun.  I mean, the orgy comment was fun, right?  I was only kidding—no one has told me that they can’t hang out on Saturday night because they are busy like that. 

Anyway.  The reason I’m excited is that we’re starting a book club!  The temp lady who has joined our office isn’t from around here either and we were kvetching about how hard it is to make new friends.  Turns out we both investigated the same local book club on meetup.com and were both a little put off by the fact that they charged dues AND you have to bring food.  (Too bad, too, because they have some interesting book choices…)  So we decided to start our own club!  Turns out that there are a few people who are looking for a book club that doesn’t meet in the middle of the day (hellooooooo local library clubs) and who don’t necessarily require wine and/or gourmet food in order to chat.

We’ve found a time that will work for us, picked out a first book, posted on craigslist, and passed the word to the people we know.  Now we just have to find time to read the book, come up with some discussion questions, and wait for the big day.  Wish us luck!