Monday, June 17, 2013
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Drowning
My best friend died Monday. She was 31. I'm drowning in it. I'm not OK. I don't give a fuck whose plan it was. I don't care about finding the good in the damn grief. I don't know who I am without her. I don't understand the world without her. I feel nothing but heaviness. Weight. Confusion. My head is fuzzy, my heart is beyond broken. It is simply unbelievable that I can't pick up the phone and hear her voice on the other end. Unconditional love is a rare thing. For twenty years, since we were idiot kids, we've been friends. She's been a part of my every damn day. What the fuck? What the fuck do I do? Say? I don't know what the fuck to DO. I don't want to do anything. Her husband and I are walking around like zombies while everyone around us scrambles to make decisions about STUPID CRAP. I don't care what fucking container her damn ashes are in. I don't give a fuck. She doesn't give a fucking fuck. Clearly, I'm melting down. I don't even know that this is the place to talk about it, but I don't know when (if) I'll be able to blog here again. She read my blog. In London, in Ireland, wherever the fuck she lived. You don't care, I know, I just can't seem to stop babbling, even in my own head. I'm angry. Today, yesterday, probably for a while. I'm fucking angry.
Friday, March 15, 2013
A New Way of Thinking
Today I took an hour. And you know what? I didn't feel like I stole it. Like I was robbing Peter (work, school, family, etc) to pay Paul (myself). I wasn't anxious or freaked out like I usually am when I "take" time for myself. I went to Barnes & Noble and looked at some web design books, got a frap and a cookie, then went to the library and journaled.
There is a LOT going on in my life (as I've told you several times lately), but there is even more than I've shared here, more than I'm comfortable talking about...sort of. The thing is, I'm not used to an abundance of "good" stuff. I don't get a lot of "lucky" stuff in my life, which is totally fine. My life is steady. I'm not wealthy, but I'm certainly not poor. We're in the middle. I've always kind of been in the middle. Not in a wishy-washy, afraid to stand out, don't know how to make a statement way, just in the life is unremarkable to anyone but me kind of way. I tend to mistrust. Mostly myself, if I'm being honest. Oh, not for things like being on time or getting a job done. But when there's NOT a right or wrong answer. Making a quilt for my sister in law, after the first block I got paranoid and texted her to see if she would like it. Surprise? Blown. Sanity? Saved. I am a creative person, but I don't necessarily enjoy sharing that with others because others judge. 2+2 always = 4, but "pretty" is in the eye of the beholder. Graphic design is not as much about "principles" and the "rule of thirds" anymore. It's about whether or not things are appealing to the eye. Do they grab your attention? Will they bring in enough business? I am SUPER insecure about these things, especially because I find so many commercials and slogans and crap like that off-putting and nonsensical. If that's what appeals to the majority of people or to test audiences or whatever, I feel doomed to failure. But lately I've been NOT failing. Good things are happening. According to a good friend, the universe is filling a void left behind by something else.
I feel like I should be scared and insecure. That's my normal pattern. But the same friend said "Why not change your pattern of thinking?" That I was allowed to freak out and embrace the fear if I wanted to, of course, because that's my choice. But that maybe I didn't need it. Maybe the gut-wrenching panic whenever someone suggests that I might be not awful at something is worth considering. Maybe it's time to let go of the panic.
Now, I'm still panicking a little bit, of course. But nowhere near what would be a normal level for me. This morning I was thinking of the line from Armageddon...98% excited 2% scared...or it could be 2% excited, 98% scared. I should be 98% scared, but I'm not. Maybe good shit is supposed to happen. We'll see, I guess. I mean good shit has to happen to somebody, why not me?
Close up of the girl:
There is a LOT going on in my life (as I've told you several times lately), but there is even more than I've shared here, more than I'm comfortable talking about...sort of. The thing is, I'm not used to an abundance of "good" stuff. I don't get a lot of "lucky" stuff in my life, which is totally fine. My life is steady. I'm not wealthy, but I'm certainly not poor. We're in the middle. I've always kind of been in the middle. Not in a wishy-washy, afraid to stand out, don't know how to make a statement way, just in the life is unremarkable to anyone but me kind of way. I tend to mistrust. Mostly myself, if I'm being honest. Oh, not for things like being on time or getting a job done. But when there's NOT a right or wrong answer. Making a quilt for my sister in law, after the first block I got paranoid and texted her to see if she would like it. Surprise? Blown. Sanity? Saved. I am a creative person, but I don't necessarily enjoy sharing that with others because others judge. 2+2 always = 4, but "pretty" is in the eye of the beholder. Graphic design is not as much about "principles" and the "rule of thirds" anymore. It's about whether or not things are appealing to the eye. Do they grab your attention? Will they bring in enough business? I am SUPER insecure about these things, especially because I find so many commercials and slogans and crap like that off-putting and nonsensical. If that's what appeals to the majority of people or to test audiences or whatever, I feel doomed to failure. But lately I've been NOT failing. Good things are happening. According to a good friend, the universe is filling a void left behind by something else.
I feel like I should be scared and insecure. That's my normal pattern. But the same friend said "Why not change your pattern of thinking?" That I was allowed to freak out and embrace the fear if I wanted to, of course, because that's my choice. But that maybe I didn't need it. Maybe the gut-wrenching panic whenever someone suggests that I might be not awful at something is worth considering. Maybe it's time to let go of the panic.
Now, I'm still panicking a little bit, of course. But nowhere near what would be a normal level for me. This morning I was thinking of the line from Armageddon...98% excited 2% scared...or it could be 2% excited, 98% scared. I should be 98% scared, but I'm not. Maybe good shit is supposed to happen. We'll see, I guess. I mean good shit has to happen to somebody, why not me?
Close up of the girl:
The brown smudge is chocolate - I dropped part of my cookie :)
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Not the first...or the last
"We didn't want to be the first ones in." A little tiny old lady told me at the restaurant the other day. We open at eleven am and she and her husband had been sitting in their car for fifteen minutes before I even unlocked the doors.
I pondered this. My husband is the same way. Can't be the first one to an event or a party, can't eat the last cookie when we're at a friend's. I am not that kind of person at all. Not even a little bit. I don't care what the workers at Michaels think of me if I'm sitting in my car outside the doors for a few minutes before they open. And no one wants to put away one freaking cookie.
My son has somehow gotten it into his little head that he doesn't want to eat or use the last of something. I'll ask if he's eaten breakfast and he'll say "I was going to have poptarts but there's only one pack left. Can we buy some more?" Nope, not until that last pack is gone. Then we'll buy some more. When Hostess was going out of business, do you think I savored my last box of Zingers? Sure didn't. Ate them just like I always do.
Yesterday we took Liam to the Mall of America to play at Nickelodeon Universe. My mom wanted to know if it was a special occasion. No, Mom. It was just Tuesday. Why NOT go to the MOA? Why wait for a special occasion? Why wait for someone else to be in the store? Why not eat the cookie if you want it? When someone tells me I only live once and they're talking about how they stayed out all night drinking and came to work the next morning hungover, I tell them they're a dumbass. Yes, you DO only live once. So why not make the most of it? Why not do the right things since you don't get a second chance? Why not go somewhere silly and expensive on a random Tuesday?
I pondered this. My husband is the same way. Can't be the first one to an event or a party, can't eat the last cookie when we're at a friend's. I am not that kind of person at all. Not even a little bit. I don't care what the workers at Michaels think of me if I'm sitting in my car outside the doors for a few minutes before they open. And no one wants to put away one freaking cookie.
My son has somehow gotten it into his little head that he doesn't want to eat or use the last of something. I'll ask if he's eaten breakfast and he'll say "I was going to have poptarts but there's only one pack left. Can we buy some more?" Nope, not until that last pack is gone. Then we'll buy some more. When Hostess was going out of business, do you think I savored my last box of Zingers? Sure didn't. Ate them just like I always do.
Yesterday we took Liam to the Mall of America to play at Nickelodeon Universe. My mom wanted to know if it was a special occasion. No, Mom. It was just Tuesday. Why NOT go to the MOA? Why wait for a special occasion? Why wait for someone else to be in the store? Why not eat the cookie if you want it? When someone tells me I only live once and they're talking about how they stayed out all night drinking and came to work the next morning hungover, I tell them they're a dumbass. Yes, you DO only live once. So why not make the most of it? Why not do the right things since you don't get a second chance? Why not go somewhere silly and expensive on a random Tuesday?
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Work doodles...
Don't tell!! I actually liked her a lot except she's SUPER crooked and I don't like the broken neck look. I wish she was in my journal and NOT the reservation book at work.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Crossing Over
To the Dark Side. C'mon, come with me! I've been struggling with an "all or nothing" kind of thing with my journaling and I'm tired of it. I say that I want everything in one journal, but it's really not true. But then I get all confused and screwy about where I DO want things. That face down there - that was a crooked, ugly doodle I did in the dark at school one night.
This is the bottom half of her paper on a journal page I didn't have time to do, but I needed to squeeze out the time to do it and so I did.
And here is the journal spread at school, where I took my sharpies and colored in the letters.
Seen this quote before? Sure, in my OTHER journal. The cheap thoughts journal that I write lists and notes and scribble shit in. WHY can't it be in both? Why? Why do I have to decide where it goes? People are WRONG in their silly "a place for everything" nonsense. I like to have pencils EVERYWHERE. There are pencils in every room of my house, including the bathroom and the kitchen. You never know when you're going to need to write something down. I like pencils. Of course, if they were in a drawer somewhere, I'd know where they were every time I wanted one, and I get the value in that when we're talking about car keys. But art? It can be whatever I want it to be. My journals are for me, and I don't LIKE carrying the fine art one to school, but I need something to draw on/with/near at school. So here is my solution: let them cross over. I'm going to doodle that freaking quote everywhere I wanna and if that means it ends up in both journals seventeen times, then it does. Try and stop me!
This is the bottom half of her paper on a journal page I didn't have time to do, but I needed to squeeze out the time to do it and so I did.
And here is the journal spread at school, where I took my sharpies and colored in the letters.
Seen this quote before? Sure, in my OTHER journal. The cheap thoughts journal that I write lists and notes and scribble shit in. WHY can't it be in both? Why? Why do I have to decide where it goes? People are WRONG in their silly "a place for everything" nonsense. I like to have pencils EVERYWHERE. There are pencils in every room of my house, including the bathroom and the kitchen. You never know when you're going to need to write something down. I like pencils. Of course, if they were in a drawer somewhere, I'd know where they were every time I wanted one, and I get the value in that when we're talking about car keys. But art? It can be whatever I want it to be. My journals are for me, and I don't LIKE carrying the fine art one to school, but I need something to draw on/with/near at school. So here is my solution: let them cross over. I'm going to doodle that freaking quote everywhere I wanna and if that means it ends up in both journals seventeen times, then it does. Try and stop me!
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