New.

i'm working on a new project. it's almost ready to be released into the universe.

i really hold belief that this year will be a year of "new" for me. i will push myself to try new things, do new things. i've already started with this new project of mine and there are a few more "firsts" on my horizon (just put a deposit down on something i've always dreamed of doing, SUPER excited about that).

the other day i had a first in my house. i've lived here for about 5 years and have never had an incident on my crazy steep 1800's stairs. the other day, i did. carrying a fresh cup of tea up to my studio i stumbled and crashed down on, simultaneously, my shin, knee, and thigh. hot rooibos dripped from the walls and downward like a slinky along the steps. as one of my cats chased the river a stinging pain coursed up my leg and left me immobile. Damian was out at the time and all i could think was "am i going to have to sit here until he comes back? i have things to do dammit!" luckily sensation returned and i hobbled down towards the kitchen to refill my mug. i now have some artistic bruising in 3 spots on my leg, lovely colours i must say.

i have twice opened up to how i'm feeling to others (not like me, i tend to keep it all inside) and it has helped to lighten my metaphorical steps. lesson learned there, definitely.

newness and change opens creativity and this year i long for that more than ever. it's time, i've waited long enough. let's do this!

sensory imagination

A seashell sat beside me on the subway this evening. That is, a man who smelled of a seashell (an endearing scent on a shell but not so much on a human). He had a musty salted scent about him, like when you collect shells off a beach in a little plastic bag and seal it up until you get home. Upon re-opening it you are struck with a warm sea air mingled with plastic. the scent of an ocean home long ago abandoned by a little creature.

the seashell was picking his nose and reading my book over my shoulder. very un-seashell like if you ask me.

much like a little ocean creature, the seashell eventually relinquished his temporary home (the seat beside me). his exit made way for a summery clothes line of fresh linen with blonde hair. i enjoyed the remainder of my ride on an imaginary light breeze.

what say you, universe?

i wrecked that painting. i spent all afternoon and night working on it and then something happened, some beast took the reins and overworked it into a blotchy mess.

i guess it wasn't meant to look the way i intended it to. It didn't want to follow the path i was creating. I wonder what it's supposed to look like? We shall see, for I will attack it once again. Damian said "well i guess that's why pencils have erasers!" i liked that, it made me smile. in this case my eraser is a big bucket of gesso.

Do you ever have a visual in your head and then work that vision to death until it becomes something entirely different, like a muddled blob? My problem is that i think too much. i have to reprogram my head and stop doing that, i have to just go with it and let whatever voice from the universe that's trying to say something flow out and say it! Generally, as i've found out, the mess tends to recreate itself into something better. It's still hard to say goodbye to the pretty hidden under the pile of yuck but oh well, moving on.

First i think i'll have a cuppa and float under some bubbles, maybe flip through a magazine and get some inspiration for a new project i'll be playing with later. i'm so excited about it, it requires the use of Damian's workshop and safety goggles! Fun fun fun!!!

p.s. i just discovered a tangle of black paint in my hair. luckily it's in the ends because it might require scissors to remove it.

something about stillness

my sojourn into freedom is almost over. in a few hours i will have to go to bed in order to wake up at an hour which should be illegal to see (unless you're already awake and loving life as it approaches). It's been 2 weeks since i've had to wake up to 5:30am screaming an alarm of radio pop music at me, i'm not looking forward to doing it again.

this post is not (necessarily) a complaint, more of an observation.

yesterday as i sat cuddled into the corner of my couch with a fire burning and twinkling tree lights illuminating the room i realized just how much i love my house. i adore being home, i love the history my house holds (it's over 140 years old), i love the comfort of it's walls. I also realized how in these two weeks of unregimented time i was able to think again, come up with new ideas. My head was not the property of someone else's schedule, it was mine, all mine.

The ideas were flooding in at a feverish pace, i was getting excited to implement them. Now is the year (as everyone no doubt is saying) to change it all around. I can't spend another one as i did the last, full of monotony, commuting, and blah... for lack of a better word. I need some real LIFE this one around, life i can enjoy and be excited about. not that sitting behind a desk pushing papers and scheduling other people's meetings isn't full of adventure (i can't tell you how many times i had to climb glaciers to get a bag of chips to a meeting or outrun a bounty hunter when i didn't get my cab invoice in on time, phew). sarcasm at it's best baby.

Join me in the positivity, this is it! if 2012 really is the end of life as we know it then all we have is 1 year. Let's live it magical, colourful, wondrous, sexy, exuberant, daring, alive! Lets make 2011 our bitch!