22 November 2010

the inside out version

after going so many months and sustaining my terrible habit of twelve (or more) hour days, i find myself feeling a bit lost today. the calendar for this week is mostly an oasis of blank spots and nothing, with the only part of it all being my evenings chock full of fun things like musicals and comedy and food. what is this newly found freedom i see before me?

it's great! it's grand! it's fucking terrifying! goodness, i haven't even had a real night off yet and here i am already fretting about what to do with so many free evenings. it isn't hard to suppose that i could've learned a thing or two from goldilocks, now is it? though the struggle for moderation totally sucks, i do keep on trying. wait a minute... are buddha and goldilocks related somehow?!?! is this some indoctrinating cautionary tale from those crazy eastern peeps that held our dear old western storytellers spellbound without their consent? i knew that fairy tales were a conspiracy, but i never could have dreamed they were out to take over the world with only a bit of porridge!

or rather, i meant to say.... yes, i do need a hobby to occupy me in a relaxing way. there is always brushing the cats to fix that. my new thing is playing with all the random string laying about and learning to crochet. it is only in the very formative stages, so my projects up until this point have included three chains of tangled yarn, something resembling a hot pink onion ring, and half a squeezy thimble puppet. after learning this new skill over the weekend, its fascinating properties have me thinking that idle hands take away from the other senses, as i was amazingly focused on the music while i tried to crochet a glove-like thingy. the wad of yarn was a mess, but i was relaxed and able to hear melodies with great clarity while trying to disentangle myself from the freeway of fuzz. another spellbound moment in action. hmmm, i see a theme going here.

what's up next:
making birthday plans!

06 November 2010

awe and inspiration for boring people like me

being a creative person can lead to some seriously weird creativity blocks. in the past i've called it the difference between inspiration and creation, as well as some other vague descriptions that don't make much sense to anyone but myself. i am in awe of other people's creations, which should inspire me to make something myself, right? it generally whips me into a form of intimidation that stops all creation in its tracks.

the perfect remedy? be in awe of someone who does something i have no idea how to do. stop inviting comparison to my own work and learn to appreciate the things that do inspire me. sure, i didn't eradicate smallpox by way of an internet search engine or invent an as seen on tv product that will lure millions into a midnight shopping frenzy, but i can stick stuff to other stuff with some amount of skill. i bet the guys at google don't even have a cool adhesive collection like mine. then again, it occurs to me just how many times that me and megan have remarked on how interesting someone else's life is, especially when we see ourselves as boring slugs that blushingly like to watch top model while eating pizza and cupcakes.

my own life, for instance, has raised a few eyebrows and some interest from others. to this i say, "huh? really?" in my head i'm just now starting to become an artist, which may come as a surprise to people; or perhaps not too surprising to the other artists i know. don't we all feel just a little inept at leading our own lives when other people are so damn exciting? it's a big day for me if i remember to take my medication and put my stinky socks in the hamper after i fling my shoes across the living room. and just think - i manage to be interesting and creative.

this is why i cram my life full of other interesting people... which is, of course, anyone who isn't myself and has a wonderful story to tell about that time they did this or that and it ended up as wow that was really cool and don't you think that coincidence is amazing but it was really nothing i swear, but oh it was something to me because i was in awe of the story of the thing i never did myself. but i still don't know if i want to milk a cow or eat live bugs just to have a story like that. i mean, what if i gag on a squirmy cricket and a moving body part flies out of my nose? great story, but not so much worth the trauma of it all when you think it over. okay, so maybe milking a cow would be fine, so long as it didn't hurt my back too much in the end, but the bug thing prolly wins it every time.

but i digress, per my usual habit of digressing. hmmm, it would seem that my block is broken by the thought of live cricket parts shooting out of my face. how's that for boring and interesting combined?

addicted to :
wearing lots of bracelets
lighting matches
peanut butter
my cats purring loudly
fluffy socks

02 November 2010

i can learn to say no

by saturday night, i came home and stared. my body piled itself on the sofa and i drooled while the cats did some self-petting head butts at my elbows. and hands. it wasn't that i had done some kind of strenuous physical activity, but more that i hadn't seen my own house in what seemed like weeks. there is a special word that i have no grasp on when asked to volunteer for things. NO. in this, i manage to overcommit myself to everything i can think of to do. result? me drooling on the sofa.

each time this happens, the reaction is similar to that of a weekend alcoholic with a hangover. "i'm never gonna do this again!" and just like that binge drinker, i fall victim to my own follies again and again without thought to the repeated vow made to lighten up on everything. what the hell is wrong with my brain? does it think that running ragged is a lifestyle choice?!? oh sure, i can SAY that taking on more isn't an option, but then it just feels like being lazy and selfish... to simply take a day off from being the super duper version of me. lately i've had a few people ask me when my burnout phase is going to come, as if it is inevitable. in an effort to stave off the complete breakdown i have scheduled mini breakdowns for more convenient times so that i won't end up in fetal position with my shower spraying me in the face while i am fully clothed and muttering random song lyrics. now really, that would be a spectacular burnout, but who has the time for it?

when you look at my calendar, it doesn't seem too daunting. there isn't much of an overlap on items, plenty of blank spots that don't involve times i should be asleep, and most all of my appointments are in legible handwriting. it's amazing - how does a girl with so little to do get so much done and feel as if she hasn't done anything, all while managing to stay up too late because she was out past eleven (almost) every night getting things done? not really sure when my schedule became the riddle of the sphinx, but it's a paradox, i tell you.

going with my usual silliness, i'm looking at the pages for this week and wondering when i'm going to take a break. oh, wait! i have that scheduled for next month! just a few more weeks until glorious freedom... and a whole new set of commitments that i've made without consulting my own damn brain or my calendar. however, like any good alcoholic, i promise never to do this to myself again.

today's big task: