Waxing Eloquent

I have a secret language that I speak inside my head. When I’m feeling brave, I write this way. It’s my own kind of prose, words have a rhythm and sentences flow. Phrases turn and swirl into what I like to call my butterfly language. When I’m honest and I write like this, I feel like it looks weird on paper screen, I’ve only gotten a few good responses when I use this language – I’m afraid it doesn’t make sense. Which is why most of my writing style is more train-of-thought like.
I’ve been introspective lately, and vulnerable – not in a bad way, just….my heart keeps emerging from my chest and wanting to place itself on my sleeve. It’s fluttering about looking for a place to land, leaving me feeling insecure and causing awkward (to me) social hiccups which I, in turn, overcompensate for.

It’s a new stage of me, just like a caterpillar coming out of a cocoon and realizing it’s a butterfly.  The confusion, the vulnerability of feeling so open and exposed, and yet so alive. The first few moments of flying, or attempting to fly probably result in somewhat embarrassing moments – colliding with the earth and bumping into plants, I imagine they feel a little over apologetic too, in this growing stage.
But I realized, as I’ve had a lot of time to think, that this is a good sign. It means I’m evolving, I’m becoming myself and growing. More importantly, I’m growing braver, my masks are coming off and I’m still flying a little awkwardly, still fighting oh so many insecurities that come with exposing myself, my soul coughs and makes messes, but that’s okay.
I am in a vulnerable existence, but one that is very much alive. I will use my prose voice and wax as eloquent as I wish, because…..why not?

Permission


My art journal and painting themes are quickly becoming permission slips for myself. Focusing on granting my heart the thing it needs at that moment and somehow silencing my very loud, harsh, inner critic.
She’s a bitch and always tells me what to do, doesn’t let me sleep when I need to and is generally just cruel. She comes out the most when I need a break, and makes me feel bad about not doing things immediately and has no patience. She claims the world will end if those chores aren’t done right now and berates me when I wait and condescendingly tells me “If you had done it earlier, you wouldn’t have to do it now while you’re trying to do this other thing.” 
Or, her other favorite:
You’re really stupid and worthless, you should have been doing something constructive instead. Something to make money instead of doing all this useless crap. You’re not even good at anything anyway
Somedays, she holds me hostage and I can’t bring myself to do anything (literally).
After wrestling all day with Miss Monday, I realized that art would be the one thing to make her go away. While it’s text and words, is the permission I needed to see and Miss Monday decided to start backing off. Finally.

New Circles

art journal
I’m in a weird place. My support group has sort of eroded and I’m standing in the middle between a place I want to be and being sad because I feel like I’ve lost most of the people who’ve really helped me over the last few years.
Truth is, I’ve moved on. I’m not completely done baking, but my needs are changing, my heart is beating and I’m ready to find myself in the world again.
Most of my support group have moved on too, just in different ways. Many of the childless couples I met – the first childless couples I met after being married – are no longer childless, and others are looking forward to not staying childless. We’re all sort of moving on to new journeys and I feel distant and sad. I’m moving in a different direction – I can’t join them, and I honestly don’t want to – but I feel bad because of how vehemently I react inside. I don’t know if it’s normal because I don’t know many (any?) couples who don’t want children as strongly as I.
But this is life, I suppose. I’m told there are couples like us, who grow old and never have children because they find fulfillment in living life sans crypods, but I don’t really know where to find them. My circle, my support group, my friends who helped me realize that it was okay to find myself and healthy to be me have moved on to different journeys. That group will always be special and valuable to me, but right now, it’s time for me to start on my own journey – my own rebirth. To find my center and dance to the tribal drums. It’s time to find new circles.

When I give myself a voice

and tell myself what I really need and what my motives are, I get this.
soul-speak
And then my brain feels really sheepish about it, like maybe it’s really lame and I’m incapable of mattering or doing things that matter. I think it’s just upset that it kept it hidden and in the shadows for so long, because it feels so scary to say it; and to name the things that drive me and have driven me since I went down that slide in the playground thinking I could be a hero like Balto when I was three.

Before Bed

Every night before I fall asleep (somewhat fitfully) for the last few days I’ve had a running scenario/monologue. This isn’t really new to me, but for some reason it’s been fairly consistent the last few days which is somewhat odd.
I’m a guest on my favorite podcast (nerdist) and we’re talking about something and it always goes back to how I haven’t been to college which leads to me then explaining in detail the scenario of why that is, which leads me to trying to figure out if it’s okay that I don’t have a degree or any formal education after high school. Besides the fact that job odds are ever stacked in the opposite of my favor as far as pay goes – which is for many other reasons than just college, admittedly.
I don’t even know that I think college would make me a better person. I’m basically making myself a job by doing art, web-development stuff, both producing and acting in separate web series(es?), and trying to be healthy/fit. As far as time goes, I constantly need to evaluate how I spend it, and I am doing really cool things with it (in my opinion). I know how to learn, and I’m good at learning.
Honestly, as much as I think about having a steady paying job for myself, I’m not actually looking for one, because I’m enjoying doing “Niche Shoppe job” with my time because of the loveliness of my husband (who enables me to do that, and I don’t take it for granted – I try not to, anyway).
But something in the back of my mind is always there. Things from my past that I haven’t rooted out yet. I feel like college would somehow be a culmination of an inner need to tell myself that I can do it, and I don’t have to be the person I thought I was “supposed” to be, and that I’m not turning into that (obviously, the person I thought I was “supposed” to be would look absolutely nothing like me, and she’d have bad hair).
But I don’t have the money. Or the time, frankly. As much as I would love to someday, and may make that a goal in the future, I have other things calling my name – establishing myself, and my series(es), and my art, and taking care of me, and proving to myself that just because I don’t clock in at 9 and out at 5 and don’t actually get a paycheck (yet?) that what I’m doing is just as relevant; and just because I occasionally work in a bathrobe and do things from the comfort of our apartment doesn’t mean that I’m the definition of a “housewife”.
Because I’m really not.
I’m looking at you, dinner.
And dishes, I hate you.
With a passion.
 

Beautiful Champion

I wrote a letter a few weeks ago, to myself in the future. It’s not something I do out of habit, but one of my friends – a kindred soul – inspired me to try a few weeks ago. What I thought was going to be something I saved and read to myself 10 years from now, turned out to be something more powerful, and something more….real. As I slowly become brave in myself, and learn who I am {becoming} and who I want to be…I find that deep down, the answers have been there all along, voices just waiting to be heard – beats meant to be danced to.
I feel almost as self conscious writing this, as I did when I wrote the letter.

I called myself Beautiful Champion, because that is who I want to become; and when I read my letter to myself, not 10 years from now, but when I read it adressed to myself now – I knew somehow, that’s not who I hope to become, but who I am. I feel, far, far, short of that title – I fail myself probably more than I fail anyone else – but my soul cries and it resonates, and somehow that truth penetrates.
Dear beautiful champion,
Your bravery, heart, and imagination inspire. Your strength, love, and passion help people you don’t even see. Your grace and empathy makes you safe for people to come to and discover that it’s okay to be themselves, as you are yourself. Your journey, your pain, your path, and your discovery are all important, while hard, parts of your journey and your story. You wouldn’t be who you are without the painful and sad pieces, because those enable you to understand what other people are incapable of imagining. 
Unwittingly, I wrote truths that I needed in this moment – truths that I battle to find all the time. Which is probably why, when I let my heart speak and write the words, I found exactly what I needed to find.
You beautiful, strong, compassionate champion – may feel lost at times, but don’t let that stop you from your journey – your journey to be and become and realize your full potential, you who truly are. Never stop growing, dear one – you are more important than you realize.

Aletheia

The girl who circumnavigated Fairyland in a ship of her own making

I saw this book at work after the fundraiser, and knew I just had to buy it. The title alone completely grabbed my attention and I can’t wait to delve into September’s world.

But the title.

The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making.  Just resonates.

I don’t know why, but it just feels empowering, I feel braver, stronger and capable somehow just looking at the name.

Maybe it’s because inside I yearn to be that, and I have occasional moments of feeling it. Lately, for instance, I’ve been feeling a bit more confident and glancing over the last year, I’ve become more brave, more myself, at least on the inside even if I haven’t shown it much publicly. But I want to.

In 2012 I’m going to continue my journey to me. I’m going to try to be more of the person I am and want to be inside myself. I want to reinvent, to be new and real. I want to continue to remove the layers of masks that have been my image and my persona in the past and get to the truth of who I am, the me that I once knew and abandoned . A friend of mine has been writing about words for the  year, and how she wants to be unafraid. I’ve sort of stumbled upon mine…Aletheia.

An anonymous card I received recently was signed as that. Which, according to wikipedia

Aletheia (ἀλήθεια) is a Greek word variously translated as “unclosedness”, “unconcealedness”, “disclosure” or “truth“. The literal meaning of the word λήθεια is “the state of not being hidden; the state of being evident” and it also implies sincerity, as well as factuality or reality.

I’ve been thinking about that lately, and how it uncannily describes me right now, what I crave to discover and to become. A journey I’ve started and continue to travel. So in 2012, the year I turn 21 (and no one can make fun of me for not being 21 anymore – score!) I want to become aletheia bravely, and unashamedly me.

I want to be the girl who circumnavigated her world in a ship of her own making, and I think I’m closer to that than I ever have been.

Rambling

I get lost in my own little world sometimes. Thoughts jump from one topic and phrase to the next in a high speed chase while I keep my hands busy and let my brain work itself out. I did that today, while deep cleaning my kitchen in a race against the two loads of laundry I had going. I let my thoughts fade in and out of reality – sometimes paying complete attention to the music on my phone and others getting lost in the swirls of brown goop from cleaning the stove, so that it was nearly invisible.
Of course, I couldn’t actually tell you what I was thinking about, because I don’t remember more than bits, and not in any way that makes sense. But I enjoyed the process of cleaning and losing myself to whatever world my thoughts took me into. I think that helps me clean sometimes, being able to bounce my attention between music and cleaning and thoughts while still doing the same thing and racing the clock.
When I was driving this weekend I let the oranges of the leaves on the trees through the hills seep into my mind as I created a world (that looked suspiciously like something from Dr. Seuss) full of color and breezes and bubbles. The plant outside the restaurant was swaying to the music from inside.
And I had a really weird brainstorm on a comic, which seemed brilliant in the fog of just waking up…it’s lame now.
I’m getting better at letting myself go and not hold back – at least, inside the confines and safety of my own mind. I accidentally tried a new painting technique as I got lost in the texture and how the paint and the palette knife acted against the canvas.
Getting lost.
has become so much…easier as I’ve learned to let myself just be. By repeating over and over the things my soul needs to hear and keeping words on mirrors. Getting lost makes me come alive.

Heart on Sleeves #authenticthursday

I’m used to treading with caution, and when I wear my heart in the open I feel so vulnerable. I usually keep my deepest and truest opinions to myself and people I really trust because of the amount of work and soul I put into discovering the things that are solid at the moment. I’ve learned that opinions and perspective change as you learn more and experience more, so I’ve stopped trying to put myself and my opinions into a box that I won’t allow to change. Because the evolution of thought and learning, I feel, is essential to being human. At least it is for me.
So it takes a while to work up the courage to wear my heart on my sleeve, here, sometimes. Especially with something I know might not be taken well, but has been weighing on me and keeps coming back into my thought process that I feel the only way to make it click and articulate it properly is to write it out and let it be. Maybe soon, when this particular muse strikes back in sentences and cohesion I’ll allow myself, and my heart to say the thoughts that have been circling. But not today, I’m not ready yet.

plans (authentic Thursday)

Sometimes I have so many ideas, or really good ideas are given to me, that it all ends up in a jumble of stuff that I really want to do, and really want to do NOW. But there’s so much of it that it never really ends up going anywhere. So I made a system. It’s not really a system, it’s actually just a list. That way, I can write down all the ideas I have and want to do, so when I need something to do I can look at it, or if I forget one, I have a place to go and remember and in general it just promotes brainstorming. I had one of these moments last night, and this is what I ended up with:
Idea ListAlex suggested the idea of making a web-comic to me and I really liked it. I just have to come up with a story and stuff, but first I need to finish illustrating my current project. Although, I have a bit more motivation now, because I’m going to try and not let myself move on until the illustrating is done and I have a really good story idea. I have a few, none of them are really fleshed out and I’m contemplating the idea of doing a couple one-shots or collaborating with Alex. I could also use some of the material that I wrote years ago and put a twist on it…
Earlier this week I had a really cool idea for a painting which I practically laid out completely, because I don’t want to forget my initial idea for it.
I’d also really like to start waking up earlier than I currently do, because winter is coming which means it’ll start getting dark at 3pm and that absolutely drives me nuts. If I stay on my current schedule (going to bed at 2am and waking up at 12:30) I’d barely get 3 hours of daylight, and I did that before and I was miserable. So I’m thinking maybe waking up in the am and not just going to bed then would help with my winter blues…and if I woke up before Alex, I could do some exercises and be less grumpy (I’m so not a morning person).
My problem is that as much as I really want to, when the alarm goes off I’m going to definitely *not* want to so I need some kind of motivation. Maybe I’ll check and see what cartoons are on, and I’ll start slow. Or maybe I’ll promise myself blueberry pancakes that are toast-able.
I love and hate the feeling of having so many ideas and dreams and plans but not really being sure how to do them. It’s overwhelming in a good way but it feels like a lot, and for me, I need *reasons* to do the stuff that I know I should but lack motivation to do. Even petty reasons…like if Phineas and Ferb are on in the mornings, or something to get my energy up about it if I just feel like sitting and not doing anything. I know it makes me feel bad, and doing things: art, working out, writing, whatever, make me feel better. But sometimes that’s not quite enough to pull me out of my fog. The most helpful thing I’ve discovered is dragging around one of our photography lights so I trick myself into thinking there’s sun (I’m more energetic on sunny days). It’s weird. And yet, I want to move to PDX someday. Sometimes I don’t even make sense to myself.
On an unrelated note, I found this a on pinterest a while ago, and I’ve been wanting to share it because it’s so…. me right now.
I am on a Journey...with my work, my explorations, and a few sad stories. I travel with a suitcase full of outrageous blessings. I am on a quest for truth, beauty, and quiet joy. I am an artist, a writer, an explorer.