work and repose

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nothing like a little semi-nude photography to get the evening started with a bang.  :)  

i had the day off and i spent it almost entirely in bed crocheting.  it's been wonderful.  no make-up, no schedule, no other agenda other than art-making.  days like this remind me of the goodness of my life and to be thankful for the wide-open freedom it contains.  this type of devotion - the slow progress of hand-made textiles - is a luxury.  it requires an expanse of time most people seem not to have or to not allow themselves even if they do.  there are lawns to be mowed and cars to be washed and another trip to the grocery store.  there is always something that must be tended to.  weekends lose their glamour easily.  and then there's that awful fatigue that finds us all from time to time...  that feeling that the effort simply isn't worth it, that what we have to say is stupid and that our loves (and lives) are somehow Lesser Than.  but not today.  today i was able to relish this moment of calm methodology.  i twisted the yarn around the hook and lost myself in the rhythm of the pattern.  i let my mind wander.  i let myself dream.  i let myself enjoy this quietude.  i've needed it.  there's so much to process.  especially since the trip.  

in less than 2 weeks i'll be 33.  my jesus birthday is here.  it's so strange to think of my age.  i feel like no age really fits.  what does it mean to feel a certain age?  no number seems to hold some sort of unnameable secret, nor does it belie any type of truth about an individual.  still, it does seem to ring true that the 30s are an era in which an individual truly does come in to their own.  at least it has been for me thus far.  the loop of time gets me thinking about my life and where i want to take this next year of my existence.  it's the ritual of growth, i suppose: another season opens, another season closes.  i re-read certain entries in the diary.  i leaf through the record of this wild, unimaginably good year and marvel at how different my life is; there is hardly any resemblance between my life now and what it was 2 years ago. for my birthday last year, i took myself to new york for the very first time.  that trip set in motion an entire wealth of changes, an entirely new outlook on life and a desire to live it as fully as possible, as true to myself as possible.  in the year that has elapsed since, i've been to new york four times and managed to take myself to europe.  it doesn't seem possible!  it seems like someone else's life i'm talking about here!  it amazes me that I got to do these things and pursue this path!  i'm still processing the effects and meaning of Travel.  i'm not even sure how to write about it yet...  it instantly changes a person.  i'm trying to settle back in to my life here in california but i don't want to somehow obscure the changes that have taken place within me.  rather, i'm trying to find a site of stillness, some sort of silence that will allow these changes to rise to the surface of my being and blossom. 

while i was gone, i thought of the next blanket i would make.  i'm glad to be working on it now.  

THE DREADED UNKNOWN! THE DREADED KNOWN!

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i went to my little storage unit earlier today for the first time in 10 months.  so many of the objects seemed like they didn't belong to me.  or couldn't.  but they did.  they do.  and i've been paying rent for them to be kept safely somewhere for the passed year. 

it is a strange time-capsule.  an odd window in to a different era, a different heart.  after i turned my key in the padlock and swung the big, white door open i felt as if i was looking at someone else's belongings.  in so many ways, i was.  i am.  i took one small carload of boxes and artwork back to my house.  as i unpacked, i came across such a funny and weird assortment of shit from my past.  numerous lives!  it made me laugh joyfully to pull a two dollar bill (with red and black ink print) from the lowest drawer of my black Japanese jewelery box.  i dumped the contents of the entire thing on to the floor, cleaned the drawers and hinges of a year's worth of dust, then rooted through the tarnished pieces. 

i made a massive pile of trinkets i'm definitely not interested in wearing anymore, i'll say that much! ha! i looked at the glittering heap on the floor in front of me and felt next to no attachment to any of it.  i'll keep the pieces of jewelery my mother gave me even though it's of a style i no longer wear.   there is the necklace she gave me for my 16th birthday.  here is the necklace she gave me when i graduated from High School.  and here, the necklace she gave me when i graduated from college.  when she died, i took a few of her necklaces.  not because i wanted to wear them, i just wanted them near.  like a Bible.  amulets.  talismans.  and who knows?  maybe the future will give me occasion to wear these necklaces again. 

but i digress.

i didn't remember how much stuff i'd managed to cram inside such a tiny unit.  i rented the smallest one available!  my crap is really shoe-horned in, let me tell you.  it's going to take a few more trips to get this all sorted out.  most of which will be left on Oakland street corners or given to the Goodwill.  i don't want it.  i don't identify with it.  i have no feeling for most of what i've saved.  i want to be rid of it and have a clear, wide expanse in front of me upon which i may build a new life, a new future, a better, more honest Self.  i don't want the anchors of The Past pulling at the corners of my eyes, the corners of my heart.  i don't need the barbs and burrs. i don't need or want the attachments.  it's truly just stuff.  and mostly annoyances.

but my books.  god, my books!!!  i've missed them so much!  i brought two boxes home with me today.  i found the boxes that held my kiki smith and louise bourgeouis monographs and also my collection of jean genet's writings.  i've been wanting to re-read The Theif's Journal since i embarked upon an idependant life a year ago.  i need to have it around me, again, like a Bible.  i need the reminder of his fearlessness, the illustrations of his philosophic bravery and poetic swagger. 

right now, i am uploading my cd collection in to my laptop.  soon, i'll be able to relish in the sounds of my brilliant music collection as i stomp back and forth across Oakland and San Francisco.  i've been without Fugazi and Tori Amos and En Vouge and TOOL for a year!   a fucking year!  it's so good to have my music collection here in front of me.  it is an ecstasy, truly. 

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the future grins from its dark corner.  change is afoot.  there is no reason to think his grin is sinister.  he is merely chuckling at the surprises he knows are in store for us and of which we will be amazed and glad - these same things which we (i too) are afraid of now.  the Unknown is a scary motherfucking thing,  but i feel the fear and barrel forward anyway.  like my friend said "get busy living or get busy dying".

it's easier now that i have music to do it to.  ;)



let's live, kid.

a new season scratches at my cheeks

i am always catching the last train home.  in my neck of the woods that means i need to get my ass to the station by midnight.  tonight, as i sat sprawled in the powder blue seat and gazed at the interior of the empty train car i alone occupied, i thought, "i don't think the trains in New York are ever this private".

i've been missing New York a lot lately.  so much, in fact, that this evening at work i requested some time off in late april to go back for a few days.  and this time it won't be to get rowdy, though i'm sure there will be a bit of that too.  museums by day and LES bars by night.  primarily though, i want to go and look around with a serious eye.  the ache in me to walk those beautiful streets throbs something awful.  i miss the way the air moves there.  i miss the sound of all that hustle. 

the last few weeks it has been very hard for me to ignore the fact that i am in definite need of a change of scenery.  in august, it will be 8 years that i've lived in the Bay Area. and even though i'm working and taking classes, making progress in my personal endeavors, the fact remains that i'm sort of just hanging out.  i don't plan to or want to go to grad school here.  my two american dream schools are Columbia University and UCLA.  what am i doing farting around in oaktown for?  i can wait tables and make art anywhere.  i have a good job but it's nothing to plan my future around.

the last year was largely about figuring out how to give myself permission to live life again, to be wild and unruly if i needed and not beat myself up about it, to be myself without apology.  i'm so tired of this horrible instinct toward guilt that was instilled in me as a child.  any time i begin to think of my own dreams or what it takes for my to feel happy an fulfilled, the accusation of SELFISH SELFISH SELFISH resounds in my ears. it's no way to live.  not if one actually wants to do something beautiful with the short time one is allotted on this rock.  i've learned how to put that knowledge in to action.  it's time, again, to grow and explore.  it's time, again, to welcome discomfort and create the situation of sink-or-swim.  i tend to be at my finest in those dire moments.  if the choices i am presented with are to fail or to shine, i always shine.

and so the decision is made.  for my birthday this year i will relocate.  september 3rd is the mark.  from here on out all i can do is work, work, work and save, save, save.  if i can get it done before my birthday, even better.  a new adventure is on it's way.

hello again

i've been so busy since the new semester started a few weeks ago.  unbelievably busy.  it seems that suddenly my life has come full circle and i spend the vast majority of my time working and studying, waiting for a free moment that i can give to art-making.  i reel in my desire to stay out late drinking in bars and embrace my time-honored affection for long nights of reading and drawing at home alone on my bedroom floor.  my old, gentle habits return.  my quiet self, my thoughtful self emerges.  it's the right time of year for such a return. 

a few days ago i celebrated my first anniversary of being single.  an entire year has elapsed.  12 solid months. it's so strange;  it seems like it's been so much longer than that.  i've done so much living since the day i walked out the door, taking only my white leather jacket and book bag with me last february.  that moment seems like a dream.  the life that followed on its heels feels real. 

i've been reading back through last year's diary.  it is a surreal experience.  i look at my own handwriting and am boggled by the words on the page.  i stare at the sentences, at the expression of such degraded loneliness and my small squeaks of hope, and wonder how it was ever possible that that life was really mine.  we humans often find ourselves in situations we didn't intend.  the years get away from us so quickly.  our naivety blinds us.  our fear of pain delays decision after decision.  we ache for something better than what we have but we feel guilty for wanting it.  we assume that wanting something other than what we've got means we're bad, wrong, or selfish.  i wasn't leading a bad life, i was simply stuck in a life that wasn't right for me.  i'm thankful to have this level of understanding at my disposal.  it feels good to be able to understand the lives and motivations of others as a result of having had such an experience.  i am more compassionate today that i was a year ago.  i am stronger and more able to give respect, tolerance, and understanding to other people.  i have a greater capacity for love than i have ever had before. 

still, i'm in no rush to couple-up.  i was in a relationship for 7 years.  i'm enjoying all this ME TIME.  it's nice to be able to plan trips and not have to worry if another person approves or not.  it's nice to be able to spend money on whatever the fuck i feel like spending money on without having to worry about what judgement may befall me as a result.  it's nice not to have to cook dinner every night.  it's nice to cook whatever i want for dinner and not have any discussion about it whatsoever.  it's nice to simply be myself.  it really is.  i like who i am.  i like not having to amend my self or argue for my own interests and desires.  i like not being confronted with the "necessity" of concession and compromise.  and i'm hopeful that there are other types of relationships possible in this life aside from what i just described.  i'm hopeful that in the future i'll stumble in to a situation that feels good, feels respectful of who i truly am, and encourages me to be my best. in the meantime, i'm doing a pretty good job of encouraging myself. 

it feels great to return to a deep degree of dedication when it comes to language acquisition and study.  i have two german classes this semester and am currently saving money for a trip to germany in summer.  i come home to my books and my art after work rather than heading off to a bar.  don't get me wrong, i love bars, it's just time to be a bit more measured when it comes to how much time (and money) i spend in them.  i've got dreams to chase and tons of lessons to learn.  this little waiter needs a clear head, an open heart, and money for plane tickets.  and it's amazing to see myself come back around to ideas and interests i had this time last year but that i necessarily had to put on hold while i tended to the very real concern of my own survival and building a life for myself.  it's fantastic to read how excited i was to attend the Francesca Woodman retrospective at SFMOMA last year and relive the profound affinity i felt toward her work.  it's wonderful to read about my budding enthusiasm for photography and streetart and then to realize that now, a year later, i'm participating in both art-forms in a serious manner.  so many things seem to be coming back around to degree zero and i feel refreshed and recharged by that lucky occurrence. 

all this to say, it's nice to be back.  life sure gets good every now and then and there's a hell of a lot to look forward to. 

;)

i am also afraid but i have to keep moving

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"Each time our hope for a better world is based on a system, this system collapses, due to the corruptibility and imperfection of human beings.  I believe we have to go back and work at the growth of human beings, so they will not need systems, but will know how to rule themselves.  Now you have suffered the shock of disillusion in an ideology which has betrayed its ideals.  It is a good time to return to the creation of yourself, not as a blind number in a group, but as an individual.  Poetry is merely the language of our night-self, in which are imbedded the seeds of all we do and are in the day.  We can only control it by knowing it.  Better to make this journey back to what you had first intended, rather than to die of disillusionment."

The Diary of Anais Nin
Volume 4, page 10 




i live wildly these days.  maybe i'm trying to make it back to a life and self i had once intended.  i return to reading.  everyday, i long for the companionship of my books.  i miss the books that are stowed away in my storage unit.  i want so badly to go rescue them from that cold cell.  it's hard to believe i've gone so long without them. how long has it been now?  10 months?  so much has happened.  so much has changed.  i wind my way back to an earlier idea of myself.  i return to the pages that evoked my rebirth.  Anais Nin's diary.  the healing waters of her words and rhythm.  i scribbled this passage from her diary in to my own.  i read it on the train a few days ago and i've been thinking of it ever since.

i have no answers.  fear is normal but should never be allowed to become King.  change is a scary motherfucker.  especially when the individual is in charge of making change within their own life.  i've been listening to the song posted below for days.  and while my shoulders bounce as i dance alone in my white room, i consider my actions and the wages of all my "sins".  my biggest mistake thus far has been allowing my fears to dictate my actions.  or, rather, my inaction, if i want to be more accurate.  i have stood still when i longed for motion and have remained silent when i longed to speak.  these instances haunt me and torture me and yet, after years of this mode of being, i became so accumstomed to minding the egg shells that, now, when i do otherwise, i am immediately met with stabs of guilt.  i sit and stare at the words i write and wonder if i'm being bad.  i look at the romances i've enjoyed and wonder if i'm immoral.  i look at my late nights of dancing and worry i might be a glutton.  it is the old training kicking in, the instilled fear and implanted guilt of the particular system i was brought up in.  i was taught to fear myself, my own desires and dreams.  i was taught to second-guess my own insticts and to veiw my interests as selfish and wrong.  and i'm not just talking about family or religion but the larger cultural climate in which the spheres of family and religion exist.  the sexism.  the deep hatred of women.  the assumption that desire is evil and must be regulated, must be doled out, defined, prescribed.

i don't know what i'm doing half the time but i know i'm tired of feeling bad for being interested in normal things.  i'm tired of being haunted by the tenents of a religion i am not a member of.  i'm tired of all the alarms going off in my ear; alarms i don't agree with and wish i could silence forever.  as the new year approaches i begin to think again of all the dreams i've held close for so many years.  i begin to think of my "night-self" and who that could be.  especially now after having chosen my freedom, after having chosen to write and to go on writing. 

.....

and then i started drinking with my budddy, ate some mexican food, started thinking about theory and sushi.  we said, "i could do a roll...  " and mean while hip-hop does its thing in the background.  we've been talking all night about art, what it means, what it does, how to make it;  and last night at dinner with my beautiful friend Freya, we talked about life and priorities, how life and priorities change based upon era, the era of one's life.  one feels a certain way in their twenties.  one feels a certain way in their thirties.  one feels a certain way in their forties.  so on and so forth.  and here i am, early 30s, horny as hell, apparently normal (relative in all the worst ways), caring only about music and booze and art.  satisfy me.  and if you can't, at least pay attention to me.  let me pant in your ear.  let my image hang on your wall. let my script dance below your eyelids.  i'll take your beard burn if you attempt to take me seriously.

but is that monolithic?  do i need your faith?  do i need your faithfulness?  are we circling back around to the thing i'm complaining about, the thing that harms me, the thing that hurts you?  we are all subjects.  do you feel compromised?  i do.  how do i reconcile this shit and how do we, as a UNION or COMMUNITY proceed.  seth asks , "but how do we have a non-system?"  how do we inter-relate?  if not based on the systems that have already infected us/informed us...  informed our fear?  my fear?  am i afraid of you?  damn right.  you're a fucking monster born to hurt me.  i'm only just now realizing that i am as well.  i am a monster in my own right, especially if you look at me through a Christian/Muslim/Jewish lens.  please look at me through an artistic lens because i am, in fact, an artist and i govern myself with an artistic criteria.  a criteria i hope you will someday examine yourself with and view yourself through.

and now at 3am, i feel useless, semi-embarrassed but somehow still entirely alive.  could this be a condition of my survival.  my friend eddie said "there's a time to make art and there's a time to live.  you gotta have something to make art about."  i look at the text i've hung on my walls: don't cry.  and all i can think is: cry harder.  could that be the way back to what i once "intended"?

return

i want to drink coffee every night between the hours of 10 and 12. a powerful craving hits and, most of the time, if i can at all manage to get away with it, i totally succumb. tonight, is no different. tonight is only unusual in that i actually got off work before 11pm and have the semblance of a free evening to spend as i choose. i had sushi with anne and then curled up in bed with my coffee and computer. 

i am in one of those phases of life again where Time itself seems like a fiction. the Past falls away from me and feels impossible. i look back at certain events and circumstances in disbelief. it seems incredibly unreal. all the lives i've lived before this one suddenly seem so foreign to me. this girl that i am today...  haven't i always been her?  maybe this girl was there behind the window pane all along simply waiting for me to gain enough strength to steady my heart and look her in the eyes.  i got back on the good road of Honesty and instantly retrieved a true sense of self.

i cut my hair. 6 inches off the length but it still falls to the middle of my back. i have fringe again. "change your hair, change your life" becca tells me and she's been absolutely right. i have an entirely new wardrobe. i have a storage unit that houses the old. and the only books i kept with me are german grammar books, the next volume of anais nin's diary i need to read, gina abelkop's poetry, and my great big book of francesca woodman's photographs. all my drawings, save for a few small skull portraits, are in storage too. i kept the sweaters with me though. they are my armor and are always near.  the most recent sweater, the blue one, came about as a result of pure nesseccity.  i needed to work and blue yarn was all i had.  it is hanging on the wall here in my white room, a flag of hope.

the world changed some months ago and this little electric land of mine went silent. i lived without a stable internet connection for just about 4 months. unheard of these days. there were times i'd go 8 straight days without being able to so much as check my email. but, as i fell out of step with the modernity of the rest of the world, i fell in step with an older aspect of myself. i began to believe in myself in an entire new way. or, perhaps, a way i once had but forgot how to summon forth. all the writing i did was private and shitty. all the writing, the feel of it, has been fantastic.

but the tap of the keys is a familiar song. i lean in to it. i fall in to its rhythm and don't question its rightness. i missed this place and the connections it can establish. i missed the dialouge with writers and artists. i missed the way we speak to each other here- a way that is so much more romantic than how we'd speak to each other's faces. i love the drama of it. the urgency.  i even love the emoticons.

i especially love the emoticons. :)


at 3am when i can't sleep i will regret this cup of coffee.

i am spending all my free time apartment hunting and it has not been much fun

so here is a song.



boxes everywhere. bags of clothes for the goodwill. a meeting later today about an art show and an apartment to go check out too. time is burning. i feel like homeboy's coat.

it will all be worth it in a few short weeks.

accuracy is scarce

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i feel it almost all the time. a bare bulb flickering against the dark ceiling. a Beginning. a Preparation. music finds me. i get lost. swept away. away away away. i move through the world while i am deep in my day-dream. roz told me a story. i am trying to gather my steam.

what is this place and who am i when i'm here?

shall i tip-toe back in to this room?

this quiet confessional, all text and light? beaming beaming.

throwing words. tears. longing. sorrow. my sad vomit. so sad i vomit. has that ever happened to you? have you been so sad that your body rebels against you?

my mother's death has sped life up in certain ways. slowed it down in others. the world is an entirely different place now.

i was driving in the dark winding roads back home from work one night and suddenly i said to my self, out loud, "her death is going to impact my life in ways i can't even begin to imagine and it is going to go on like that for years." this is a fact. this is one of the few truths i know and i'm not sad about it. i don't ever want this to stop hurting. i want it to hurt forever. i'll find a way to let it polish me.

there is too much to catalogue. all that has happened. all that is still happening. all that will continue to happen...

for months, i've been recoiling from using this space in certain ways. i needed it to become more artistic, more invested in blogging as a particular form of writing like fiction or poetry. roz thinks it could be Performance. i like that idea. but it remains that i have no clue what i need this space to be anymore. i have no clue about of a lot of things these days.

i'm taking german and pottery at my local community college. i spend a lot of time listening to Rammstein and Bauhaus and Patti Smith, deciding on some level to go ahead and let the goth-girl in me flourish for awhile. let her have her say. my dear friend sent me a tube of bright red lipstick. i've only had the guts to wear it outside once. i think i need to go blonde. and every chance i get, i read Anais Nin's Diary. i'm on volume 2. i see myself in her pages. i know that world. i know those longings. i know those struggles. i can catch a glimpse of the girl behind my reflection... the one who is trying to wake up, trying to talk, trying to Become... if only the outside expectations would stop choking her out. if only i were strong enough to bar them from my life and heart.

but it's safe to say that, with each day that passes, i give less and less of a fuck what people think of me or who they would like me to be... the performance they want, the image they prefer. Lea, Freya, and i talked about feminism while we installed the new show. Lea said "some stories need to continue to be told and i take it as a personal duty to tell them". this made my heart jump and shiver. it made me feel thankful.

this is post 971. i will get to 1000 before i make any decisions about this space. i will let this space twist up on itself, writhe around on the floor, fight to become whatever it is that it needs to become. or else i will kill it. we'll see what we see. but there are no more rules. there are no more requirements about how often i post or what i post. i believe words can work magic. i will be patient, for 30 more posts anyway, and see what finds me.

i sat down with my tea, back in bed with my notebook, in the early morning. black outside. steam and honey in my cup. i scribbled the date - Dec. 15th - and my pen moved no further as i realized there are only 2 weeks left in this month: only 2 weeks left in this year. and i have only just taken a breath. i have only just had a short rest. i look up and we are on to the next thing. i am not complaining. i have finally learned how Good it is to be busy.

life is changing. it has too.

i am changing right along with it.

even this blog is changing. and i guess that makes perfect sense: as i change so do my expressions. i am in an in-between, something of a transition or transformation. and i feel encouraged by this. bare with me while this mirror wobbles and attempts to show my reflection again.

and in the meantime, i twist up new roses and lay the oil down, speeding toward the new year with as much strength as i can muster. we're almost there. finish strong.

signify

the little icon i use as my "picture" here - the severed rope of braided hair - is my hair hung on a lonesome nail. i chopped it off three and a half years ago.

i caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror the other day. my old self. the self i know. the self i remember and feel lonely for. slender from The Almighty Jog, not skinny. and my hair, already grown long and wild with curls again. a fast growth. a fast return. perhaps my hair missed me too. :)

and what a happy glimpse it was. a moment of safety. security. something true. i am returning to myself- ideas i had been discouraged away from, fallen beliefs, poems. they sweep in like dust, like glitter, like hair across the eyes. it is a welcome warmth. a deep quilt full of ink stains and promise.

i know the face in the mirror again. i know the direction of the eyes. i know the lines at the edge of the smile.

i've been crocheting again. making new banners. messages. preparing for winter when i can use my body as a billboard. i will don the signs and signifiers. a quiet(er) performance. a true performance. drape my form in the ideas and modes i cling to. use the structure of skeleton and muscle as if it were a gallery wall. it seems honest. it seems necessary.

and as i twist the yarn through my fingers, over the hook, i return to my previous wide-open definition of ART. i return to the deep knowledge that a painting is no more important than a quilt or poem or necklace. it is all ART. the differences between are just a preference of form. a way to capture the signifiers, harness them, bend them to desire and need.

it is a cold day here. a day for doing the laundry and then returning to bed with my coffee and crochet hook. a day for a quiet(er) happiness.

:)

i have given myself the pleasure of a long easy morning today. i am brewing a half-pot of coffee and cutting out moth shapes from a large beautiful sheet of shiny pewter colored paper. i am very much a crow: attracted to shiny things. :) i am planning on making a huge wreath out of them to hang in the front window. i'll let you know if it works out of not. at any rate, it's fun and joyful and simple. freeing. and the little moths... i think of them as prayers. as hymns. and so i dedicate myself to them like a child: convinced my voice is heard, that my small utterances float off to wherever small utterances float off to- a landscape where such thing plant themselves and grow in to something wild and beautiful.

and also, i am now a free agent.

it feels good to be in a moment where i can just be alone with the work. no plans for it other than to simply do my best and be as honest as possible. the work that's at the gallery now will be there for another week and a half or so before i'm able to pick it up. if there's something you want, please go grab it. i'm going to take a little break from businessy things and not put any pressure on myself to make the work do or be something it is not. financially, i'm taking a pretty big risk right now but it's the right decision to make... the honest decision to make. money shouldn't be allowed to be too big a factor when it comes to doing the right thing. and besides, i'm pretty accustomed to the starving artist lifestyle anyway. :) everything will work out. i have total faith in that. and the gallery believes in me too so i'm feeling very encouraged and hopeful today.

again, the e.e. cummings quote comes in to my head: it takes courage to grow up and be who you really are. the time for courage has most definitely come and i am at an entirely new beginning now. it is scary and exciting at the same time... but i feel very lucky to have this moment. i will enjoy my easy morning and let it morph in to an easy afternoon. there are books i want to curl up with and more moths to cut out.

life is strange and good and crazy, my friends. thank you for returning to this space and listening to me ramble, watching the struggle, and encouraging me to follow my heart. you are absolutely stunning and i appreciate you so much. <3

mmmmm hmmmmm

this is why i like graphite!




where you stand changes things.

ghosts.

there was a strange hollow in me yesterday. all day. persistent. hard. dark. but i painted and ran and took care of all the little things of a day and now, after a long, deep sleep, i am all the better for it.

there are memories that creep up unexpectedly sometimes. all the sharp things a little girl learns not to touch. but i'm not a little girl anymore and i can make my own rules. not all ghosts are bad... even if they are all scary. some ghosts have love in them or are born of love and come creeping slowly, come as a breath to hug you and sigh in your ear. some ghosts are necessary. some of them want to help.

looking for home...

after dinner last night, we all sat around and talked and laughed on the great big veranda at the neighbors house. they told us about funny and wacky camping trips they've been on, all the little sideways adventures and fun... and it dawned on me that my sweetie and i have been on one big sideways adventure since the day we got together. we've moved every year and a half for the passed four and a half years. and though a couple of those were to seize beautiful opportunities, it always makes for a strange transition and re-ordering of life. and come to think of it... my family moved a lot when i was a kid. i didn't grow up in one house. i didn't go to one high school.

anyway, when we moved here a year and a half ago, i couldn't seem to get up the energy to unpack. i think it took me a good 8 months to set our possessions in order. and of course, every time i opened a new box, i saw all sorts of objects that i no longer wanted, no longer needed, and some ghosts tried to get out too. and for the first year of our stay here, our little home has been in a constant state of re-arranging, removing, weeding through, getting rid of, rotating paintings, etc, etc, etc. and as i was telling the neighbors about this last night and watched their eyes change and heard how chaotic it sounds to most people- moving that often - i realized that maybe it took me so long to unpack the boxes because i feared i'd just have to repack them soon enough. my sweetheart and i have lived an a strange moment of upheaval and change for almost 5 years. some of it good, some of it not so good, but we've managed to be good to each other in spite of all that...

and so when i started feeling nervous about the house we looked at, nervous over what a big decision it is, i realized that i'm sort of scared to put down roots... i don't want to have to yank them back up. i don't want to have to relocate anymore. at least not for a few more years. i want to get down to enjoying my daily life and be free of the feeling of impending DOOM of having to move again. it's been hard on both of us and i'm ready to settle down for awhile. i'm ready to build and grow and change IN ONE SPOT. i want to start putting together a show and making plans and all sorts of wonderful things which is so hard to do in a state of flux. tremendously hard. and the longer i'm here in this area, the more i love it, the more i see the value of living in a place like this. i don't want to uproot again and go some place different just yet. i want to keep running through the vineyards with my dog, writing and drawing first thing in the morning, painting and playing. i don't want to lose these things. i want to keep them safe. i want them to grow and get bigger. i want them to weave in and out of my day and i want to feel secure enough to just be happy where i'm at. my sweetie feels the same way. we want a bit of ease and a bit of consistency and all those adult things that once upon a time sounded so boring.