Post #30 of 30

Blogalong success! Again, I don't really have any art to post - my CEO has been keeping me really busy this week! But since I usually blog today about what I did yesterday, I figured I'd just give you the run down.

This is how I'm making sure these buttons are correctly sized on all pages of this website:

Me & Liam sang "Happy Birthday" to my niece in Florida:

I made tacos the way Kelly taught me!

And I colored my hair:

Look cute right there, doesn't it? Nothing like the sloppy ponytail it's usually in. 

Ivan

This is my iPad, who I've named Ivan. Ivan the iPad, it amuses me!

I got it for digital art. Sketching, journaling, all that stuff. It's the latest generation, 128 gig, blah, blah, blah. Everything a graphic designer could hope for. I got apps. Every art app recommended by people teaching iPad art classes: Ink, Paper by 53, Concepts, 123D Sculpt, My Sketch Paper, Adobe Ideas, Penultimate, Sketchbook Pro, PS Touch, Dailybook, ArtStudio, Noteshelf, ArtRage, Paperless, Day One, Procreate, Brushes, Bamboo Paper, vJournal, Fit Paper, Inspire Pro, Pattern Brush, ArtTree, Scrapnote, Jotter. And yet...I haven't made a single piece of digital art. Zero. Oh, I've started a couple of things, a journal page or two, played with some apps, downloaded some brushes. But no art. Yesterday, Kelly asked me "Why are we afraid to make art on our iPads?" and I have an answer. I'm not afraid - I have no fear of the blank page or computer screen or whatever. It's not fear that stops me. It's that when I'm journaling, when I'm sketching, when I'm pouring my heart into my work - I want to feel it. I want to touch the texture. I want to feel the pen scratch across the page. I want to dip my brush in paint and spread it across the paper. Yes, I think it's cool when you can simulate that with a digital brush. But I can't FEEL it happening. I told Kelly what we should do is forbid ourselves to do any other kind of art for a month and force ourselves to use the iPads. She said we'd never make it, and I'm sure she's right - I doodle on EVERYTHING. I'm not sure what the solution is, or if there is one. We'll see!

Only Human

Sometimes I get caught up in people's expectations. I "have to" do this, go there, be whatever. Not lately. Everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, changed for me when Tami died. I am only one person. I have thoughts and feelings and they are valid and they matter. I left a family party abruptly on 8/25 - it was exactly five months since I lost my friend, I was at a cousin's house who I called when their dog died and who didn't reach out to me at all when my friend did, and I'd been there for three and a half hours. I left without saying good bye, without saying thank you...I just left. And it's OK. It's totally fine. I don't even care what they think. I needed to leave and I did. I needed to curl up on the couch and cry and watch the white butterflies outside my window and I did. I needed to journal and I did. No one has to understand me or my life or my grief. No one has to accept it. They can be angry, think I'm "wrong", think whatever they want. I can't care. I just can't. I am getting through one day, one hour, one minute at a time and it's OK.

Chaos & Hope

I think I'm going to make this one into a "real" painting. On canvas or wood or something. For now it's just in my journal, making me smile. The quote is from Bones, my very favorite TV show. 

Real life drawing?

Sometimes I think that I want to journal my days. My everyday life. Everyday Matters kinds of things, you know? Then I remember that I like to draw girls with blue hair and purple eyes. But I've enjoyed working in lots of different journals lately AND I've been writing a lot more in my journals, so maybe I'll stick with it! (Or maybe not, you know me...)

Today I felt the urge to paint my coffee cup. 

It looks pretty wobbly here, but it looked a lot better after I outlined it!

And then I journaled.

White Butterflies

I've been seeing them ever since Tami died. I know people are probably tired of hearing about her. But, you see, I can't help talking about her. I've always talked about her to people. I have lots of stories. Lots of pictures. Lots of memories.

I assumed they were moths, I though all the brown, black, and white butterflies were moths. But it's possible they're not. I Googled it, of course. She loved butterflies, which is obvious, I guess considering the tattoo.

It was hers and now it's mine. She loved all things Celtic. I have the most beautiful journal she got me in Scotland. I'm rambling.

Anyway, people keep tell me about all the beautiful blue butterflies they've seen since she died. Honestly, I'm a little jealous. I've only seen one butterfly with color in the past five months. Every single butterfly, save that one, has been white. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. There are several outside my new apartment - front and back. There was one fluttering around the pizza place we found. I want to think they're from her. Or of her. Or something. I don't really think that, but I want to.

Today it's been exactly five months since she died. I still feel lost. Alone. Afraid of the future and what it holds and how to handle it without her. And I feel strong. Determined. Capable. But mostly I feel her loss every minute of every day. I miss my friend.

98% Excited 2% Scared

Journaling in my new place. Big things are coming my way. New, big, amazing changes. I'm excited and terrified. Sometimes there's a lot to say and I LOVE how the writing is a mess around her.  Usually I paint over most of the writing, but I'm thinking I'll leave this visible. I really like it!