Virtual Eraser in Hand....

I woke yesterday with a strong need to erase parts of myself and recreate them. Not the outside stuff, exactly. I like the age I am and the way I look. (Although I'd be happy to redraw new internal bendy parts and digestive bits, thank you....)

It's the Past I'd like to tweak. And the Little Girl I used to be. And the Clueless Adult she grew into. All the times she should've said no. The things she did for others without a thought for herself, and the relationships she chased in vain for validation. And the people she hurt because she was hurting....

And with that strong need to erase and recreate myself, I felt a giddy temptation to eradicate my online presence. Erase this blog, take down my Facebook fan page, close my Etsy store, everything....

Not sure why, exactly. Because I'm fine with how things are. No one's trolled me or hurt my feelings or anything. Just, suddenly, I wanted it swept clean so I could start again from the beginning (or even not start again at all). And I could half-imagine what my life would be like without this online connection. And the feeling was nice....

Please don't think this has anything to do with Wonderful You. You're my beloved reader, my single awesome fan! The special person who watches my videos and comments on my posts and 'likes' my updates and shares my Tweets and 'hearts' my Instagrams and buys my Etsy stuff.... It'd be rather selfish of me to disappear after you've spent your precious time online being my friend and giving me a follow....

Perhaps I just need to step away from the computer for a bit. Get out of my head. Quit being influenced by Perfect Others online. Take a break, refresh, and return when I feel like myself again.

A sweet friend agreed I should do just that but suggested that before I 'go' I leave you this message (or something like it):

"I'm off gathering inspiration and will be back sometime in the future. In the meantime, I hope you find magic in the everyday events surrounding you. I look forward to hearing about it when I return!"

Sounds intriguing, doesn't it? Like the person who wrote that packed up their magick pencils, grabbed their cloak, hopped on their broomstick, and set off on a Grand Adventure. 

I wonder what she did, where she went, what she saw? I wonder how it all changed her into the new-and-improved being she's so desperate to become?

Hmmmm....... (*pleasant sigh*)

Even I look forward to hearing about it. 

~delayne.
...

Still Here

I've been far from the keyboard lately, up to my neck in the busy-ness that is summer here at Tumbledown.

There have been big blissful grandbug moments and hot sunny days plucked from a Calvin-and-Hobbes strip. And, of course, I'm still trying to digest my recent Trip of a Lifetime, put my impressions in order, make wonderful magickal sense of it all.

It's butterfly season, too, and all is in full swing here. Stacks of caterpillar-filled plastic beer cups line my kitchen countertops right now -- a MUCH better season this year than in the recent past. My days start and end with milkweed as I try to save the world one monarch butterfly at a time. It's not much in the grand scheme of things, I know, but I like to think I'm making a difference somehow.

Plus, the Renaissance Festival is just a few short weeks away. So much to do and prepare for, set up and consider! I see it in my head and feel both anxious and eager.

So much on my plate right now. And then there's YOU-- in my thoughts every day.

The last time I wrote was a while ago, wasn't it? A whole month has passed without a post.... I was in a mood then. And after pressing the 'publish' button I backed away from the keyboard and had a hard time returning to it.

Sorry....

As you know, the post was all about 'losing friends and negatively influencing people,' and I was feeling somewhat unloved....

But as one awesome Facebook friend would later put it, "...if some people come and go, be grateful for those who will always stay!" So I know now that my focus was in the wrong place, on the wrong people. There are folks here who are devoted, constant, steadfast, willing to take my bad with my good (bless you!; I'm so grateful that you're here that I want to go there and give you a big hug), and they're the ones I should be focusing on.

Wonderful people.

Like you.

I heart you, my friend; I hope you know that.... And plan to hear from me again soon, OK? Because lots has happened. And I have lots to tell you.

Love,
...me.

Doing the 'Unfriend' Fandago

Know what's funny? I always draw myself as a kid. What's up with that??

You know who's good at losing two Facebook fans for every single fan she gains? This girl.

Each time I think I'm hitting my stride, I go and share something that bugs a few folks and they leave me.

Most of the time I find it hilarious. Unless I'm in one of those frames of mind -- you know the kind; the low-esteem, full-of-self-doubt kind -- and then I worry. Why did they 'unfriend' me? What did I do to make them decide not to be a fan any longer? Did I sound too honest? Did I sound dishonest?

And yeah, I'm making it seem as though they run away in spades when really it's only a few at most. But, dang it, they do it all at once and I panic when that happens.

It seems like I begin losing fans when I post something that sounds 'less than perfect.' Like maybe about struggling with a creative block or doubting my artistic abilities. I get that posts like those aren't fun to read. But they're Me being Honest.

And I think honesty's important. There's nothing worse than reading an artist's blog that seems too good to be true. It makes me wonder what's wrong with me that my creative life isn't that perfect. And eventually I begin to dislike the blogger, as if they're responsible for making me feel bad about myself....

But do I continue to follow them? Of course! Even if it's not 100% true, their life still seems to be pure MAGIC. Every thing they do works out, looks great, sells immediately, gets rave reviews. Creative blocks? Never!

And I want that.

However, now I'm also on the lookout for that chink in their armor. And when I find it, there's that "A-hah, I knew it!" victory rush inside and I'm suddenly able to cut myself some slack. "Hey, we can be friends again because they're flawed, too, just like me!" Only I admit it -- up, down, and sideways....

I'm always admitting it.

It's one of the first things I tell people about myself, actually.

And maybe that's my problem....?

...(*crickets*)....

Anyway -- (*gives self a good shake*) -- in the case of my own blogging, time passes. I pick myself up. I tell myself that it's OK to feel what I feel, it's OK to have doubts, it's OK to express them. I don't have to apologize for what's going on in my head. It's a struggle in here! Some days are creative gold; I think I'm making progress, learning big carved-in-stone things about myself, finding my definitive voice. And then moments later I question it all.

I can't be the only human bean on this rock who rediscovers herself anew each day and wonders just who the heck she was the day before. My layers-upon-layers are painful to peel sometimes, but it's fascinating to see what each uncovers. Some things stay the same (sort of) and just get more antiqued and beautified (or just more weathered and less sharp and pokey). Other things just gradually wear away. I'm never the same, never 100% the bean I was yesterday, not yet the interesting one I'll be tomorrow.

That pleases me. I like my layers! And I guess those 'unfriends' are gonna miss all the fun of the future.

Bummer for them. :)
...

The Annual A-Hah

I sell my work at one public venue a year. That's it. That's all I can handle at the moment. And that one venue is a Renaissance Faire. And Renaissance Faires have their own unique quirks that other shows do not. And in all the color and action and fun I tend to forget that....

Until every season when I reach that Point, that mid-season Crisis Point, where I'm awake all night stretched out in my sleeping bag on the hardwood floor of my shop staring up at the stars twinkling through the skylight in the roof and wondering what the frippin' hell was I thinking trying to talk up my art all dang day to drunk people who just want to see boobs and go home. And then I want to throw in the towel. I want to sell my shop and use my inventory as fire starter. I want to punch people for a quarter and make some real money.

I reached that Point last weekend. And I should've expected it. It was a 3-day weekend that started out hot and humid, and that first day drained my energy well completely. Then the rest of the weekend was cool and autumnal. Crowds appeared for the first time in the season. And Depleted Me had nothing to give them. That should've been my heads-up. I should've expected The Feeling. The one that's like wanting to jump off a cliff because hitting bottom would hurt less.

I caught myself in mid-jump this past week and I 'talked' about it. Actually, I posted my feelings to Facebook. But not in a BIG way. Just simple. I said, "I've reached that Point in the Fest season. The one where I doubt everything and suspect that what I'm doing is not what I'm supposed to be doing...." And I got some responses. Comments from friends ranging from, "Breathe. Relax! You're doing fine. You're right where you should be." To, "Enough! Time to stop all this introspective psychobabble double talk." I found myself feeling like the quiet kid at the table muttering, "Nobody likes me," and hearing, "Nonsense; snap out of it!"

Some were sympathetic. A few friends really validated my feelings. One said, "Thanks for standing up & saying what I think several other people are afraid of saying at this point of fest. It's honest." And another, who is probably as intimidated (I suspect) by my tell-it-like-it-is friends and their comments as I am sometimes, emailed me privately to say,

"My thought is that we all should change and grow. Maybe, just maybe, it is time to grow beyond the booth at Ren and see where the growth/change takes you. It does not stop your creativity, only channels it differently. I would miss your shop, but I have been one of those who mostly lusts after and rarely affords your awesomeness. But, I am a very tiny, tiny corner of all of this.

"In my maturing years I am learning that change, while scary, usually brings me to a better perspective and usually a more content life. And most importantly the decision should be made after Ren. After the mind and soul drain have recovered. If it feels right after all that, then take a deep breath and do it.

"Not being an artist myself, at least not one that will ever sell anything, I cannot advise you in any way on how to share your creativity, but you are part of an awesome group of creative people and I just have to believe that one of them "knows the song in your heart" and can help you find the way.

"Anyway, that is what is in my mind and heart after reading your post. Muddled and jumbled as it is, listen to your heart and be open to what it is telling you."

THIS is the dialogue I'd hoped to start. THIS was how the conversation was supposed to begin. I wasn't fishing for compliments or pats on the back or hang-in-there-you're-doing-fine's. I didn't intend to set myself up for the snap-out-of-its and it's-all-in-your-imaginations.

I told my FB friends that I'm not so much questioning being part of Fest as much as I'm questioning HOW I'm a part of Fest. That I wish sometimes there was something else I was good at -- juggling, tin-whistling, anything! -- as owning a shop and investing time and money in creating a product is an expensive way to get together with my friends and be a part of the world I love.

I couldn't be more confident that making art is what I'm supposed to be doing. And I'm pretty sure that being at Fest is where I'm supposed to be. (If I wasn't there every weekend of the season, when would I see my pseudo-Tribe?) However, selling my art at Fest is where I'm all confused.

I should've phrased my status update differently. I should've said something like,

"Fellow Fest Creatives: Do YOU ever reach that Point? The one where you doubt yourself and your work? The one where you find yourself desperately trying to close a sale to keep yourself from feeling like a total failure? The one where you can't imagine what made you think that creating what you create and trying to make a living from it -- and at a Faire, no less! -- was a good idea? And what things do you do when that Point is reached? Or do you see it coming and head it off at the pass? What buoys you? What keeps you going? What makes you continue to put yourself out there and risk more rejection?"

You'd think after doing this for nearly 30 years I'd have a clue. And it embarrasses me to say that I don't, that I still hit that Point and wonder what the hell just happened, that I still struggle.... 

I get that beer and turkey legs and bawdy stage shows that never change appeal to all but art is subjective. Not everyone I meet is going to respond favorably to what I do. And of the few who do respond well to it, few will purchase. And of the few who purchase, even fewer will buy more than one piece. (I love other artists' work, too, but buying, framing, and displaying more than one print is something I've yet to do, so I totally understand this.) And of the few who wish to purchase and can't afford to, few will take advantage of the less-expensive alternatives I offer. So in the end, my bills are pretty much paid (barely) every year with $1 bookmark sales, most of which are only made after I mark them down to 50-cents and offer to include the sales tax. That's how it goes. That's how it goes for ME, anyway. And it's been that way every year no matter how I try to spin what I do, no matter how I try to change up my product line to appeal to (hopefully) more customers....

And then the occasional fantasy of walking away from Mayfaire and just hawking for James overcomes me and I get an adventurous tickle in my gut. Especially when I remind myself that there are other alternatives now, online shopping alternatives, for example, which would allow me to sell my work without having to vie with boobs and turkey legs for my customers' attention. And then I go on to imagine that I'd still be able to throw on a costume, see my Fest friends, and feel like a part of the Clan but it'd no longer cost me a fortune to do so and I wouldn't spend any more angst-filled seasons wondering what it is I'm doing wrong....

...How cool would that be, really?.... 

(*blink*)

It'll always be this way....

(*blink blink*)

...And I should accept that....

(*blink*)

...And if I can't accept that, I should keep trying on that walking-away-from-Mayfaire fantasy and see how it feels.... How comfortable it feels....

(*blink*)

Well, huh....

See what happens when I write to you?

I learn stuff.
...

Taking a Social Media Break

I've had to walk away from Facebook.

Just for a bit.

Social media and I are uncomfortable friends at best, and every once in a while I have to leave the suddenly overcrowded sandbox and go swing for a bit, just until I can catch my breath. People, even virtual ones, are apparently my kryptonite....

But this seems to be a cycle for me. I'm sure if I checked my blog archives from exactly a year ago, I'd find a post like this.

So for today I'll walk away. After all, there are pea seedlings to plant and dandelion blossoms to pick. The lawnmower needs my attention, too. And since it refuses to start for me, there's always sun coffee to brew and a rockingchair to curl up in on the patio. If I'm quiet there I can watch the robin in her nest on the garage. I can spy the nibbling nose of Bad Bunny hiding in the rhubarb patch. A cabbage white crosses my path; a good omen. And a trio of starlings march in the sunlight, their sharp beaks scissoring the clover.

And I've got something to read and something to sip, a notebook to write in, a sketchbook to draw in. And my head is full of ideas.

I'm good company. And things are magickal here. And I'll choose this before Facebook any day.
...

An A-Ha Moment of Sorts

Well, duh....

All day yesterday I wrestled with the whinefest I'd just written about the Social Networking clique and how 'none of the cool kids know I'm alive (sniff!),' and about how small and childish I felt inside when I thought about navigating the World Weird Web.

Embarrassingly pathetic. But like I said, I thought about it all dang day. Only this time I accompanied all the thinking with a bunch of doing, which was surprisingly effective.

The studio overhaul I'd begun in January has come to a frustrating stand-still, so in anger I pushed a bunch of boxes aside, set up my table, and hooked up the lights. I plugged in an old boom box. I set up an ancient TV. I realized afterwards that I had no idea where the box of paper was or the box of drawing utensils, and I was not about to start digging again.... So I said screw it, and decided to employ sketchbook paper and rescued pencils that I've found on my walks.

The setup is ugly. Nothing about it is inviting -- nothing! -- except perhaps the fact that there's a door to it that can be closed to reality (and if that's the only glint of silver I can find in the lining of this particular cloud, I'm going for it). So today I've unearthed an adjustable stool and a little taboret of sorts to safely support my coffee cup, and now I think I'm ready.

But my real point: All the while I was making these angry preparations I was far away in my head. And when it occurred to me that Facebook and the like make me feel as though I'm back in high school, I remember thinking: "Hmmmm. Knowing what you know now, if you could go back in time and talk to your high school self, Delayne, what helpful advice would you give her about this so-called In Crowd?" Easy-peasy. I'd tell her to ignore those bitches and just be herself.

Sounds like a plan.

...

What Am I Missing?

James's birthday was on a Sunday recently so we made a whole weekend of it, and during that time I yearned to share our doings by posting some status updates on Facebook, things like: "'Sucker Punch' + vintage books + Mongolian BBQ = a great day!" But I was nowhere near a computer and my phone was low on battery.

And then a funny thing happened. I began to experience a little social networking withdrawal. Who knew??

Although I may be wrong, I don't think I spend a lot of time on social networking; however, I will admit it's on my mind a lot. My whole reason for even getting involved was to promote my art. And then it just sorta snowballed. Perhaps because I suspect I have the kind of personality that turns everything into an addiction.

Anyway, by the end of Day One of the birthday weekend just the thought of Facebook seemed a bit overwhelming to me. And a quick check on my iPhone told me that no one was even aware of my absence. Why did I care??

Day Two was more of the same. And by the time we returned home that evening I was in somewhat of a funk; just the sight of the computer was enough to make me anxious. In my mind I saw the amount of time I'd been devoting to establishing my little spot online, and how in a matter of hours that big world I'd been trying to orbit had leapt miles ahead of me. I didn't have the energy now to catch up. And it wouldn't matter anyway. Even a couple of the new Twitter followers I'd recently welcomed had already lost interest in me and 'unfollowed.' After a matter of hours.... Sheesh....

I can't blame Social Networking as the reason why the following week was such a downer for me. In the grand scheme of All Things That Depress Me, it doesn't make a blip. I'd begun to sense a deep darkness on my periphery before the weekend had even gotten underway, and with the deep darkness there comes a deeper aloneness. I know this. And for me, Social Networking provides a different kind of aloneness, and it didn't help.

When things returned to their normal routine on Monday, I made the online comment that I was stepping away for a while and would return to the world of Social Networking again when I could do so with a smile. And then I gave the computer a wide berth. The few who cared took the time to say they cared, and for that I'm grateful.

And since that post I've returned, but not fully. I look at the phenomenon and see a high school clique that is impossible for me to infiltrate, and just knowing that a little bitty part of me yearns to do so makes me unhappy with myself. I want the balls to cut my ties to it! But dang if I don't see its potential for someone like me who is trying to run a business on a dime.

Maybe it's my age. Or maybe I just don't understand it. Or maybe I just don't have the time for it. But Facebook and Twitter and the like just brush my fur backwards. Trying to employ them for the sake of Mayfaire takes time I hardly have and skills I don't possess. Since I care (and am careful) about what I post and how I post it, each sentence is handcrafted and honed. Not perfectly, I understand. Not even well, I suspect! But you wouldn't guess that from the amount of time and attention I give them. And does it matter? That's the big question. Am I wasting my time? Does it all work out for the best?

I haven't a clue. But those 'in the know' say it does. We'll see.... But for now it feels kind of nice to take a big step back and let it all run on ahead, gossiping and giggling like schoolgirls trying to catch the eye of the In Crowd.

While I read a book and plant peas. And draw. And dream.
...