Searching, Struggling, Scribbling

I'm still struggling with The Block. Probably the biggest creative block of my life. And I hate it. And I suspect I've bored you silly with it, which I think accounts for why I've blogged so infrequently since my Trip-of-a-Lifetime-Epic-Dream-Come-True Adventure.

But there's no getting around the fact that a big part of me has gone AWOL since my return. It's the part that exists between my imagination and my hands. Maybe it's my shadow. And even though months have passed since my Adventure I'm still trying to catch that elusive connection and sew it back onto myself. But it's hiding somewhere in Derbyshire and doesn't want to be found....

Life continues on in spite of Adventures, and things have been rollercoastery here since my return. So much so, that I've yet to nail down a lot of what I experienced there. And then I lost almost all of the photos I took! And then I grieved. Losing my shadow just seemed like part of the trauma. And it wasn't until well after Fest that I began to really worry about it.

As always, it helps to write, but drawing still seems out of the question. Why, exactly?? I wish I knew.... I begin a sketch and want to wreck it right away. I feel like a toddler with a big fat crayon and little clumsy hands, like I haven't the skills to execute all the Amazing that I see in my head.

This has to be overcome. Now. Months have passed! Folks depend on me. I have work to do!

I promised myself I'd begin this new year with some attitude. Tell myself that I won't stand for this any longer, no excuses, pick up that pencil and make a mark, scribble if that's what it takes! And I might just find out that what's been struggling to surface is the experience of my Big Adventure. There has to be a reason my shadow is still far away, right? Losing my mind/hand connection immediately upon my return from England can't be a coincidence....

And maybe by stepping off the rollercoaster here and focusing intently on my memories of there I can reconnect my two halves and feel like myself again....

Myself. Only different. Because Me-Before-England doesn't exist any longer. And I have yet to really try on and walk around in Me-After....

*blink*

(Sounds of crickets chirping)

Well, huh....

This could be interesting.
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Will Wake for Adventure

Makeup's on, coffee's in -- I've been up for hours....

This rarely happens.

I'm a Night Owl of the highest order. And even knowing that I'd need an early start today didn't help me fall asleep any faster. But it seems I'll wake for Adventure. 

Who knew?

I accompanied James in to his work this morning and he dropped me off at a nearby posh mall, one with a designer coffee shop and a real estate broker, and sweet little stores that sell Coach bags, Tiffany memorabilia, and weird stuff like blinged-out deck shoes.... 

Nothing's open yet, of course, but the halllways are still full of people getting their exercise. The Silver Sneakers crowd. Folks my own age. Women dramatically madeup and perfectly coiffed, wearing diamonds with their workout wear. Men in their high-waisted Dockers and cardigans.

And then there's ME. Jeans and a hoodie and my Adventure Bag full of what James likes to calll my 'artist bumperstickers.' Inside are my art supplies.

Nothing makes me want to retreat back to my mess and my menagerie quite so much as being in such an environment. Right now I'm way out of my comfort zone.... 

But I'm only here because it's a conveniennt drop-off point. James has a half day today and he's got the afternoon planned. So I thought it'd be more convenient for him if I waited here, somewhere close, where we could get the afternoon off to a quicker start.

So while I wait I thought I'd write to you. And eat my peanutbutter sandwich. And perhaps draw a Little Something and perhaps even abandon it here. And maybe someone will find it, someone who wears clothes that aren't worn and don't come from the Goodwill, like mine.

Better yet, maybe someone frugal and comfortable and creative and totallly out of their comfort zone will find it.

And maybe it'll make their day.

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Something New!

James gifted me yesterday with a little portable Folio keyboard, one that I can pair with my phone so I can write off-site without having to compose with my thumbs. And I'm writing to you on it now. (SO grateful for this. Thank you, James!)

That said, I will take this opportunity to wish you the world's best Monday. And I hope that no matter where you are in the world today, your groundhog saw what you hoped he'd see.

Love,

~me.

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Tea & 20 Questions

Who are you, my friend? (Don't be afraid; you don't have to go into detail unless you want to.....)

Are you a creative kindred spirit? Do you share a love of Stuff? Are you a fellow wanderer, bouncing around Life and pinging off sharp corners, trying to figure it all out and hoping to be a better human bean today than you were yesterday?

Do you like to draw? Do you have the Answers? Do you long to help? Do you love to read?

How do you see yourself? With what do you surround yourself? How would you describe yourself?

Are you as clueless and as blank-slated as I am? Do your hopes outnumber your fears? Is your glass half full or half empty, or do you (like it's been said of me) not have a glass at all?

What are your dreams, your wishes, your wants?

What are your hopes for this New Year?

And is Earl Grey fine for today's tea? Or would you rather have Darjeeling?....

Go ahead, tell me all about yourself.

Tea's ready. I'll pour....
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On Your Mark, Get Set, Here We Go

I have this beautiful friend who is desperate to make a Life Change, and the pain in her voice when she talks to me about it breaks my heart....

If I had a magick wand that really works, I swear I'd fix it all for her in an instant so she wouldn't have to feel this pain! I'd completely erase all the hard work she has to look forward to, because I love her and want her to be happy! But I know that's the worst thing I could do.

This isn't the first time she's wanted this or the first time she's talked to me about it or the first time she's embarked on this journey. It's happened many times before but never lasts very long; and each time she tries and quits, she feels worse about herself.

I can't let that happen again. She's too important to me! But I'll admit that a part of me doesn't want to get involved again because it destroys me when she makes a good start and then just gives up on herself. Does she not know how much she deserves this? How much her friends and family are behind her on this? How much her kids NEED her to do this??

I want 2015 to be her Best Year Ever! I want her to look back on it and be so dang proud of herself that she's at a loss for words! And then I want her to look ahead at a lifetime of excellent health and a world of amazing possibilities! (Not to mention a closet full of trendy wardrobe choices....)

All easy for me to say.... I sit here writing about how none of this will happen for her if she doesn't get up, work HARD, sweat blood. Perhaps she'd be more willing to stick with it if I did the same.

A year from now I would love to be able to tuck in my shirt. I year from now I would love to keep up with my grandkids without wheezing, and move comfortably without pain or complaint, and spend less time sleeping and more time living.... A year from now I would love to look back on 2015 and be proud of myself, and be in better health (better shape, better creative place, better fill-in-the-blank) THEN than I am NOW.

So. To show my solidarity, I will begin today to make that change and hope that my efforts set a good example for my beautiful friend and communicate to her my love and support.

Because I want her to know she's not alone in this struggle and that I'm here for her.

Maybe YOU are her....

?....

Well then. Know I'm here for you. And I'm willing to do this if you are. And I will hold myself accountable to you in these posts. Because I want 2015 to be our year, THE year.

Deal?
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Well, That Might Explain It....

Start with this one.

Not long after I pressed the 'send' button last, I succumbed to whatever crud it was that'd been stalking me. Which might explain why I was so 'something' at the time. (Sorry....)

I'm still up to my sinuses in it and will spare you any details, but I do want to say that I hope whatever this is hasn't found you, your loved ones, your co-workers, or that person who sat next to you on the train and asked to borrow your pen....

Because if it has, then my only suggestion would be to stop EVERYTHING, return to your nest, unplug your land line or turn off your smartphone, brew some hot tea with honey and lemon, grab the closest 'Flavia de Luce' book, and have at it. OK?

In case you're wondering, Flavia is Sherlock Holmes if Holmes was (were?) an 11-year-old girl living in the 1950's on a once-grand estate in the fictional English village of Bishop's Lacey. She's obsessed with chemistry and poisons and death and sleuthing. She has her own laboratory! And a trusty bicycle/steed named 'Gladys.' I was first introduced to her via a library discard that I rescued for 25-cents because I simply liked the title, and it just so happened to be the first in this fabulous series. I've since gone on to read others but I'm careful not to burn through them, they're that perfect. (PLEASE, Mr. Bradley, DO NOT STOP WRITING.)

Once you've found your book (doesn't have to be Flavia, but you'll thank me if it is) unplug, brew, read, repeat until all is well once more. Because you deserve this and because I firmly believe in Time Outs for one's mental and physical health.

Shutting up now and returning you to your regularly-scheduled program and me to my regularly-scheduled Flavia and chicken soup.

Later, my friend.
(((heart)))
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Over and Out (at least for a bit....)

Jesus....

I can't be on Social Media for a while. I just can't....

Is it just me, or is the whole world going to hell in a hamper?? First there was this story. Seriously? And then this story. Are you kidding me? Followed by this story. OK, now I'm DONE. Signing off for awhile.... I was only online this morning for a few minutes and that's just half of what my eyes saw, and I swear I didn't go looking for it.

Granted, it's already been a week full of What The Hell. But I was coping. And then this happened and I can't stop thinking about cartoonists being called out by name and brutally executed. Fellow artists! Murdered in the name of God. I can't wrap my head around it....

But I should probably talk about it. I have to do something or I'll burst into flame. Or disappear. The overwhelming weight of all this awfulness will crush me.

Thicker-skinned folks in my social circle have branded me the bleeding heart who plugs her ears and shuts her eyes and thinks 'rainbows' and 'unicorns' to keep from dealing with anything unpleasant. And I'll admit that's me. Absolutely.

But I wish it wasn't. I wish I could be the Angry One. Or the One Who Isn't Afraid to Speak Out. Or the One Who Makes a Difference. But I'm not. It all gets internalized.

And then I just get mad at myself for being so helpless. Do I really think that cute doodles of fairies and flowers is going to do anything, help anyone?? How can I think that what I do could ever make a difference?

Or -- wait a second -- is what I do just another way of me putting my head in the sand? How can THAT help anyone?? And how must it look when I post pics of fluffy bunnies and sassy fairies while everywhere the world is falling apart?

......Ugh....

And this is where things get squirrely for me, so I'll just walk away for a bit so I can deal somehow. Bury my head back in the sand.

But I appreciate being able to 'talk' to you.... Thank you for being out there somewhere.
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