Noise

So. Where'd I go?  What am I doing?  Well..I'm sure as hell not blogging.  What a weird place I find myself in now.  Not bad.  Not great.  Mostly weird.

  I'm writing, in bits and more bits.  And thinking.  I'm not making much for the Etsy shop, which is going to bite me hard and soon.   Kickstart could potentially fix that.  The project page is finished except for the video, which I haven't yet begun.
 Why?  Mostly because there hasn't been any time.  It takes a lot of poppets to run this ship.  Making too many poppets for too long makes your artist somethingsomething.  And more of something.
 And let me tell you, your artist is most definitely something.
  Don't get me wrong.  I love poppets more than anyone on the planet.  Typing this cracks me up completely, because it's not hyperbole.  It's true.    
Still.
  My brain wants to stretch.     What my brain really wants to do is make a book thing.  My want to make a book-thing thing is, as I type this, kicking the everloving shit out of the back of my chair.

  How to do this?  This is indeed the ball I'm juggling.  True.  It's a pretty ball.   I'm lucky to be juggling this particular ball at the moment.  I've juggled worse.
And this isn't even the advanced class.     I'm not juggling survival issues.  I get that. 
  That said, sometimes it's hard to tell need from want when the drive to make something is screaming in my ear.  So loudly.  My hair is blowing back.  I guess it's finally tired of kicking my chair. 
  Nope.  There it goes again.

  Just try to compose a sentence with that going on.  Oh wait.  You're writers and artists with lives too.
I know you're getting this and I appreciate you for being here.  (This is where I realize I'm whining, consider deleting the whole post and decide that writing something, at least this time, is better than nothing.)

  So that's where I've been.  Trying to sort out the Rubik's Cube that is the artists' bane.  Burnout, exhaustion and frustration peppered with blinding little flashes.  The good ones.  The ones that make you sweat and pace and invade your sleep so you can't figure out how to sort ordinary things out.  And other moments too - like laughing with Aubrey on the phone, watching a storm approach.

Transitions are fucking hard.   I've been doing this stuff for a long time.  The odds are really, really good that I'll figure this thing out.   In the meantime, chipping away, without looking too far ahead.
 
  I haven't blogged because I'm  a little lost and I generally try to say helpful or at least interesting things.  This isn't facebook, after all.
  Once again, I'm forgetting both the title of this blog and the reason I started it.  I suppose I was pretty sure I wouldn't still be stumbling all this time later. But here I am.  Moments of brilliance, raisins in a big, fat muffin of silly human. 

Thanks for showing up.


photos are of "The Wishing Tree."