in the Morning

The day is just beginning.  I can see small hints of a muted grey-blue sky out my windows.  Sun's not up yet. 

I like being up before the sun.

I feel fall in me.  I feel of it's richness and depth - it's great joy, and sometimes strange pain.  Somedays, as I am driving up and down Parley's, I have been so overwhelmed by the beauty of the canyon that I have started to cry.

Fall time encourages thoughts and feelings of home.  I am not speaking of where I grew up - but rather, the place I long to be.  I love where I live - L Street.  It's the most home I have ever felt in a place since leaving home over 10 years ago and moving over 30 times.  I am happy with L Street.  Gloria helps this place feel like home.  Sometimes in the evenings, when I am in my bathroom, I can hear jazz music coming from her kitchen through the vents in the floor and it always puts a smile on my face.  I feel like I live in New York City or Chicago - you know - those apartments where you have the downstairs neighbor who plays jazz in the evenings.  Also - when Gloria is referring to the house, she calls it "our" house.  And it melts my heart to hear that I belong here.  I have a garage where I can park my car.  A cellar where I can store my things, a washer and dryer for my dirty clothes and a big front porch..

But at the age of 29, what I own by way of furnishings, is very basic.  An old couch, a newer chair, a side table with a great lamp that casts a warm glow.  My sisters rug, a cheap cupboard/table thing and a small kitchen table with four chairs that I got from my other sister, who got it from my other sister.  Along with a drafting table and some small, short shelves for some books - that pretty much covers it.  Oh - I have a bed with a nightstand.  I do have that too!   

I am content with my belongings.  They fill the rooms adequately and appropriately.  But the other day I was in my space, and feeling fall, I felt how much home I am lacking.  It's the details that make the difference, and it's the details I do not have.  I have been cautious about bringing items into my apartment.  I have thought I wanted to take the minimalists approach and have nothing but the bare necessities, with maybe one or two paintings on the wall - you know...uber modern.  Maybe that's my excuse for a design scheme because that's all I can do right now - minus the painting.  As I thought of what this space should be, but is not, I felt very empty inside and started to cry.  (so I cry these days!)   

Dark wood, floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with dog-eared books of all genres.  Pictures on the walls and tables in various frames capturing various moments of life and friends.  A big handmade multi-colored afghan folded over the couch. Maybe a TV on a small TV stand somewhere.  A funky rug that is my own.  Artwork.  Side/end tables that don't match.  Mugs that were picked up on various trips.  A neat sculpture found at a flea-market.  A mirror with a really random ornate frame. And old record player for your vinyl.  A small box that was a gift, filled with spare change.   The scent of apples and cinnamon subtly suspended.  A friend sitting on the couch, listening to music while drinking hot cocoa in aforementioned mugs, and talking about random stuff while flipping through the pages of a magazine that came from the magazine rack.  Wabi-sabi; the comfort of time, imperfection and familiarity.

Details make a house feel lived in.  Time makes a house feel lived in.  They show that you live life, experience life - and that's what I am lacking.  The details you can't force - they come to you as they will, but you have to be open to them.  I am not talking about clutter either.  I abhor clutter - and do have some of that, but it's very little and I keep it under good control.  I am just talking about life, being surrounded by life.  

*****

When I woke this morning, I woke in pain.  From the top of my head to the tip of my toes.  All in pain.  I got up and took some medicine and came back to bed with my computer.  Now I am going back to sleep.

What Would You Title It

Monday Musings

Today I quit my day job and became an artist.

Last fall I heard the song "Resistance" by Muse.  I am a sucker for introductions and this song has a great one.  So I listened to it.  Many times.  Then I decided to create an artwork for the song.  And a year later I finished it.  YouTube It

I think I'll ask for my job back tomorrow.

I am a continual work in progress

as we all are.  and will always be.


although sometimes, especially as of late, I feel like I am a continual work in regress, and soon the threads of the canvas will be so unraveled I won't even feel human anymore.

I used to not talk much - by way of offering my thoughts and opinions.  I think it may have been because I was scared if I had any opinions or thoughts, they would be wrong, and I didn't want to embarrass myself or make me a fool in front of others - but mostly I was afraid of wrong.  So I kept very quiet and remained somewhat opinion-less cause sometimes, it was just easier that way.

one day I got a real job at a real landscape architecture firm.  here I became known as the E.F. Hutton of the group..."when E.F. Hutton talks, people listen."  I don't think it was because what I said was so wise and profound, but rather, they so rarely heard my opinion, that when I did give it - people did listen because they were in such shock that I was speaking up. 

then I left my job and started my own landscape design business.

now I had to talk.  and that talking had to revolve around my opinions and ideas, which, all of the sudden I was expected to give if I expected to survive.  now, if I would have chosen to be a storyteller or an actress as a profession, I could have gotten around it all..."here, just read this..."

the past three.five years has been a steep and sometimes sharp learning curve for me as I have had to learn how to talk, communicate and give my opinions.  I have had to overcome the unhealthy fear of 'being wrong' and have had to learn what my opinions were and are...and then had to learn to modify them time and time again because sometimes, you just don't know what your opinions are until you start talking about them, hearing others, and have lots of experience.

so I have learned a lot about talking and communicating.  A LOT.  still learning... almost as if it's been a foreign language for the past 29 years.  And with all of this learning has come lots of mistakes...more off-key notes than on.  Sometimes sharp, sometimes flat.  And at the end of each experience, be it a blunder or a success - I do try to learn from it and not hit the same wrong note twice (yeah right).  all of the above has been written using the past tense - but really, this is what I am currently in the middle of.  and I think we all are, but instead of being at level 29, I am at the lovely level 14, or 17...a rough and trying level.   

and lately I feel like I have been hitting a lot of wrong notes.  my only hope is that this instrumental parallel holds true to the fact that you can't ever play or perform flawlessly or accomplished, until and unless you have played imperfectly and as an amateur.  how many years do parents endure of their children making a raucous, rather than music?  they all do.  how many children want to quit because they don't believe they'll ever get past making a raucous, and it will always be a tedious and frustrating challenge, not to mention sometimes boring?  they all do.  i hope.  and then once you have mastered the level 1 and 2 stuff, you get to feel like a fool all over again as you play at more advanced levels 3 and 4...and the cycle of mistakes and accomplishment repeats itself all the way up to whatever level you're willing to take it to...

Phew.

A few things I am learning on this rocky road of talking and communicating:

I am learning (the hard way)...

*****
to not be scared of wrong
to accept doing wrong as I do, - and then gracefully, learn from it, fix it and become better and do right 
letting go of perfectionism without losing integrity
that perfectionism is a kind of self-centeredness
perfectionism and being my best are not the same thing
perfectionism is focused on self, being my best self is focused on something outside of self
many times I come to the best conclusions by talking out loud all the stupid ideas first
to not be afraid of my ideas
to not be afraid to talk 
to rationally stand up for myself, my thoughts and opinions
be willing to listen and the modify my thoughts and opinions as needs be
don't self-sacrifice at the expense for something of a lesser value
to always be kind
show and feel respect to all, indifferent of their station in life
be honest
be sincere 
be punctual
have a sense of humor
mean what you say - follow through
don't judge
don't take personal offense
don't criticize
be mindful of how you react to situations, especially stressful ones
don't talk about others negatively, a.k.a. gossip
remember to breath
don't jump to conclusions
sometime I wish texting wasn't the medium for certain types of conversations, it can easily go awry
don't assume
have confidence in myself
smile
learn to laugh out loud
be wise as a serpent, and harmless as a dove
forgive openly, readily and sincerely and hope that others forgive me

*****

Sat down to post.  Trying to post.  Have started and started again.  Nothing is sticking...


So I'll just post this:

I've starting looking for the perfect leather jacket.

Blogging

I was out with a friend yesterday evening.  We were talking about bucket lists.  Of course, places to see and experience were on the forefront of that conversation.  I then asked if he had anything on his bucket list that was not a geographical location. Building a website was his answer - but he wasn't sure what it would be for or be about - and then made some comment how he's not a "blogger"... that he's not vain like that.

LOL.

I didn't say anything...about blogs or blogging, or that I have one and in the past have used it.  A lot.

I didn't tell him I was vain.  I think I should have.

What is on my bucket list that is not a geographical location??  A book.  I want to write a book.  About what.  I don't know - I write best from experiences, my experiences... (kind of like my blog), it must be woven and entwined within me for me to be able to write with any conviction or real feeling.  So as the minutes and hours pass I occasionally think about writing a book.  And this isn't new.  I actually tried starting one about 5 or 6 years ago, as I was encouraged by my dear friend Steven K - he still asks me about it, but it never made it past the napkin that came with the complimentary ginger ale on my way home from New York.

I actually do wrestle on and off about writing and blogging/writing about myself or my life as I experience it.  I wonder why I write, and if I should write and who cares to read about my life or thoughts anyways.  Is it indeed a selfish, and self-centered hobby to have?  But, then I think about all the books and stories and writings that I love to read - I love to read about others' lives.  I love to know what they are experiencing and feeling and thinking because then I don't feel so alone in my own thoughts.

"We read to know we're not alone."

And so maybe we write, so others know they're not alone.

A note from a visitor

I haven't really written in a while...I have posted, but not written - and my posting has been pathetic at that. But today I received a comment on my blog:

I enjoy your writing. Just happen to come across you under "Next Blog" and I have never made a comment before to an unknown blogger, so, here goes. I enjoyed your "100 Things About Me" and as a title for your painting, um, "Chicken in a Sombrero Driving Armored Car?" Yeah, I'm from the midwest.

Wow - I am very flattered.   Maybe I should start composing and posting writings again.  Maybe that would be an okay thing.  Oh - and I absolutely LOVE the title for my painting: Chicken in a Sombrero Driving Armored Car.  Yep.