anytime i use the term "fixer" when describing someone i generally have the image of mr. wolf in pulp fiction. a tarantino staple of the film. a man who gets called in to fix other people's problem. in the case of pulp fiction, he is called in to fix vincent's brain splattering fuckup in the backseat of a car. slowly, calmly, mr. wolf appears and directs, orders, fixes the situation.
now, this may seem like a real hipster reference for me, and we all know i'm nowhere near being labeled as a hipster, but it's just the example that's on my mind. and just so i clear something up from the get go here, i'm not a catagorizing sort. i hate to be put in a box and doubt anyone else likes a label attached to them either. it's just that there's a pattern. a real pattern for me and my relationships with "fixers".
i was at a drinks/dinner function with folks from work the other night. a lot of fun. there's one colleague in particular who i find myself most comfortable and most engaged. it's a man, no real surprise there, and i appreciate and love having men as friends. always have and now is no different. we were talking on a deeper level than just "shop talk" and in the course of our conversation it hit me. i'm attracted to people who are fixers!
when i say attracted, don't misinterpret. i'm not attracted to him in a romantic sense. he's attractive, yes. he's bright, funny, kind, easy conversation,etc. but just as friends. with that disclaimer out of the way....he makes me think outside the box. really interesting guy. so here we are talking and comparing life experiences and the way we look at things in general. we have similar philosophies and ideals. we have similar approaches to problem solving and then it hit me. he's a fixer. justin is a fixer. i'm in essence deep down a fixer too.
in usual iris style, i started dissecting my past and present only to find that i've always been drawn to fixers. certainly this love i have with ownsastud is rooted in that quality to come in and overhaul. to start over. start fresh. fix the broken parts. this had me thinking: am i attracted to "fixers" because i am one myself? is it just that birds of a feather flock together or is it something deeper?
so this all started friday evening and here i was, sunday morning, still wrestling with this fixer realization. and when i say wrestling, i mean really losing sleep over the whole fucking lot. i wasn't feeling like myself. a pissy version of myself. so justin comes over, we go out to have breakfast and it happened again. that collision of conversation that we so often share and it hit me. right there in the middle of eggs at the suburban village inn on a sunday morning. i am desperate to be fixed. i want my flaws, my problems, my life, my shortcomings to be fixed by someone, anyone, anything. that's what i've always wanted. to be fixed. to have a fatal flaw corrected. to just be someone else. and i've been looking for it in other people for as long as i can remember. wow. pick me up off the fucking floor with this epiphany!
no wonder i haven't been able to give up using food to cope. it's my fixer. it's my fixative. it reinforces just how much i don't accept the core of who i am. with all the fat layers over it, nobody can see what i see. nobody can get to what i can get to. nope. nobody can get deep down into me to see the ugliness. where the hell did this fear of self come from? when did it start and how do i get it to stop? when will i stop trying to fix what is not broken?
those are all questions i can't answer right now. perhaps i never will answer them and frankly, i don't know that they need an answer. just acceptance. i'm not broken and i don't need anyone or anything to fix me and i know that. my logical self knows this as fact but emotionally, deep down, i still see myself as broken.
instead of seeking those that fix, i'm going to take some time to myself. i'm purging my brain, once again, of the negative feelings and the way i see myself. instead i'm trying on a different pair of glasses and looking hard, really really hard, for what other see in me. if you see me walking around squinting and complaining that everything looks blurry, you'll know that i'm still working hard at trying to find myself. just hope it doesn't turn into a search for waldo. i don't look good in stripes.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
what i miss about 100lbs.
there's a saying that goes something like this...that the past is always sweeter in your memory than it was in reality. i have to say, i think that's a general truth. past lovers who you have lost but didn't want to lose always seem more amazing in your memory than in the reality of that moment. if it's a happy "past" experience, we tend to dwell on the positive. same thing can be said for a negative memory. a trauma. a time we would like to forget yet it haunts us with it's reckless negativity. things are never what we imagine. good or bad. we don't have accurate raw memories. it just doesn't happen.
i've noticed lately that many of my stories of the past begin with "but you have to understand, i was skinny back then". or "back in the day" before telling a sexually explicit tale of indiscretion. as if being skinny makes it justifiable or more acceptable that i won a wet t-shirt contest that helped pay my rent in college. yes, true story. somehow though, i feel like i have to set up the story so people understand that i wasn't in a wet t-shirt contest while weighing 222lbs.
now, if you didn't pick up on that number then you need to look again. yes, i'm admitting my weight. here, on the world wide whack, for everyone to see. the enormity of my weight current day is around 222lbs. and i own it. i'm not afraid of the number. instead i'm still astounded by it. this number i have in my head and the number i see on the scale are so largely out of proportion to each other that it seems insurmountable sometimes. it's easier to think in past terms of a skinny version of myself. one that i remember but that i question in my minds' depiction. was it really all "that"?
i began wondering, what did it feel like to be 125? how did it feel to live in that skin compared to this one? granted, it's 100lbs. different but what did that feel like deep down as well as on the surface? what do i miss about that triple digit difference?
what i miss about 100lbs. less of iris!
- small bras!!! or at least considerably smaller. i had a breast reduction and at 125lbs.with the new rack complete, i was a nice round firm 34C. i now ring in at a 40G. i miss those more manageable tits. they were nice.
- a waist line. oh, how i miss that part of my figure. not that i was ever one to have a total six pack abtastic crunchorific mid section but fuck, i always had a small waist and a fairly flat stomach.
- seeing my toes. i could easily look down and see my toes. i miss being able to do that.
- trimming. yes, i said trimming. and no, i don't mean those toenails i could easily see. i'm talking about the female trimming. i could easily shave my legs and see exactly what needed to be trimmed in other regions. now it's just hit or miss. my girlscaping was meticulous. now it looks more like a drunken edward scissorhands got a hold of my nether region!
- energy. i had so much more energy. the stairs were no problem, early mornings were easy. things just moved more smoothly and easily with the additional energy...although i don't think being in my 20's hurt either.
-clothes. i looked forward to buying cute outfits. it was nice to wear something with 8 in it that didn't include a 1 or an X in front of it.
- positive frame of mind. exercise was a daily occurrence, not just something i would try a couple times a month and end up breathless and feeling desperate. nope. i could run 5 miles a day and i did and i liked it. so good for my head.
- thongs. this one might come as a surprise. some women loath butt floss but i always liked it. perhaps it just made me feel sexy but i loved the feel of not really having on underwear but still being comfortable that if i were pulled from a car with the jaws of life that my mother would be able to hold her head high at the country club.
what surprises me about this list, and i'm sure there are plenty of other things i miss but right now can't think of them, is nowhere in these statements is there any missing "happiness". being thin didn't make me happy. shit, i could have been my optimal weight, perfect bmi, looked like fuckin brooke burke and i still wouldn't have been happy in my life. my life wasn't happy. it was just thin.
the things i don't miss about being 125lbs. was the constant tracking of food, to the point of obsession. i don't miss the feeling of guilt every time i took an extra bite here or there. i don't miss the feeling of desperation to find happiness and true acceptance. i don't miss the feeling of an empty life.
so although the 100 extra pounds weighs heavily on me, both physically and emotionally, it is just 100lbs. it is not the end of the world. it is not the end of my life. it is not the end of happiness. it's the end of an old sorry story and the beginning of my new life. my new happiness. now is the time to start focusing on losing the weight. not all of it. maybe just 5lbs. to start. maybe 10 and if that feels good maybe 20. i don't have to run 5 miles a day. maybe just walk 5 minutes. maybe, just maybe, slow and steady will win this race.
whatever happens i'm happy saying that i am 222lbs., every damn ounce of it, and no matter what i weigh, life isn't waiting to begin. i've taken it by the balls and am riding the hell out of it. all 222lbs. of it. and fyi...i could still win the hell out of a wet t-shirt contest. the tits are still pretty fucking spectacular!
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
who's on first?
it's a shame my kids don't understand abbot and costello. they also don't understand when i come in the front door and yell "loooooocy, i'm hooooooome!" suppose it would help if i exposed them to such comic gems but i do feel some satisfaction knowing that they are well versed in "what's up doc" and "acme" gadgets.
back to "who's on first".... who IS on first? more so, who IS out there looking at this blog. it got me thinking, and questioning my ego and so non-egocentric self. who reads this dribble?
so if you're out there and you take the time to come by here and check out my dribble, let me know. post a comment and say "here". i'm on first! i realize it may take some of the anonymity away, as well as the mystery, but honestly it's driving me batty thinking of who could possibly be reading this shit. suppose that's the price i pay for putting out for anyone to see but hey, we all know i like to live on the edge. won't you join me :)
home
I’m addicted to a little something called Pinterest. A website committed to my addiction to surfing and turfing the interwebs for things that I covet. You know. Decorating ideas, shoe addictions, words of wisdom, personal style. Time and time again there are “sayings” about home…it’s the heart, it’s where your mom is, it’s where love resides, it’s where we grow, etc. etc. etc.
Lately that idea of “home” has been rooting around in my brain and in my heart. I have a dear friend who is torn because she doesn’t have a house to call her own, with walls to paint and rooms to decorate. She struggles with the idea of being temporary and I feel for her. I really do understand, after living in an apartment for a year, just how hard it can be to raise a family, put down roots, when you feel you have no place to call your own. A home is an important part of who we are as families but also as individuals. We need to feel that we have a “home”, a safe place where we can kick off our shoes and just *be.
As I struggle and overcome the need to make my house a home, I find that it has nothing to do with how shiny my floors get. It has nothing to do with how I manicure my lawn. Granted, I doubt that I would feel as secure if my situation were still temporary in relation to my housing. I’m fortunate and grateful beyond recognition for this piece of homestead with my name on it. But what does define a home? Is it where you live, is it who you live with or is it about *how you live your life?
I’ve recently been doing a lot of reconnecting with people that generate a great deal of positive energy. I know, I know. Bust out the birks and the incense but I believe fully in the power of energy. Surrounding myself with negative people and places has done nothing good for me. Yet when I choose to live in a positive frame of mind, with other like minded folks, my life becomes full of good things. These friends of mine, both old and new, have an amazing way of looking at life. We all struggle to define who we are while staying open to the possibilities that wait for us. Some of them are deeply spiritual, there are a few Jesus freaks in the bunch, a few Buddhist, some folks that just feel the energy and move with it. But the running vein that connects us is a feeling of acceptance…and acceptance of each other while we try to accept ourselves. We are all at difference points in the process. Some of us just beginning which is where I feel I fit.
But here’s the amazing thing. When I surround myself with these folks, with these soul sisters and brothers of mine, with this new found yet old family, they accept me for me and even more importantly, I begin to accept myself. It’s cleansing, it’s powerful, it’s liberating and fulfilling. I feel like I’m home. I’m home with my tribe. I’m home without having walls and a roof. I’m out there, in the open air of the evening and I’m home.
I’m especially reminded of my real home today when I feel the pressure to be another PTA mom. When I feel looked down upon because I chose to leave a marriage that was a sham in what can only be describe as a cookie cutter community of married parents. When I feel like I don’t fit because I’m just not like the other girls. And yet I’ve never felt more accepted and loved in all my life. I’m not like the other girls…it’s true. And I love it and I’m thankful that other people do too.
This is my home. Right where I am.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
the love nook
as i was laying in bed with justin this morning, i felt an overwhelming sense of peace. i found my peace and my piece of mind in the love nook. you know, the nook?
no. you don't know about it? neither did a good friend i talked to earlier today. she kinda sorta just shrugged and went "what the hell are you talking about now". this isn't necessarily that unusual of a response from said friend (swear i could smack her if i didn't love her so damn much) but still, could i be the only one who acknowledges the love nook?
so here's my definition of the love nook. it's that cozy corner that a lover provides. usually found when you wake up in the morning to roll over and snug for a while. sometimes you can even find it after you've had a passionate night together. some people call it cuddling but i hate to use that term. i only use cuddling with the kids. otherwise it's the post-coitus, could i love you anymore if i tried, i made noises like some wild coyote on animal planet, body touching moment. you know. that place on a man's chest and shoulder, right there between the two when you rest your hand across them, they run their fingers through your hair and voila...a love nook is formed.
what i find intriguing about this little slice of heaven is the feeling of safety. i think some of that stems from hearing another persons heartbeat. it's like joy is just saturating every part of you. and that's when it hits you. you fit. you just fit perfectly in that little nook. if it's the right love nook, that's how it feels.
this morning i was reminded that his is the only nook i ever want to feel.
no. you don't know about it? neither did a good friend i talked to earlier today. she kinda sorta just shrugged and went "what the hell are you talking about now". this isn't necessarily that unusual of a response from said friend (swear i could smack her if i didn't love her so damn much) but still, could i be the only one who acknowledges the love nook?
so here's my definition of the love nook. it's that cozy corner that a lover provides. usually found when you wake up in the morning to roll over and snug for a while. sometimes you can even find it after you've had a passionate night together. some people call it cuddling but i hate to use that term. i only use cuddling with the kids. otherwise it's the post-coitus, could i love you anymore if i tried, i made noises like some wild coyote on animal planet, body touching moment. you know. that place on a man's chest and shoulder, right there between the two when you rest your hand across them, they run their fingers through your hair and voila...a love nook is formed.
what i find intriguing about this little slice of heaven is the feeling of safety. i think some of that stems from hearing another persons heartbeat. it's like joy is just saturating every part of you. and that's when it hits you. you fit. you just fit perfectly in that little nook. if it's the right love nook, that's how it feels.
this morning i was reminded that his is the only nook i ever want to feel.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
in the eye of the beholder
beauty is in the eye of the beholder. i've always liked that saying. when i was in my prepubescent funky phase, the idea of being beautiful to just one person gave me hope. then again my hormones probably resembled courtney love after an 8ball so everything to me was jacked up.
as an adult though, it holds a different connotation for me. i've never thought of myself as someone who is beautiful in the traditional sense. take for instance the archetype of beauty. some say there is a scientific formula for such beauty. a mask of linear proportion that defines true physical beauty. the standard is the marquardt mask. superimposed upon a photograph you can see the symmetry and lines that supposedly define a beautiful face. i've downloaded it before, looked at it, but refuse to layer it as a mask over my photograph. i just won't do it because frankly, i don't believe in it.
i've been thinking about the perceptions of beauty lately because there is a strange phenomena going on in my life....men are finding me attractive. huh? whut? where did this attention come from all of a sudden? it's a little disturbing to me because what i see in the mirror is not what i "want" to see from myself. i'm not saying that i don't find anything about myself attractive. i do. i own some traditional ideas of beauty. plump lips, full round body, penetrating eyes, milky white complexion, yeah. i have some of those. but in general, i don't fit the mold of a woman who gets lots of attention. i'm 100lbs. overweight...and no, folks, that is not an exaggeration. i am truly 100lbs. overweight and it's not healthy. my skin breaks out on a frequent basis for no known reason. fucking puberty at 39 can kiss my ass. i have stretch marks, i have a dimpled ass, my thighs rub together when i walk, my hair isn't exactly shiny, i'm divorced, a mom, the list of things that aren't traditionally thought of as sexy or beautiful by most men.
so why all of a sudden do i have men knocking on the door? now i am in crazy mad love with switch and i think it's pretty safe to say that he feels the same way about me. so it's not like i'm going out and looking for suitors. perhaps i flirt more than i have in the past though. being loved and loving someone gives you an incredible amount of confidence in the real world. love bubbles have a way of doing that to a girl. swoon.
there are two men in particular, one of whom i work with and the other is an ex who makes gestures and innuendo despite the fact that he's married. the ex is tough to handle since he's such a close friend and yet he is going through some major life changes. i think his attraction to me is one of nostalgia. wanting to go back in time and be young and free again. he knows it, i know it, i have to reel him back in every now and then. he hasn't been inappropriate in his actions but instead suggestive flirting. i'm not threatened but still find it odd that he finds me sexually interesting after all these years. those boys and their dicks. i swear. the man at work is someone i've just gotten to know and i have to say, he's as sweet as they get. he's attractive, he's smart and funny, he's an enormous flirt and he's made a few advances that i've put the kybash on quickly. he knows i have a man in my life and am not looking for anyone and honestly, the flirting is harmless. but i still think it's kinda sorta neat that he picked me. personally i think he's just a free spirit, artistic soul who likes to play around. it's harmless but flattering.
so what is beauty? in my eyes it doesn't have an enormous amount to do with how someone looks. there needs to be a certain level of attraction for there to be a sexual interest but it's never been the driving factor in my relationships. and fyi...switch might just look like a skinny guy but the man is pure muscle, no body fat and he's got a rockin ass body! i appreciate it so very much. please and thank you but it is not what i find most attractive about him. it's who he is as a human being. an outstanding, humble, brilliant, hard working, good man.
my definition of beauty is fairly simple. you have to be who you are on the inside for it to show on the outside. when i let go of my preconceived notions of myself, when i forget that i have a round belly and stretch marks and cellulite to boot, when i put those insecurities away and just embrace who i am, fat rolls and all, i feel liberated and it shows. this resurgence of attention is not going unnoticed. it's flattering, it's a boost to the old broad self esteem. it's a reminder that i'm beautiful by just being myself. that seems to be the formula for me.
fuck that mask and give me a heaping helping of good old fashioned heart and soul instead. that's where my beauty lies. glad to know someone else sees it too.
6th grade angst....with add-a-beads to boot!
as an adult though, it holds a different connotation for me. i've never thought of myself as someone who is beautiful in the traditional sense. take for instance the archetype of beauty. some say there is a scientific formula for such beauty. a mask of linear proportion that defines true physical beauty. the standard is the marquardt mask. superimposed upon a photograph you can see the symmetry and lines that supposedly define a beautiful face. i've downloaded it before, looked at it, but refuse to layer it as a mask over my photograph. i just won't do it because frankly, i don't believe in it.
so why all of a sudden do i have men knocking on the door? now i am in crazy mad love with switch and i think it's pretty safe to say that he feels the same way about me. so it's not like i'm going out and looking for suitors. perhaps i flirt more than i have in the past though. being loved and loving someone gives you an incredible amount of confidence in the real world. love bubbles have a way of doing that to a girl. swoon.
there are two men in particular, one of whom i work with and the other is an ex who makes gestures and innuendo despite the fact that he's married. the ex is tough to handle since he's such a close friend and yet he is going through some major life changes. i think his attraction to me is one of nostalgia. wanting to go back in time and be young and free again. he knows it, i know it, i have to reel him back in every now and then. he hasn't been inappropriate in his actions but instead suggestive flirting. i'm not threatened but still find it odd that he finds me sexually interesting after all these years. those boys and their dicks. i swear. the man at work is someone i've just gotten to know and i have to say, he's as sweet as they get. he's attractive, he's smart and funny, he's an enormous flirt and he's made a few advances that i've put the kybash on quickly. he knows i have a man in my life and am not looking for anyone and honestly, the flirting is harmless. but i still think it's kinda sorta neat that he picked me. personally i think he's just a free spirit, artistic soul who likes to play around. it's harmless but flattering.
so what is beauty? in my eyes it doesn't have an enormous amount to do with how someone looks. there needs to be a certain level of attraction for there to be a sexual interest but it's never been the driving factor in my relationships. and fyi...switch might just look like a skinny guy but the man is pure muscle, no body fat and he's got a rockin ass body! i appreciate it so very much. please and thank you but it is not what i find most attractive about him. it's who he is as a human being. an outstanding, humble, brilliant, hard working, good man.
my definition of beauty is fairly simple. you have to be who you are on the inside for it to show on the outside. when i let go of my preconceived notions of myself, when i forget that i have a round belly and stretch marks and cellulite to boot, when i put those insecurities away and just embrace who i am, fat rolls and all, i feel liberated and it shows. this resurgence of attention is not going unnoticed. it's flattering, it's a boost to the old broad self esteem. it's a reminder that i'm beautiful by just being myself. that seems to be the formula for me.
fuck that mask and give me a heaping helping of good old fashioned heart and soul instead. that's where my beauty lies. glad to know someone else sees it too.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Puzzle Pieces
I hate tough questions. No, not the “What’s the capital of Nebraska?” questions…and please, refrain from showing off if you know the answer. I could make a guess and it might be right but frankly, this Florida girl probably doesn’t remember that chapter of geography class.
I’m talking about the questions we took for granted as children. Namely the “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Simple. Easy. Clear. It was one that we all likely answered time and time again and I would venture to guess that I wasn’t the only one who had a different answer nearly every time it was asked. I remember wanting to be an artist, a prima ballerina, an auto mechanic, a musician, a geologist and an architect. Ambitious, scattered, not at all cohesive as far as a vision goes but it came from my gut. It was the truth. They were all simple, honest, truthful answers to a simple, straightforward question about what I wanted to “do” in my life.
Where along the way did it go from being an easy question to one without an answer? Does it have an answer? What if the answer isn’t what you “think” it should be? As an adult it takes on a new meaning. The reason this discussion came up…and by discussion I mean the one I have with myself on a daily basis…was because I posed a question. The question being for advice in my pursuit of a career in graphic design, specifically what do I need to accomplish in my portfolio to gain attention.
I reached out to three people, all whom I trust and respect. One is my aunt who is a very successful artist and art director. The next is a dear friend who is a designer who specializes in web design and works for a local agency. The final is an old/new friend that I will simply call “chedddar”. Old in that I know him from when I was in middle and high school. New because, thanks to social media, we have reconnected. He’s a culmination of artist, business man, mogul, entrepreneur, you name it, he’s got it.
I received feedback from two of the three people and it was incredibly helpful. But “cheddar” is the only one who asked me a question before giving advice. What is it exactly that I want to do? Where do I see myself going in this “industry” of design and production? Um, Yeah, Um, Wow. This should be an easy thing to answer. I want to design and create. That’s a given. But how will I make it work? Where do I fit into the industry that I have wanted for so long? After all, I did go to college for just that…graphic design.
For weeks now I have been pondering, wondering how I would answer these questions. Who is it that I see myself being over the next few years? What does it look like and where does it take me? I’ve thought long and hard, reaching out to friends and family and looking at their vision of themselves. Looking at myself and where I am right now. What tools do I have and how can I make them work for me. What is the bottom line and how do I define it in a clear logical way…and by logical I mean in any way other than the one I’ve just written here. Geesh, somebody shut me the hell up already.
Finally I’ve come to the realization that I don’t know exactly what I want or who I see myself being in the long run, or even tomorrow for that matter. What I am certain of is that I have something to give creatively. It’s always been a struggle for me to define that creativity, generally living in the day to day creative process in some form or medium but never going in one direction. Scattered is an understatement when I think of ways to describe myself.
I think it’s time to pick up these scattered pieces and put them in the puzzle where they belong. I would normally start with the straight edges and corners first to frame things out but I don’t have any of those pieces. Guess I just have to jump right in the middle then!
I’m talking about the questions we took for granted as children. Namely the “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Simple. Easy. Clear. It was one that we all likely answered time and time again and I would venture to guess that I wasn’t the only one who had a different answer nearly every time it was asked. I remember wanting to be an artist, a prima ballerina, an auto mechanic, a musician, a geologist and an architect. Ambitious, scattered, not at all cohesive as far as a vision goes but it came from my gut. It was the truth. They were all simple, honest, truthful answers to a simple, straightforward question about what I wanted to “do” in my life.
Where along the way did it go from being an easy question to one without an answer? Does it have an answer? What if the answer isn’t what you “think” it should be? As an adult it takes on a new meaning. The reason this discussion came up…and by discussion I mean the one I have with myself on a daily basis…was because I posed a question. The question being for advice in my pursuit of a career in graphic design, specifically what do I need to accomplish in my portfolio to gain attention.
I reached out to three people, all whom I trust and respect. One is my aunt who is a very successful artist and art director. The next is a dear friend who is a designer who specializes in web design and works for a local agency. The final is an old/new friend that I will simply call “chedddar”. Old in that I know him from when I was in middle and high school. New because, thanks to social media, we have reconnected. He’s a culmination of artist, business man, mogul, entrepreneur, you name it, he’s got it.
I received feedback from two of the three people and it was incredibly helpful. But “cheddar” is the only one who asked me a question before giving advice. What is it exactly that I want to do? Where do I see myself going in this “industry” of design and production? Um, Yeah, Um, Wow. This should be an easy thing to answer. I want to design and create. That’s a given. But how will I make it work? Where do I fit into the industry that I have wanted for so long? After all, I did go to college for just that…graphic design.
For weeks now I have been pondering, wondering how I would answer these questions. Who is it that I see myself being over the next few years? What does it look like and where does it take me? I’ve thought long and hard, reaching out to friends and family and looking at their vision of themselves. Looking at myself and where I am right now. What tools do I have and how can I make them work for me. What is the bottom line and how do I define it in a clear logical way…and by logical I mean in any way other than the one I’ve just written here. Geesh, somebody shut me the hell up already.
Finally I’ve come to the realization that I don’t know exactly what I want or who I see myself being in the long run, or even tomorrow for that matter. What I am certain of is that I have something to give creatively. It’s always been a struggle for me to define that creativity, generally living in the day to day creative process in some form or medium but never going in one direction. Scattered is an understatement when I think of ways to describe myself.
I think it’s time to pick up these scattered pieces and put them in the puzzle where they belong. I would normally start with the straight edges and corners first to frame things out but I don’t have any of those pieces. Guess I just have to jump right in the middle then!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)