Not literally, thank god. 'Cause that would suck, royally. But there's been this voice in my head, for a very long time. Back during my Indiana years, my heaven-sent talk therapist helped me to identify it as my "fear voice." I am pretty sure that everyone has a fear voice. And it is not only part of their life, it is part of them.
My fear voice is one of the many things that compose my identity. It's the voice that is always there, at the back of my mind, positively (or, perhaps I should say, negatively) screaming whenever I undertake...well, anything. It's the voice that screams "what's the point? You'll never be good enough/creative enough/attractive enough/driven enough/patient enough." Whenever I want to do something, that voice is there, nay-saying me. It was there tonight, when I was trying to play around with some of my art supplies.
"What's the point? You can't even coordinate these colored papers and cardstocks! Forget layering them in an attractive and original way!"
"What's the point? You can't even successfully lift a design from someone else, let alone come up with an original sketch all your own!"
"What's the point? You can't even master techniques with tutorials, let alone come up with your own variations on the same! Let alone think up an entirely new technique with different mediums!"
"What's the point? You can't even teach yourself or learn the technical skills of drawing, of shading, or color blending! Forget trying to render an original work!"
Hello, world. Welcome to my head, where it's a veritable feast of ugliness day after day. Is it merely a subconscious, self-inflicted cop-out, to keep myself from trying or doing anything new?
My sisters and I have this quirk--we have this thing, where we don't like to try or do anything new without being GREAT at it immediately. We don't want to make the mistakes, smudge the paper, muddle the paints, miss the pitch. We just want to be perfect at it, without even trying. Practice makes perfect, but we'll be damned if we do that. Only, it does not work like that. (Damn the logic, anyway). But...what if you practice and still don't get perfect? Or what if you are perfect at the technique but still don't have the originality to do your own thing with it
But...maybe it should not matter if it is any good, either immediately or after three years of trying. Maybe it should just matter that I did it at all. That I tried. That I kept on keepin' on. But is that enough to shut that voice up?
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Auld Lang Syne, My Ass
So, two days into the new year, and what do you think I've been doing? Conducting the approximately 8 years of research on my novel? Washing the 20 articles of hand-wash only clothing (dear god, why do I have such high-maintenance taste in clothing? It's KOHLS, for chrissakes)? Throwing myself with massive dedication into Operation Get Skinnier than Jim? At the very least, reading something in the condescendingly self-help genre?
Oh-ho. One can only wish.
The fact of it is, my ass is fused to my mattress. And my recently-dyed red mop of hair is leaking and ruining my Pottery Barn Euro Sham. (Turns out I don't care much for my duvet set, so I don't complain too much.) I'm into, like, Day 15 of Epic Sinus Infection of 2011, and I am perilously close to losing the will to live. So forget trying to keep any of my resolutions. Instead, I've been almost a complete layabout, watching Eat Pray Love and reading the Julie/Julia Project and Pioneer Woman blogs.
Shit. 2011 is going to be the Year of Vicarious Living, darn it.
All is not completely lost. I did cuddle my cat Austen a fair amount, stowed away a lot of the Christmas stuff, vacuumed, swept, did dishes, and folded laundry. I even bathed. That's a LOT to ask of a sick girl! And I'm not done, either. I shall do more laundry, and paint my nails, and maybe file some papers. And then I am going to fix a vodka tonic and the last of the gumbo and get ambitious and fuse my ass to the couch.
Whatever 2011 will be, I fear that 2011 is not be the Year of Ambitious Living.
Oh-ho. One can only wish.
The fact of it is, my ass is fused to my mattress. And my recently-dyed red mop of hair is leaking and ruining my Pottery Barn Euro Sham. (Turns out I don't care much for my duvet set, so I don't complain too much.) I'm into, like, Day 15 of Epic Sinus Infection of 2011, and I am perilously close to losing the will to live. So forget trying to keep any of my resolutions. Instead, I've been almost a complete layabout, watching Eat Pray Love and reading the Julie/Julia Project and Pioneer Woman blogs.
Shit. 2011 is going to be the Year of Vicarious Living, darn it.
All is not completely lost. I did cuddle my cat Austen a fair amount, stowed away a lot of the Christmas stuff, vacuumed, swept, did dishes, and folded laundry. I even bathed. That's a LOT to ask of a sick girl! And I'm not done, either. I shall do more laundry, and paint my nails, and maybe file some papers. And then I am going to fix a vodka tonic and the last of the gumbo and get ambitious and fuse my ass to the couch.
Whatever 2011 will be, I fear that 2011 is not be the Year of Ambitious Living.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
All is Quiet on New Year's Day
They say to be careful of what you're doing at New Year's, because you'll do it all year...
If that's the case, I will be spending the entire year laying on the couch, sick with a sinus infection...but I will also be spending it pleasantly buzzed, chatting it up with my new friend Missi (nickname: Missile) while Himself watches movies blasting on the surround sound.
There are worse ways to bring in the New Year, indeed.
After staying up far too late, talking far too long, and drinking far too much champagne and wine (but damn, that Manina Cabernet, Vintage 2009--can 2009 be vintage, or am I being pretentious?--was good!), I tumbled into bed and passed out. This morning I woke up to a legendarily gorgeous desert morning and set to work; I was expecting friends over for a Vision Board Party, and there was precious little time to prepare the house...
...Yes, that's right, a vision board party, you read that right. It's a combination of an idea ganked from Rhonda Byrne's The Secret, and my friend, Sailor-Lovin' Shauna. She had a vision board party once, the idea stuck with me, and now lo and behold, I now actually have enough friends that were game for it.
So we laughed, we drank more champagne, we cut and paste and encouraged each other and eventually, the first day of the new year passed and four of us ended up having poster
boards with representations of our desires and goals for the year. And the entire time, as I was snorting and snotting and sniffing and blowing my nose, I was also secretly reveling in this lovely way to spend New Year's Day.
My boss made a remark to me last week, something along the lines of, "You're putting down roots here, like it or not." And she's right. As evidenced by the fact that I finally got one of my sisters out here to visit me, as evidenced by the fact that I have all of these people in my life, as evidenced by the fact that I consider my colleagues my family, as evidenced by the fact that I am going into my third year living in the same city (that has not happened since I was in my early 20s), I am indeed settling down. I think that's what 2011 is going to be for me, the year of Roots. They are going to grow deeper.
And I am going to grow happier.
If that's the case, I will be spending the entire year laying on the couch, sick with a sinus infection...but I will also be spending it pleasantly buzzed, chatting it up with my new friend Missi (nickname: Missile) while Himself watches movies blasting on the surround sound.
There are worse ways to bring in the New Year, indeed.
After staying up far too late, talking far too long, and drinking far too much champagne and wine (but damn, that Manina Cabernet, Vintage 2009--can 2009 be vintage, or am I being pretentious?--was good!), I tumbled into bed and passed out. This morning I woke up to a legendarily gorgeous desert morning and set to work; I was expecting friends over for a Vision Board Party, and there was precious little time to prepare the house...
...Yes, that's right, a vision board party, you read that right. It's a combination of an idea ganked from Rhonda Byrne's The Secret, and my friend, Sailor-Lovin' Shauna. She had a vision board party once, the idea stuck with me, and now lo and behold, I now actually have enough friends that were game for it.
So we laughed, we drank more champagne, we cut and paste and encouraged each other and eventually, the first day of the new year passed and four of us ended up having poster
boards with representations of our desires and goals for the year. And the entire time, as I was snorting and snotting and sniffing and blowing my nose, I was also secretly reveling in this lovely way to spend New Year's Day.
My boss made a remark to me last week, something along the lines of, "You're putting down roots here, like it or not." And she's right. As evidenced by the fact that I finally got one of my sisters out here to visit me, as evidenced by the fact that I have all of these people in my life, as evidenced by the fact that I consider my colleagues my family, as evidenced by the fact that I am going into my third year living in the same city (that has not happened since I was in my early 20s), I am indeed settling down. I think that's what 2011 is going to be for me, the year of Roots. They are going to grow deeper.
And I am going to grow happier.
Friday, December 31, 2010
New year and new day
You'd think I would learn.
After all of the new planners, new purses, new notebooks, new organizers, new lists, new plans, new projects, new "leaves", you think I would learn, a leopard doesn't change its spots...
Does it?
A very wise friend of mine once said, "We reinvent ourselves every day." I like the optimism in that; I like the possibilities that are inherent in that statement. To that end, one should embrace not "New Years resolutions" but "New Day Resolutions."
But still, New Year's IS all about the hope, the changes, the possibilities. So while I'm not going to say "I resolve to do these things", I am going to say "This is what I'd like to make happen in the year ahead." And then maybe, day by day, I will reinvent myself.
(Although, I have to say, I do rather like myself and my life. I'd like to think I don't suck too much.)
And so, let's crack open a bottle of champagne and contemplate our navels, our lives, our new days, our new years!
______________________________________________________________
Health and Beauty:
Well, I'm about to be on to my second glass of champagne e. And I lift it up to all of us--may 2011 be the year of re-invention!
After all of the new planners, new purses, new notebooks, new organizers, new lists, new plans, new projects, new "leaves", you think I would learn, a leopard doesn't change its spots...
Does it?
A very wise friend of mine once said, "We reinvent ourselves every day." I like the optimism in that; I like the possibilities that are inherent in that statement. To that end, one should embrace not "New Years resolutions" but "New Day Resolutions."
But still, New Year's IS all about the hope, the changes, the possibilities. So while I'm not going to say "I resolve to do these things", I am going to say "This is what I'd like to make happen in the year ahead." And then maybe, day by day, I will reinvent myself.
(Although, I have to say, I do rather like myself and my life. I'd like to think I don't suck too much.)
And so, let's crack open a bottle of champagne and contemplate our navels, our lives, our new days, our new years!
______________________________________________________________
Health and Beauty:
- "Get skinnier than Jim" (in other words, my eldest sister and I have to see our biological father this summer. The man is a scrawny--and boringly healthy-- little...fellow...and both of us weigh more than he does. He already views himself as superior; we don't wish to give him any more ammo.)
- Establish a solid, consistent beauty routine.
- Vitamins, medications, and water. 'Nuff said.
- Look into getting serious work done on my sinuses. It might be time for surgery.
- Do the Artist's Way, goddammit
- Blog at least three times a week
- Finish "Home Front"
- Write a piece on Indiana
- Finish the Indiana and wedding scrapbooks
- Take an acrylics class
- Stick to the budget
- Pay off that (thankfully wee) bit of credit card debt
- Have enough money set aside to pay off the car in March 2o12
- Do the "envelope system" for indulgent purchases
- Say less, more
- Cultivate friendship with Missi
- Call grandparents at least twice a week
- Solidify Indiana relationships
- Be mindful of my position as a wife to Himself (basically, he's becoming much more of a public figure, which means I am along for the ride. And it's a very small town.)
- Be more supportive and patient with Himself
- Again, say less, more
- Keep the desk nice and tidy
- Cultivate more patience and tact
- Seize moments of leadership as they arise
Well, I'm about to be on to my second glass of champagne e. And I lift it up to all of us--may 2011 be the year of re-invention!
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Thankful Thursdays, Part 2
There are some moments that you just want to be seared onto your brain, to be stowed away, safely, in your memory, untouched by time or forgetting. Tonight offered me one of those moments.
Through my entire worklife, I have been blessed with a number of jobs that I enjoyed, that provided me with a swarm of caring colleagues, tolerant supervisors, and helpful mentors. Time and time again, I've landed on my feet and gone to work happy, looking forward to the day. My current job has followed the same pattern. I jokingly call one of my bosses "mom" from time to time, the guy that sits across from my cubicle is my "little brother" (he's a week younger than me), and my team of reference librarians (all of whom are at least 30 years older than me) I view as a host of amused, kind aunts and uncles. They've nurtured me, taught me, encouraged me, held me in check, I daresay from time to time protected me. We're a team.
Once a month, we have a meeting at work, and go out for dinner afterward. Tonight, we went to a local Mexican restaurant, where we knocked back some margaritas, swapped gossip about libraries in the region, ate, and listened to a rather loud mariachi band. The music and singing were a little annoying at first (especially when you're trying to hear your former boss tell your current boss who just got a major position elsewhere in the county), but once the margaritas cast their spell, the music brought in its own magic.
At one point, the band moved over to us and began leading a bawdy song with a chorus that
went :
Guacamole!
Guacamole!
We were making guac-a-mole all night long!
I looked around at my "mom" and my aunties, all of them smiling, singing, warm in the low light of the restaurant, their faces so beloved and familiar to me, and I thought my heart would break of happiness. The moment was priceless, beautiful--fleeting.
But it's imprinted here, and in my brain, and it will be one that I shall not let go.
Through my entire worklife, I have been blessed with a number of jobs that I enjoyed, that provided me with a swarm of caring colleagues, tolerant supervisors, and helpful mentors. Time and time again, I've landed on my feet and gone to work happy, looking forward to the day. My current job has followed the same pattern. I jokingly call one of my bosses "mom" from time to time, the guy that sits across from my cubicle is my "little brother" (he's a week younger than me), and my team of reference librarians (all of whom are at least 30 years older than me) I view as a host of amused, kind aunts and uncles. They've nurtured me, taught me, encouraged me, held me in check, I daresay from time to time protected me. We're a team.
Once a month, we have a meeting at work, and go out for dinner afterward. Tonight, we went to a local Mexican restaurant, where we knocked back some margaritas, swapped gossip about libraries in the region, ate, and listened to a rather loud mariachi band. The music and singing were a little annoying at first (especially when you're trying to hear your former boss tell your current boss who just got a major position elsewhere in the county), but once the margaritas cast their spell, the music brought in its own magic.
At one point, the band moved over to us and began leading a bawdy song with a chorus that
went :
Guacamole!
Guacamole!
We were making guac-a-mole all night long!
I looked around at my "mom" and my aunties, all of them smiling, singing, warm in the low light of the restaurant, their faces so beloved and familiar to me, and I thought my heart would break of happiness. The moment was priceless, beautiful--fleeting.
But it's imprinted here, and in my brain, and it will be one that I shall not let go.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Thankful Thursdays
This Thursday, I am tickled pink by:
1. Working on Saturdays, so that I can have the following Friday off...which means that Thursday is my end of the week. Cheers for long weekends!
2. A husband who doesn't mind my sinus-induced, horrifically nasty morning breath. Seriously, folks, it's foul. I taste it. My cat Maggie waddles up to me and tries to stick her head in my mouth. And Himself simply chuckles and compares it to either a dead starfish or the Salton Sea. (Go to the Salton Sea and you'll know what I mean.)
3. Friends. That's right, you read it correctly. You know, that 10-season show that defined my generation, symbolized the hope and prosperity of the 1990s, and brought us lots of cheesy pop culture goodness. I LOVE that show. Four years ago, back when I first moved to California, I was a very green librarian and constantly questioning the wisdom of moving and feeling frustrated by my job and terribly homesick. I'd go to my boyfriend the Cyborg's house, and obtuse though he was about my feelings and needs (he was called The Cyborg for a reason) he knew enough to plunk me down in front of the television, pour me a glass of wine, pop in Friends, and two hours later I'd be as right as rain. These days, I just watch it in front of the exercise bike as I am huffing and puffing away, but it still helps get the job done!
1. Working on Saturdays, so that I can have the following Friday off...which means that Thursday is my end of the week. Cheers for long weekends!
2. A husband who doesn't mind my sinus-induced, horrifically nasty morning breath. Seriously, folks, it's foul. I taste it. My cat Maggie waddles up to me and tries to stick her head in my mouth. And Himself simply chuckles and compares it to either a dead starfish or the Salton Sea. (Go to the Salton Sea and you'll know what I mean.)
3. Friends. That's right, you read it correctly. You know, that 10-season show that defined my generation, symbolized the hope and prosperity of the 1990s, and brought us lots of cheesy pop culture goodness. I LOVE that show. Four years ago, back when I first moved to California, I was a very green librarian and constantly questioning the wisdom of moving and feeling frustrated by my job and terribly homesick. I'd go to my boyfriend the Cyborg's house, and obtuse though he was about my feelings and needs (he was called The Cyborg for a reason) he knew enough to plunk me down in front of the television, pour me a glass of wine, pop in Friends, and two hours later I'd be as right as rain. These days, I just watch it in front of the exercise bike as I am huffing and puffing away, but it still helps get the job done!
4. Not giving a toss that most people find my love for Friends to be incredibly bourgeois.
5. Finally...Adirondack Alcohol inks. I haven't figured out what else to do with them, but I tell you what, couple 'em up with Martha Stewart glitter and you can craft some really freaking lovely ornaments!
5. Finally...Adirondack Alcohol inks. I haven't figured out what else to do with them, but I tell you what, couple 'em up with Martha Stewart glitter and you can craft some really freaking lovely ornaments!
The Words that Go Unsaid
Well, I feel like a tool. I recently just fell for the oldest blogging trick in the book.
I still read blogs avidly--the blogs of people I know, and homemaking and crafting and scrapbooking blogs, mostly. And I read all about these ladies' lives, and I think "My god, how lucky they are! How happy they are! Look at their beautifully cooked meals/cute kids/orderly homes/lovely craft projects!"
You see where this is going. Hello, inferiority complex!
I think it gets worse when it's someone I know. For example, a friend of mine from the Indiana days is a newlywed, and an avid (and skilled) cook/blogger/crafter. She writes beautiful and uplifting things about her life, right down to her faith, and I simultaneously admire and envy her. AND she lives back East, where there are four seasons.
Purely by accident, I imed her today on google chat. And we got to talking and catching up--and that's when I realized I had fallen for it. I remarked on her blog, and how charmed her life seemed, and her response?
"Well I only write things that are happy."
D'oh! Of course! It's a blog! My sister, who has been blogging since 2001, has a cardinal rule: "Only post the good stuff." Funny that, I thought this was a trait unique to my sister. Apparently not! And if my sister and my friend only blog the good stuff, well, I bet the same is true for a lot of other ladies out there.
I suppose I could do that (I suppose I will do that). The ugly fact about it is, I have a tendency to focus on my blue devils and ignore the awesome stuff in my life--so nothing ever gets posted these days. I'm going to try to get back into the groove with blogging, even if it's only to talk about the awesome stuff in my life and focus on that and make all you readers (at this point, just my afore-mentioned friend, sister, and the omnipresent Indiana stalker) embrace your inner inferiority complex!
Ha. Maybe not so much. At least not intentionally.
But talking with my friend was immensely reassuring--she copped to the 9.5 million fights a week she and her husband have (they are still happy, incredibly so), and unintentionally reminded me that that is fairly normal. And that's the lesson of the day...
There's a lot that people don't tell you about being married.
And there's a lot that I still don't know about being married.
But I'm learning.
Not sure that that's what I'll be posting, but expect some good content in the near future!
I still read blogs avidly--the blogs of people I know, and homemaking and crafting and scrapbooking blogs, mostly. And I read all about these ladies' lives, and I think "My god, how lucky they are! How happy they are! Look at their beautifully cooked meals/cute kids/orderly homes/lovely craft projects!"
You see where this is going. Hello, inferiority complex!
I think it gets worse when it's someone I know. For example, a friend of mine from the Indiana days is a newlywed, and an avid (and skilled) cook/blogger/crafter. She writes beautiful and uplifting things about her life, right down to her faith, and I simultaneously admire and envy her. AND she lives back East, where there are four seasons.
Purely by accident, I imed her today on google chat. And we got to talking and catching up--and that's when I realized I had fallen for it. I remarked on her blog, and how charmed her life seemed, and her response?
"Well I only write things that are happy."
D'oh! Of course! It's a blog! My sister, who has been blogging since 2001, has a cardinal rule: "Only post the good stuff." Funny that, I thought this was a trait unique to my sister. Apparently not! And if my sister and my friend only blog the good stuff, well, I bet the same is true for a lot of other ladies out there.
I suppose I could do that (I suppose I will do that). The ugly fact about it is, I have a tendency to focus on my blue devils and ignore the awesome stuff in my life--so nothing ever gets posted these days. I'm going to try to get back into the groove with blogging, even if it's only to talk about the awesome stuff in my life and focus on that and make all you readers (at this point, just my afore-mentioned friend, sister, and the omnipresent Indiana stalker) embrace your inner inferiority complex!
Ha. Maybe not so much. At least not intentionally.
But talking with my friend was immensely reassuring--she copped to the 9.5 million fights a week she and her husband have (they are still happy, incredibly so), and unintentionally reminded me that that is fairly normal. And that's the lesson of the day...
There's a lot that people don't tell you about being married.
And there's a lot that I still don't know about being married.
But I'm learning.
Not sure that that's what I'll be posting, but expect some good content in the near future!
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