Starving Artist Ink.

i finally got my act together and ordered greeting cards! they are oh.so.very.beautiful!

the card stock is lovely and heavy and mmm…

i’m just waiting for the delivery guy to bring my shipping lovelies and these will be on their way into the shop, and  hopefully- through your letterbox!

unable to articulate.
a need to learn to listen.
pulling away from… i don’t know what.
following intuition. no rushing… no worrying. no projecting my ______ onto.into. someone else.
needing balance.

finding practice.
i ‘rolled out the mat’ (found a blanket to put on the hard floor) to begin 30 days of yoga… i began by trying to find my breath… one stretch and pose- nose against the floor, it feels good… i could stay in this stretch for hours… only. there’s dust bunnies and crumbs lurking under the couch, and i’m getting a really good view of them from here… i can’t find my breath anyway- no matter how hard i try, i can’t breathe deep enough. those fucking crumbs staring me in the face..  close my eyes… trying to quiet my mind- but all i can think of is how i can’t breathe deep enough. open wide enough. all i can think about are those damn crumbs.  this instructor on this video is going too fast- i don’t want to move into that yet, i want to stay right here until i feel ready… pause. this isn’t working, those crumbs are my distraction.
so i get up- and sweep.. throw away and purge crap. organize a few things… write a few e-mails that i’ve been meaning to do. ignore a few others that i should work on. pull out some paper and paint. put the baby girl to sleep in the ergo and claim that i’ve tried today.

i’m working on self discipline. and i’m realising that right now- i really don’t want to work on discipline with my creative. i like the ebb and flow, the highs and lows- i don’t want to work her on a schedule… it doesn’t sound pleasurable to paint on demand.
i’m already in month three of giving up soda- though i had a coke while in dublin the other day- desperately looking for food to eat after a 3 hour bus journey, and 3 hour wait in the embassy. fast food will do… let’s hurry up and catch the next 3.5 hour bus home.  not punishing myself for that, or necessarily counting it as anything. i like this… it feels good.

30 days of yoga/meditation. coming soon.. i will… not as a challenge, not because i want to prove anything… but because i want to.

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watching my baby girl discover her world has got to be one of the most. oh. oh oh. what a treasure. i do know how very lucky i am to be able to be home with her- to have this time… to have these moments. i am oh so rich in life- i don’t think you could pay me anything to give this time away.

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the sky is brightly blue, tranquil, calm… breathing and sighing heavily.
under the same sky, i wonder how she’s treating everyone else…

i have a few blog posts written, but i have them on hold. incomplete.
stream of conscious writing beginning now.

i love that i was inspired recently, had  a muse to play with. no one seems to understand what that means- it kind of seems dumb to say that, pretentious and twatty.. but i can’t think of any other way to describe the feeling…  i knew that it would end soon, i felt it tapering off… and as i completed the two most recent paintings. two.. oh. paintings that break my heart i love them so much. i felt her leave. no more.. everything left is forced, and i’m left to pick up the pieces… commissions in wait. oh fuck, what did i get myself into?
i go to bed each night thinking ‘please..when i wake up. let me open my e-mail account and see that i have sold every.single.one.of.my.originals.’ it hasn’t happened yet… maybe soon?  sometimes i feel like i just need that fresh start. sometimes i’m sick at looking at my style. at all of them there together. sometimes it’s too much. too the same.. my eyes cross and everything looks old and.. not wonderful. i feel like i shouldn’t say that because it’s not selling myself. i’m not good at selling myself anyway. i hear you’re supposed to have confidence, or at least fake that confidence to sell yourself… oy. i have a long way to go.
i was on such a high, feeling like i had it all figured out. the ‘a’ on this keyboard is pissing me off… i keep having to go back and really slam my pinkie into it to get it to show up.  maybe i should just keep typing without correcting the words that have an ‘a’ in them.
what am i doing.
so i found the journal. i didn’t find it actually, it was here all along, and it isn’t the perfect journal. but i decided that it would work- i would make it the perfect one. i’m going to post a blog about it and take pictures of it. note to self: do that. i figured that if i didn’t just DO IT i would keep talking about it and lusting after the perfect journal.. when really, i just need to get off my arse and get it started. why not. i’m going to stop being afraid of my imperfect handwriting in pretty pages. that’s..really hard to do.
the smell of claire’s sweaty sleeping head on my chest brings back the earthy scent of birth. i’m standing here.. it.. hurts. the laptop is on the bookshelf because it works– i can dance and stand and sway while talking to friends and putting claire to sleep… but i haven’t moved it, because i kind of like it.. but it hurts to stand here, and the stool hurts my ass. anyway. her scent. she’s breathing heavy against my chest as i stand here… i smell the sweat off the top of her unruly head of hair….. mmmmmmm breathing it deep.
one of my best friends is adopting and i’m so over the moon…. she might as well have told me she is pregnant, oh. my heart is cracked wide open for her and her family- i can’t wait to watch it unfold… it will be beautiful. her family is so beautiful…
i should share in this space my views on adoption/pregnancy… maybe it would mean something to someone.. maybe not. but i think it matters.. i’ll try to be coherent in my typing/writing…words. soon. maybe.

i feel like lately- everything i say is taken up wrong. like i can’t really express myself.
maybe that’s a sign that i need to stop talking, and start listening.
wow…

…the end.

i’m losing track of everything. scatterbrain
i want to get a new notebook/journal for my art… stuff. keep track of thoughts, ideas, commissions, inspirations… all in one place. i searched etsy all day- wasting time, looking for the perfect one. still have yet to find it. i feel like that’s all i’m missing. this magic notebook is going to pull it all together for me. it’s going to make my lists and cross them off. it’s going to keep me organized and not make me feel guilty. wishful thinking.

i’ve been painting and drawing so much recently, that i’m losing track of what i’ve done- and where i’ve stored the files…

rushing around- trying to organize this embassy stuff for the wee one. 7 more days until we make that journey. fingers crossed that it goes without problems.

what do i want? where do i belong? do i want to be successful? it seems awfully hard to stay sane and be successful… i feel lost with a few tasks to do- distracted- piles and piles of things to do. anxiety creeps up. how do people do it?
it must all come down to the perfect notebook and pen..