Reading. Different books in different rooms, me following the light. Some time spent outside with plants. I was quiet. They were quiet. We got along. I'm in the mood to make something gnarly. A couple of commissions in line first. But, fun to think about gnarly things along the way.
Cocooning in a sense, storing up energy for tomorrow. Not a single interesting thing to report because today the brain is feeding.
A brain's gotta eat. If you want to test that, go ahead. I promise you, it'll let you know. And probably not in a pleasant way. Humans need down time. Need as in necessity.
Hope you find some for yourself and soon.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Day 54
Oddly, I felt somewhat better today. I'm moving a little slowly, drinking a hot tea remedy that Chari sent me from Sri Lanka. Chari Godakanda is reponsible for creating prints for us. He's a professional photographer and quite talented and he treats our projects with the care he treats his own. We adore him because he's also the kind of human who sends healing tea when he hears we're sick. If you're looking for a fine art printer for your art projects, consider TheStudio .
Photo 15: Still, a bit more work on the sculpture. Wet paper won't stick to bare wire, so I wrap all the wire with strips of masking tape. I like using really wide tape, but for some applications, the narrow stuff is better.
Photo 16: I've decided that I want the five branches to sprout additional ones, so I wrap more wire around the taped ones and extend them.
Photo 17: Now I wrap the smaller branches with tape as well, taping over the wire twisted over the additional branches. At this point, I can still bend the branches into position, but the additions are solid and won't twist.
Photo 15: Still, a bit more work on the sculpture. Wet paper won't stick to bare wire, so I wrap all the wire with strips of masking tape. I like using really wide tape, but for some applications, the narrow stuff is better.
Photo 16: I've decided that I want the five branches to sprout additional ones, so I wrap more wire around the taped ones and extend them.
Photo 17: Now I wrap the smaller branches with tape as well, taping over the wire twisted over the additional branches. At this point, I can still bend the branches into position, but the additions are solid and won't twist.
Photo 18: Now the armature is done, I start the paste. I use a mix of all purpose flour, water and carpenter's glue. Some people put salt in the mix as a preservative. I don't because the salt tends to burn my hands--especially now that I have a devil cat in the house--and I usually only make enough for a session. Still, I find that if I have some left it keeps very well for a few days in the fridge. More than three days though, it can start to look like a really nasty science project. More than a week and it will smell like one too.
The carpenter's glue isn't necessary, but I find it adds strength and makes the mix smoother and more plastic. It's cheaper if you buy it by the gallon.
The carpenter's glue isn't necessary, but I find it adds strength and makes the mix smoother and more plastic. It's cheaper if you buy it by the gallon.Photo 19:
I don't measure--sorry! But the end mixture is a lot like pancake batter---maybe a little thinner. If you have lumps (and, you will) just let the mix sit for about 10 minutes, then they'll stir out easily.
I don't measure--sorry! But the end mixture is a lot like pancake batter---maybe a little thinner. If you have lumps (and, you will) just let the mix sit for about 10 minutes, then they'll stir out easily.Photo 20: I start by brushing the entire body with paste.
I'm going to use a recycled phone book for the first few layers. It's really handy to brush layers on, decoupage style, and tear sheets off with my wet fingers. Phone book paper isn't much thicker than tissue and works well for this step.
Photo 21: I don't need to fill in the body. Paper mache dries very hard and strong. Remember your first experience with papier mache? It probably involved a balloon. But I will fill this one in to add weight. This is especially important for sculptures with delicate tops. Paper is heavy and I use a lot of it, compressed tightly, for the bottom of the piece. Sometimes, for larger works, I'll include a block of wood for the base. This ensures the finished work will be stable and not prone to tipping over.
Photo 23: I use these initial layers to suggest the shapes of the branches. This is where I'm most aware that I'm working with "mashed paper" as the wet layers are very pliable and I can shape them with my fingers, even to make fine creases with sharp, curved edges that work with my tendency to mix clean edges with organic curves. Even now, this sculpture begins to look like I made it.
Photo 24: Where I stopped today, as the light faded very fast once the sun went behind the mountains.
Photo 25: I put the sculpture outside. It's not hot, but it is the desert and the dry air will work on it tonight.
I'm going to use a recycled phone book for the first few layers. It's really handy to brush layers on, decoupage style, and tear sheets off with my wet fingers. Phone book paper isn't much thicker than tissue and works well for this step.
Photo 21: I don't need to fill in the body. Paper mache dries very hard and strong. Remember your first experience with papier mache? It probably involved a balloon. But I will fill this one in to add weight. This is especially important for sculptures with delicate tops. Paper is heavy and I use a lot of it, compressed tightly, for the bottom of the piece. Sometimes, for larger works, I'll include a block of wood for the base. This ensures the finished work will be stable and not prone to tipping over.It takes a long time for this to dry, so I do it in stages, adding a couple of inches to the inside at every stage of working.
Photo 22: Here's where I have to decide where the arms will be positioned and choose the arrangement of the branches. Once these first layers are dry, the branches will be fairly rigid.
Photo 22: Here's where I have to decide where the arms will be positioned and choose the arrangement of the branches. Once these first layers are dry, the branches will be fairly rigid.
Photo 23: I use these initial layers to suggest the shapes of the branches. This is where I'm most aware that I'm working with "mashed paper" as the wet layers are very pliable and I can shape them with my fingers, even to make fine creases with sharp, curved edges that work with my tendency to mix clean edges with organic curves. Even now, this sculpture begins to look like I made it.
Photo 24: Where I stopped today, as the light faded very fast once the sun went behind the mountains.
Photo 25: I put the sculpture outside. It's not hot, but it is the desert and the dry air will work on it tonight.
Now I shall go and have a bit more of Chari's rich tea, both earthy and spicy. It smells and tastes like goodness. I'm fairly certain Monsanto had nothing to do with it. Thanks, Chari.
Day 53
Was spent in bed. The bronchitis that seemed to be going away snapped back like Balrog's whip and pulled Aubrey first and then me, back into misery. What the hell?
It's hard not to be angry. The first thing the recession took was my gardener. Then almost every other little 'extra' I enjoyed, but finally, it took my medical insurance. I can do without the extras. I've learned to live very frugally. But this is when it hits hard. I've been watching this thing from the beginning, seeing more and more people lose the quality of life they worked so hard for. And being one of them.
Maybe I should get good and mad. Maybe it will burn out the fluff, get me hard and focused.
On top of it, I've been looking into our food situation. I was concerned about every product I buy having corn syrup in it, and little nutrition. So I started digging on the web and, stuck in bed all day 52, watching some documentaries. Ignorance is bliss. The thing that really GETS me is that I can choose to pull my antennae in and live there. Or I can know we can't even trust fresh vegetables. I don't really want to know this. But you can't un-ring a bell.
Too late. I'm there. Look around if you dare. Start here: Terminator Gene
Or don't. It's up to you.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Day 52
Here begins a behind the scenes look at the making of a papier mache poppet sculpture. This is what I did to get started:
Photo 01: I have a left over holiday gift box. Any light cardboard will do. Cookie and cereal boxes are the right weight. Wide tape (masking tape is good too) scissors and a roll of bailing wire that can be found at any hardware store.
Photo 02: I open the box and trim it to make neat squares, saving the edges for later.
Photo 03:I roll the first rectangle into roughly a cone, which works well for Poppets. Secured with tape.
Photo 04: I've used the edges to shape the characteristic sharp crease of the poppet's robe and used other strips of edge to reinforce the bottom. I've folded the edges to make it sit flat.
Photo 05: This face is cast in resin from a mold of an original sculpted face. I could also choose to make a new face from clay, or create one from paper mache later.
Photo 06: I'll need to secure the face to the body, so I use a length of bailing wire bent so that the curve fits into the hollow back of the face.
Photo 07: I secure the wire by mixing 2 part casting resin without any sort of filler (e.g. marble chips)
Photo 08: When the resin cures, it becomes opaque.
Photo 09: I use the wire to secure the face to the body shape. The inch or so of wire will serve as a neck armature that I can bend once I decide the figure's expression. I've also attached wire for the arms. 
Photo 10: I plan for this particular figure to have branches for 'hair.' It will be a Spring piece and I want five major branches. I know this because of past experience. I also know that if I make five major branches, I can twist and add other smaller branches from these if I want to. Or not, if I don't.
Photo 11: Back to pouring resin. I've left enough depth from the first pour to secure the armature for branches, so I repeat the 1 to 1 casting resin mix.
Photo 12: Here you can see the resin becoming opaque as it cures. It gives off fumes, so I pour this in the garage studio under hooded vent.
Photo 13: almost completely cured. The curing takes about 5 minutes. In summer, it can be as fast as 30 seconds. The mess-ups in hot weather can be spectacular and cartoon-y---drips cured literally in mid-pour. Also with cussing.
Photo 14: This is where I left off. Now I have an armature ready to start building from.
Photo 01: I have a left over holiday gift box. Any light cardboard will do. Cookie and cereal boxes are the right weight. Wide tape (masking tape is good too) scissors and a roll of bailing wire that can be found at any hardware store.
Photo 02: I open the box and trim it to make neat squares, saving the edges for later.
Photo 03:I roll the first rectangle into roughly a cone, which works well for Poppets. Secured with tape.
Photo 04: I've used the edges to shape the characteristic sharp crease of the poppet's robe and used other strips of edge to reinforce the bottom. I've folded the edges to make it sit flat.
Photo 05: This face is cast in resin from a mold of an original sculpted face. I could also choose to make a new face from clay, or create one from paper mache later.
Photo 06: I'll need to secure the face to the body, so I use a length of bailing wire bent so that the curve fits into the hollow back of the face.
Photo 07: I secure the wire by mixing 2 part casting resin without any sort of filler (e.g. marble chips)
Photo 08: When the resin cures, it becomes opaque.
Photo 09: I use the wire to secure the face to the body shape. The inch or so of wire will serve as a neck armature that I can bend once I decide the figure's expression. I've also attached wire for the arms. This is a step where a few decisions have to be made. For instance, if the figure will be holding something (like a balloon) this is where the armature for that must be completed.
I'm not planning anything long or large here, but I leave a few extra inches at the ends of the arms so that I have the option later.
This part was learned by trial and error, mostly error, with cussing.
Photo 10: I plan for this particular figure to have branches for 'hair.' It will be a Spring piece and I want five major branches. I know this because of past experience. I also know that if I make five major branches, I can twist and add other smaller branches from these if I want to. Or not, if I don't.
Photo 11: Back to pouring resin. I've left enough depth from the first pour to secure the armature for branches, so I repeat the 1 to 1 casting resin mix.
Photo 12: Here you can see the resin becoming opaque as it cures. It gives off fumes, so I pour this in the garage studio under hooded vent.
Photo 13: almost completely cured. The curing takes about 5 minutes. In summer, it can be as fast as 30 seconds. The mess-ups in hot weather can be spectacular and cartoon-y---drips cured literally in mid-pour. Also with cussing.
Photo 14: This is where I left off. Now I have an armature ready to start building from. More later. Hope you enjoyed this part. Questions and comments very welcomed!
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
Day 51
A karate lesson is just about enough time to make a drawing in my notebook.
Aubrey gave me a new notebook for my birthday in December. It has the same brown textured paper I like, but no lines. Which means I tend to draw more and write less. Not a terrible thing.
Soosi makes me think of time travel. I could blame poppets. I wonder sometimes, if maybe there are really only about a thousand cats in the world at any given time. When your cat is out of sight, maybe she is actually somewhere/when else.
After all, in a manner of speaking, out of sight is out of existence.
Another evening of tired. Possibly a day off is in the near future. I dream of a day of reading on the sofa. It could happen.
wishing you a good night.
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Day 50
I've uploaded a bunch of photos for a tutorial on the making of a papier mache poppet sculpture. But I'm tired and it's nearly midnight and I'm going to bed.
I seem to be saying that a lot lately, that I'm tired. Well, it's true. Life hasn't been so easy these last months and I'm trying very hard to make things better.
I figure it makes perfect sense to be tired and I'm certain that I'm in a lot of really good company, not to mention one weary little hobbit, who seems to be teaching a lot about perseverance to a little boy and his mother.
So, to all of you who are tired from keeping on, Iwish you rest and renewal to wake up and go again tomorrow. I'll be right there with you.
g'night
Monday, February 07, 2011
Day 49
New Rule for Palm Springs: If women must wear shirts in public, then so should men. Your boobs are as big as ours, and not nearly as attractive. gah.
Yes. Unexpected shirtless humans today. Too many humans here today, though I can't say I blame them for visiting. I feel somewhat guilty that the weather is so warm here, when so much of everywhere is freezing. But then, I didn't make the weather---then again, I sort of did, along with a lot of help from other humans. I also suspect that given this now, in a few months when it's temperate everywhere else, we shall be burning in our own desert version of hell.
It was a long day today. Not a bad one, but one of moving fast from one thing to another without stopping much at all. Will tell you about it tomorrow.
It was very warm, which likely seems strange to most of you, and I need sleep now, so I can get up and go again tomorrow.
wishing you well,
g'night
Yes. Unexpected shirtless humans today. Too many humans here today, though I can't say I blame them for visiting. I feel somewhat guilty that the weather is so warm here, when so much of everywhere is freezing. But then, I didn't make the weather---then again, I sort of did, along with a lot of help from other humans. I also suspect that given this now, in a few months when it's temperate everywhere else, we shall be burning in our own desert version of hell.
It was a long day today. Not a bad one, but one of moving fast from one thing to another without stopping much at all. Will tell you about it tomorrow.
It was very warm, which likely seems strange to most of you, and I need sleep now, so I can get up and go again tomorrow.
wishing you well,
g'night
Sunday, February 06, 2011
Day 48
Everything seemed so blue today. The light quality. Our own Misty Mountains, where last week we watched the wind blow the dry snow up like sea spray over the ridges. So I painted things in blues, and actually today went into the greenhouse and picked up a little, looked around wistfully and entertained thoughts of starting it up again for spring.
The Super Bowl was today. I don't know who won. I didn't watch the game. It's not my thing, football. It never was. But I don't hate football. I'm indifferent to it. It's outside of my radar. That's okay. In this life, there is time for anything, but not time for everything. We choose. I did. And my choices didn't happen to include football. It's the choices that divide us into groups and sets and sub sets. And that's okay too, at least it makes conversation a bit easier.
I tend to like wizards instead, and a great many other things. I wonder if I'd watch football if the players were wizards?
Orion and I didn't finish the last chapter of The Hobbit tonight. He was simply too tired at bedtime, already yawning and nodding off before I even opened the book. Today was like spring outside and there was quite a bit of running around. Saturday, February 05, 2011
Day 47 (and a nod to 46)
Day 46 was the first of working all day in the studio for some weeks now. Just working quietly. I didn't even put on music for some reason. Likely as interesting to watch as grass growing. But there were things going on in my head--sort of a counterpoint to what was going on with my hands. And things were made.
Yesterday was chilly all day. Today was like spring. The desert is fickle and fast. As I drove along meandering curves between manicured lawns, golf greens and duck ponds, I had one of those odd out-of -context moments. All day it had felt like Sunday. Don't know why. But suddenly, rounding a curve of particularly colorful flowers I realized it was Saturday. It was a Saturday afternoon and I was a woman driving along to shopping in a pretty, peaceful place with plenty of weekend to spare. It was a moment without attachments, a warm yuppie sort of surface fuzzy that brought thoughts of latte and bookstores. Ahhh. a little Calgon soak in the shallow end. I could live here!
It didn't last. As soon as I became aware of my escape, I became aware that escaping is a choice. That there were layers of awareness underneath this simple, pleasant one, from the challenges in my own situation to the volatile states of too many systems to name. One could drown in the depths--- Egypt, Africa, world economies, climate change, hate, ignorance, my friend who is sick, my daughter who has isolated herself. Yes, one could drown.
I can't fix the world. I can't fix the people on my own pellicle. People have to figure out things for themselves. In that way, we are each and every one of us, alike. The hardest thing in the world is to change a mind.
It's a good thing to take a break from caring sometimes. It's a good thing not to feel guilty about it too. It's impossible to get lost. The world just won't be ignored and shit happens.
Our heros are nearly at the end of this particular adventure. How suprised Orion was that our Hobbit and Dwarves didn't have to battle Smaug after all. Things often take surprising turns and, as we saw tonight, the Arkenstone became a unexpected tool for negotiating peace.
I wish you balance, between the dark and the light, between warm comfortable places and vast cold spaces, between curling up with hot chocolate and saving the world. It's all in there, in this human soup. The surface and the depths and all in between.
Poppets like soup. Silly humans.
Yesterday was chilly all day. Today was like spring. The desert is fickle and fast. As I drove along meandering curves between manicured lawns, golf greens and duck ponds, I had one of those odd out-of -context moments. All day it had felt like Sunday. Don't know why. But suddenly, rounding a curve of particularly colorful flowers I realized it was Saturday. It was a Saturday afternoon and I was a woman driving along to shopping in a pretty, peaceful place with plenty of weekend to spare. It was a moment without attachments, a warm yuppie sort of surface fuzzy that brought thoughts of latte and bookstores. Ahhh. a little Calgon soak in the shallow end. I could live here!
It didn't last. As soon as I became aware of my escape, I became aware that escaping is a choice. That there were layers of awareness underneath this simple, pleasant one, from the challenges in my own situation to the volatile states of too many systems to name. One could drown in the depths--- Egypt, Africa, world economies, climate change, hate, ignorance, my friend who is sick, my daughter who has isolated herself. Yes, one could drown.
I can't fix the world. I can't fix the people on my own pellicle. People have to figure out things for themselves. In that way, we are each and every one of us, alike. The hardest thing in the world is to change a mind.
It's a good thing to take a break from caring sometimes. It's a good thing not to feel guilty about it too. It's impossible to get lost. The world just won't be ignored and shit happens.
Our heros are nearly at the end of this particular adventure. How suprised Orion was that our Hobbit and Dwarves didn't have to battle Smaug after all. Things often take surprising turns and, as we saw tonight, the Arkenstone became a unexpected tool for negotiating peace.
I wish you balance, between the dark and the light, between warm comfortable places and vast cold spaces, between curling up with hot chocolate and saving the world. It's all in there, in this human soup. The surface and the depths and all in between.
Poppets like soup. Silly humans.
Thursday, February 03, 2011
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
Day 43, and most of 44
A lot of you are deep in winter's weather. I hope you are well and safe and can find some beauty in the cold.
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Day 41
Mostly just a hello, still here. Watched the news today.
Why?
Poppets have ordered me to bed.
I won't argue.
g'night
Why?
Poppets have ordered me to bed.
I won't argue.
g'night
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Day 40
In some Russian folklore, ghosts are believed to linger forty days after death.
The number forty certainly plays a leading role in the Bible. Rains that lasted for forty days and nights, 40 days of prayers, 40 days in wilderness, forty days of Lent--and those are just the few that come to mind right now.
Forty weeks is about how long pregnancy lasts. Forty, well, -40 is where Fahrenheit and Celsius scales correspond. There were forty theves, and for some unlucky souls, forty lashes.
And forty is the atomic number of zirconium.
At this point, the past forty days certainly have seemed like a period of testing, though not in a Biblical sense. I'm certainly no Job. I'm not even religious. Still, today I feel as though I've been sick 'forever.' Experience tells me that this feeling generally signifies it's nearly over. I'm going to hang on to that.
Today I mostly stayed in place and made drawing after drawing of dancing poppets. I've a wedding dress to paint, with a border of dancing poppets all around the hem.
Once I got into the rhythm, the drawings came more easily and the motion of the dancers more fluid. Not to worry, I'll share. A number of the sketches will become paintings. While I was in the groove, I sketched a few bug warriors too.
Orion and I didn't check in on our heros tonight because my voice is nearly gone. But we sent them our good wishes at bedtime and vowed to be back cheering them on very soon. We managed a few rounds of Crash of the Titans at least.
This is a tough time and I thank you for your comments. They help more than you may know. I hope I've helped you through some of yours.
Time for more Theraflu and hopefully, sleep.
g'night
The number forty certainly plays a leading role in the Bible. Rains that lasted for forty days and nights, 40 days of prayers, 40 days in wilderness, forty days of Lent--and those are just the few that come to mind right now.
Forty weeks is about how long pregnancy lasts. Forty, well, -40 is where Fahrenheit and Celsius scales correspond. There were forty theves, and for some unlucky souls, forty lashes.
And forty is the atomic number of zirconium.
At this point, the past forty days certainly have seemed like a period of testing, though not in a Biblical sense. I'm certainly no Job. I'm not even religious. Still, today I feel as though I've been sick 'forever.' Experience tells me that this feeling generally signifies it's nearly over. I'm going to hang on to that.
Today I mostly stayed in place and made drawing after drawing of dancing poppets. I've a wedding dress to paint, with a border of dancing poppets all around the hem.
Once I got into the rhythm, the drawings came more easily and the motion of the dancers more fluid. Not to worry, I'll share. A number of the sketches will become paintings. While I was in the groove, I sketched a few bug warriors too.
Orion and I didn't check in on our heros tonight because my voice is nearly gone. But we sent them our good wishes at bedtime and vowed to be back cheering them on very soon. We managed a few rounds of Crash of the Titans at least.
This is a tough time and I thank you for your comments. They help more than you may know. I hope I've helped you through some of yours.
Time for more Theraflu and hopefully, sleep.
g'night
Friday, January 28, 2011
Day 39
I look in the mirror and I see that I'm getting older. Not for the first time, it occurs to me that I may not reach the goals I've set for myself. I may not have the career I'd planned on. I may not make the art I want to. I may not have the love or life or the smell of the sea. For the longest time, I was sure they would come. For a short while, the plan seemed to be working, the goals attainable, the love, the life and the smell of the sea very near.
I wonder how much a part The Great Recession will play in this story. The Great Depression destroyed the parents of my parents. I grew up with those stories, along with salvaged bits of both implosions, relics of fine homes lost, fortunes never recovered, dreams that slipped downstream in the floods that followed.
I don't think this time even touches that one. I'm not minimizing the lives profoundly affected by the last few years. There are many. But I recognize that it had a part in the series of events that brought me from there, where I thought I was moving along according to plan, to here, which is entirely different from what I had in mind.
Thing is, I thought I was tooling along, fully invested in the belief that if I continued to work hard and be kind, success would come. Pieces would fall into the slots I'd prepared for them with audible clicks.
Now I wonder if I can learn to live in the present without that faith? Faith is exactly what it was. I believed. I did not know.
We can never know, because we can never own anything. Everything we have exacts a cost. We pay every day. Sometimes it's a little and sometimes it's everything.
Many human beings appreciate each day as it comes, outside of calming assurances that they will eventually arrive at their destinations. Children live freely, presently, at least until they're taught otherwise. They live in the pure light of wonder before context and linear thinking take over. Their world is not ours.
I may not get what I want. Huh. Didn't expect that. What I want is a something that I created. What I want is a construct, made of context and linear thinking, fed by second-hand values and glued together with promises of shiny bits. I can let it go. Is giving it up different from giving up? Knowing the difference is right on the tip of my tongue.
These are the things I've been thinking today. I'm better, but still coughing in spells that come suddenly and violently and leave me dizzy. Relief comes from sitting in a steamy bathroom. I'm awfully tired, inside and out. I'm taking a break from desires and plans. I'm taking a break from decisions. I'm taking a break from tomorrow.
I sound like a fool, I know, but I'm way too raw to pretend I'm anything else.
I am a shorn sheep, but dammit, I showed up. Three poppets watch from under the monitor. They tell me that showing up counts. That's one I still believe.
g'night
I wonder how much a part The Great Recession will play in this story. The Great Depression destroyed the parents of my parents. I grew up with those stories, along with salvaged bits of both implosions, relics of fine homes lost, fortunes never recovered, dreams that slipped downstream in the floods that followed.
I don't think this time even touches that one. I'm not minimizing the lives profoundly affected by the last few years. There are many. But I recognize that it had a part in the series of events that brought me from there, where I thought I was moving along according to plan, to here, which is entirely different from what I had in mind.
Thing is, I thought I was tooling along, fully invested in the belief that if I continued to work hard and be kind, success would come. Pieces would fall into the slots I'd prepared for them with audible clicks.
Now I wonder if I can learn to live in the present without that faith? Faith is exactly what it was. I believed. I did not know.
We can never know, because we can never own anything. Everything we have exacts a cost. We pay every day. Sometimes it's a little and sometimes it's everything.
Many human beings appreciate each day as it comes, outside of calming assurances that they will eventually arrive at their destinations. Children live freely, presently, at least until they're taught otherwise. They live in the pure light of wonder before context and linear thinking take over. Their world is not ours.
I may not get what I want. Huh. Didn't expect that. What I want is a something that I created. What I want is a construct, made of context and linear thinking, fed by second-hand values and glued together with promises of shiny bits. I can let it go. Is giving it up different from giving up? Knowing the difference is right on the tip of my tongue.
These are the things I've been thinking today. I'm better, but still coughing in spells that come suddenly and violently and leave me dizzy. Relief comes from sitting in a steamy bathroom. I'm awfully tired, inside and out. I'm taking a break from desires and plans. I'm taking a break from decisions. I'm taking a break from tomorrow.
I sound like a fool, I know, but I'm way too raw to pretend I'm anything else.
I am a shorn sheep, but dammit, I showed up. Three poppets watch from under the monitor. They tell me that showing up counts. That's one I still believe.
g'night
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Day 38
Today, Orion turning to wave under a beam of perfect light. This moment now burned on my retinas like an image on film.
And for a glimpse of understanding. Just a glimpse. Any more would be way too much. Nothing to do now but rest. Dinner now, and sleep until I wake on my own.
Eventually, we lose our fears. They pass like kidney stones. Nothing worth learning is easy. I remind myself that I'm human, therefore, a student.
g'night
And for a glimpse of understanding. Just a glimpse. Any more would be way too much. Nothing to do now but rest. Dinner now, and sleep until I wake on my own.
Eventually, we lose our fears. They pass like kidney stones. Nothing worth learning is easy. I remind myself that I'm human, therefore, a student.
g'night
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
36 into 37
So, here's the thing. I'm just starting to get past this horrible cold thing. I also seem to be stumbling toward the inevitable demise of yet another relationship. I don't think I've slept more than three hours in a row in a week.
But. I'm still a single parent (and all that goes with) and owner of a business (and all that goes with.)
I'm putting in studio time because (see above) quitting isn't an option. And the work is still pretty good, so there is that.
Writing here is an option, but dammit, I don't want to stop. You definitely deserve better than whining. You're here to read enlightening, uplifting words or at least arty/instructional ones and that's truly my intention. So, right now my life is difficult. I'm hurting, but I'm not dead. There's no tragedy. I'm really, really discouraged, but I'm still going.
I guess what I'm trying to say here, in real time, when I'm in the shit, is I won't give up. . I'll just keep swimming, like Dori said. She is one smart...well, she's a fish with insightful moments.
In other news, Bilbo has just found and pocketed the Arkenstone. And Smaug is on his way to wreack havoc on the lake people. It's always something.
Crying is not good when you have a cold. And reading is a blessed endeavor.
g'night
But. I'm still a single parent (and all that goes with) and owner of a business (and all that goes with.)
I'm putting in studio time because (see above) quitting isn't an option. And the work is still pretty good, so there is that.
Writing here is an option, but dammit, I don't want to stop. You definitely deserve better than whining. You're here to read enlightening, uplifting words or at least arty/instructional ones and that's truly my intention. So, right now my life is difficult. I'm hurting, but I'm not dead. There's no tragedy. I'm really, really discouraged, but I'm still going.
I guess what I'm trying to say here, in real time, when I'm in the shit, is I won't give up. . I'll just keep swimming, like Dori said. She is one smart...well, she's a fish with insightful moments.
In other news, Bilbo has just found and pocketed the Arkenstone. And Smaug is on his way to wreack havoc on the lake people. It's always something.
Crying is not good when you have a cold. And reading is a blessed endeavor.
g'night
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Day 34 and 35 too
Is about time travel. Because this is actually Day 36. If you remember, I wrote recently about continuous vs continual.
Continual wins. I set out to write something on the blog every day for a year. I'm not going to give it up because I missed two. The same applies to any goal.
In first grade, when I was learning to write sentences, I couldn't tolerate a mistake. If I made one, I'd wad up the paper from my pad and march it up to the trash can. After the third such trip, my teacher, Mrs. Yonce, snagged the wad from the trash can and gave it back to me. She told me that such perfectionism was a waste and that I'd have to smooth out the wad of paper as best I could and finish my assignment on it. To a six-year-old perfectionist, this was devastating.
In the end, I finished the assignment and handed it in, tear stains and all.
But I learned how to erase and keep going. Occasionally I have to remind myself of this lesson. Occasionally I fail. It's hard to go on, plough forward despite mistakes, failures and flaws, but it's infinitely smarter than quitting.
It's January 25th. I wonder how all those New Year's resolutions are holding up out there. We tend to refer to them as 'broken' when we slip. Possibly we should switch to another term. Got any suggestions?
Continual wins. I set out to write something on the blog every day for a year. I'm not going to give it up because I missed two. The same applies to any goal.
In first grade, when I was learning to write sentences, I couldn't tolerate a mistake. If I made one, I'd wad up the paper from my pad and march it up to the trash can. After the third such trip, my teacher, Mrs. Yonce, snagged the wad from the trash can and gave it back to me. She told me that such perfectionism was a waste and that I'd have to smooth out the wad of paper as best I could and finish my assignment on it. To a six-year-old perfectionist, this was devastating.
In the end, I finished the assignment and handed it in, tear stains and all.
But I learned how to erase and keep going. Occasionally I have to remind myself of this lesson. Occasionally I fail. It's hard to go on, plough forward despite mistakes, failures and flaws, but it's infinitely smarter than quitting.
It's January 25th. I wonder how all those New Year's resolutions are holding up out there. We tend to refer to them as 'broken' when we slip. Possibly we should switch to another term. Got any suggestions?
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Day 33
Saturday is a 'wash.'
Mostly of being miserably uncomfortable and exploiting all the aspects of cups of hot tea, which are many. There's the act of making it, the anticipation of comfort, the feel of the hot cup in one's hands, the fragrance, the steamy air to help with breathing. I found that holding the cup against my face eases pain there too. And then, there's the drinking. Aubrey is in day 11 of this awful cold/flu thing, I'm in day 6, though I don't think I have nearly as bad a case as she. Apparently this is an airbourne virus 'sweeping the desert,' even making the news.
Our hopes are tha Sunday will be better. g'night
Mostly of being miserably uncomfortable and exploiting all the aspects of cups of hot tea, which are many. There's the act of making it, the anticipation of comfort, the feel of the hot cup in one's hands, the fragrance, the steamy air to help with breathing. I found that holding the cup against my face eases pain there too. And then, there's the drinking. Aubrey is in day 11 of this awful cold/flu thing, I'm in day 6, though I don't think I have nearly as bad a case as she. Apparently this is an airbourne virus 'sweeping the desert,' even making the news.
Our hopes are tha Sunday will be better. g'night
Friday, January 21, 2011
Day 32
This morning I awake to the sound of bells. Clarion clear, not of-this-world bells, the bells of my dream world. They are otherworldly beautiful. Golden. How can one describe music in words? It's a difficult exercise. I was there again. In that place of sunlit fields and dusty roads. Azure skies and air fresh and cool. And I there, healthy, tanned and strong. But the memory vanished like smoke when I opened my eyes. I haven't been there in weeks and I begin to understand why. It's my alarm clock.
This morning was a scheduled 'sleep in' day with no alarm. The 6:45 of my usual day doesn't allow me to get to that place, or possibly doesn't allow the transition, which is the only opportunity for bringing back any sort of memory.
Today was no exception, really. I didn't bring anything back except the silent space where the music was. But that was enough at least to know I was there. But, was I? The brain is a terrible and wonderful thing. Bigger inside than out.
What is this place? I honestly don't know.
I do know that we work things out in our dreams and that my dream life has always been strong. My schedule has been off for awhile. I don't know why, but when my morning alarm sounds I awake with dread and emptiness. I must talk myself into getting up and doing the things I need to do. Mostly it's the sort of morning hurdles everyone must jump over. I'm sure you know what I mean.
So I get myself up each morning, put on the coffee and do all the things expected of me and then some. I'm a little torn, actually. Possibly it's better if I'm never reminded of this other place. But then, time spent there allows glimpses of truth that make sense.
Sigh. Here it is bedtime again. No alarm tomorrow, for it's the weekend. Perhaps I'll have another visit. Tell me, please, where do you go when you sleep? Do you frequent any particular place?
It's warm here in the desert. We're having a sort of 'false spring' with the streets dusted with pollen and trees in bloom. It could be that winter is over here, or it could get cold again and the blooms drop and we have no fruit next winter.
Just moments ago, Orion and I followed our heroes as they cowered against the Lonely Mountain, waiting for Smaug to vent his wrath and destroy them. We both have high hopes that luck will prevail and Bilbo will find a way to save them.
I wish you good dreams and that you awake with anticipation of your Saturday.
g'night
g'night
This morning was a scheduled 'sleep in' day with no alarm. The 6:45 of my usual day doesn't allow me to get to that place, or possibly doesn't allow the transition, which is the only opportunity for bringing back any sort of memory.
Today was no exception, really. I didn't bring anything back except the silent space where the music was. But that was enough at least to know I was there. But, was I? The brain is a terrible and wonderful thing. Bigger inside than out.
What is this place? I honestly don't know.
I do know that we work things out in our dreams and that my dream life has always been strong. My schedule has been off for awhile. I don't know why, but when my morning alarm sounds I awake with dread and emptiness. I must talk myself into getting up and doing the things I need to do. Mostly it's the sort of morning hurdles everyone must jump over. I'm sure you know what I mean.
So I get myself up each morning, put on the coffee and do all the things expected of me and then some. I'm a little torn, actually. Possibly it's better if I'm never reminded of this other place. But then, time spent there allows glimpses of truth that make sense.
Sigh. Here it is bedtime again. No alarm tomorrow, for it's the weekend. Perhaps I'll have another visit. Tell me, please, where do you go when you sleep? Do you frequent any particular place?
It's warm here in the desert. We're having a sort of 'false spring' with the streets dusted with pollen and trees in bloom. It could be that winter is over here, or it could get cold again and the blooms drop and we have no fruit next winter.
Just moments ago, Orion and I followed our heroes as they cowered against the Lonely Mountain, waiting for Smaug to vent his wrath and destroy them. We both have high hopes that luck will prevail and Bilbo will find a way to save them.
I wish you good dreams and that you awake with anticipation of your Saturday.
g'night
g'night
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