The Blog-o-Sea

I spent a lot of yesterday looking at blogs. I even commented upon a few of them, like I said I was going to. That’s good, big step up in my not being a frickin hermit and hiding my head (and my writing) in a hole. I found this one blog that I thought was hysterical and brilliant. The best I’d read in… well, possibly the best ever, in part because she isn’t trying to be something that she’s not, and part because she’s just that good a writer, and part because she is, did I say it? HYS. TER. I. CAL.

Check out this post if that is in dispute… but don’t if you have a sensitivity about cuss words, condoms, or the torture of teenagers. http://boobsinjuriesanddrpepper.blogspot.com/2007/03/filed-under-parents-1-smart-ass-teenage.html

I think she is so funny that it makes me all shy inside. I have my sense of humor, but it’s a much lighter, dryer, flakier kind of humor… like a biscuit.

A biscuit? What kind of metaphor is that? I guess I also just went to this blog http://www.thepioneerwomancooks.com/ so I’m feeling kind like blueberry cobbler.

Looking at all these blogs, though, got me thinking. I am no novice to this genre. Not to blogs and not to personal essays and not to journaling. Computers, I’m not so good with, but writing, that’s my thing. And journal writing? Well I’ve got about 70 hardbound journals sitting in a bookcase to attest to my experience with that. I’ve got just as much of a right to be seen and read and enjoyed as any other blogger. Everyone does, hurrah for the democracy of the internet, but why do I have this feeling in me that no one would want to bother with what I have to say? I mean, any more so than anyone else.

It’s time to take myself seriously as a writer—as someone who can and should be read be persons other than my immediate circle.

Get on out there, Rosy, the water’s fine (sharks? what sharks?)

See more progress on: Be a better blogger

When nothing is sure, everything is possible

So says Marge Drabble

Good quote. So true.

I probably won’t be living where I live by this time next year, because of a psychotic landlord who has just up and decided he won’t renew our lease. Don’t know where we’re going, but I doubt it will be here, (unless said landlord gets therapy.)

Instead of freaking out about all the change, instead of worrying over unknown possibilities, instead of grieving the loss of my home, I’ve decided to embrace the change. I’ve also decided to take advantage of all that my neighborhood has to give.

I’m looking forward to change. Change gives a fresh start in live, and I’m kind of feeling as if I am in a transition period… or perhaps nearing the end of the transition and wanting to really move forward. A new home, a new neighborhood… it could be good. I have faith that we will find a place that we will be happy with. So believing that, I want to have fun with the last of my life here.

I want to go to galleries. I want to take the boy to that little garden by the park. I want to walk across the Williamsburg bridge. I want to go to the Metropolitan Museum of art. I want to take a ferry across the East River… I think there’s a ferry landing a few blocks to the south of us. I want to have more picnics in the park as long as it’s warm. I want to try that pizza place I heard was yummy. Maybe I want to write some articles for the neighborhood newspaper again, (maybe, maybe not.) I want to have better relationships with the other moms here, too. Stop being so antisocial, even if we might move far away, that doesn’t mean I can’t make connections that last.

It also means stop complaining about the sucky things in the neighborhood and the apartment, and just enjoy what’s there. Let go of it with joy.

See more progress on: enjoy where I live to the fullest

I Think Warriors Should Know

When to ease back.

A warrior needs to take charge of herself, be aware of what’s needed and necessary and take a break. Be kind to herself.

Breathing deeply is important. Caring for the self. Figure out what recharges and what depletes.

It will be clear when it’s time to charge forward again.

See more progress on: Be a Warrior

Having a project makes me feel closer to being an adult, again

A project or two not related to children, housework or being a mom, that is.

I feel a little selfish, sometimes, when my time and energy go into my art or writing, instead of the kids or the house, but I need to do this, for me. I don’t know if I would be happy with ‘homemaking’ as my focus for life. Sometimes, I wish I could. I would not be as pulled in as many directions. I wouldn’t feel like I was somehow subpar as a mother.

I’ve got to get all those expectations out of my head. There is no “should be” for life, mothering, or being a woman. There are lots of ways to be. And I am who I am. Ignoring the rest of myself won’t make the non-mom-me go away, it’ll just make me miserable. The all of me, mom-me and non-mom-me both.

I am an artist. I am a writer. I am a mother. I am not a very good housekeeper. I guess something has to give.

See more progress on: Develop my life outside of being a mother and (shudder) homemaker

The Cat Burglar

This was one of my favorite sketches from this week. I used the gouache I bought to paint it in my journal, but the paper is not good enough to sell, I think. I either need to find some good paper in my house, or go buy some. I might have it. I’m just a little disorganized with my supplies, since it’s been so long since I did any art.

See more progress on: paint 5 pictures a week

Chugga Chugga Chugga, Choo Choo. The little engine starts to move.

Searching through etsy gets the juices going again, but if you don’t capture that inspiration right away, it dribbles right out of your ears.

Today I painted three paintings. Not ones I can sell. I’m not ready to use good paper when I’m still just experimenting, but I’m getting the ideas and the style down. Closer anyway.

All three were on a blue background, then I gessoed in white figures, then painted the outline of the figures over the gesso. Child-like in style.

One was “Cookie Boy, with the power to resist dinner.” One was “The Super Pooper, with the power to: you don’t want to know.” Both of those were superheroes with red flying capes. And then the last was “My White Rabbits” and it was two child like white rabbits, one a big boy, one a baby. The big boy yelling/roaring and the baby looking up adoringly at the big boy.

I didn’t get to do any more mature art, but I guess we’ll just see what develops. Somehow, that kind of work didn’t come out, although I was doing sketches of skylines and birds and all. Oh well.

See more progress on: be an artist again

One Way to See the World Through the Eyes of Your Child

Take a different route home.

It’s surprising how new the familiar can seem when you see it from a different direction, literally. North instead of South. East instead of West.

I don’t know if I was delighted by my little adventure, but it didn’t feel like the same old same old. There was a bit of wonder.

See more progress on: regain my childlike wonder and delight in the universe

I Write in The Laundromat

Lately, I find myself going up and down with everything. One day, I'll have it all under control. The next, no so much. When there's so much going on, it's really easy to get overwhelmed.

The overwhelm is not worth it. It's not worth it to wallow in the 'poor me's. There are things I want in life, I need to get there. It doesn't do any good to panic about how far I have to go, or how hard I have to work to get there, or get bogged down in the fear.

I can only give this minute at any given minute. So, yeah, I need to keep my eyes on the prize and do some of my dreaming and planning to figure out what I have to do to get that prize, but really. Really. What I need to do is act. I need to write. I need to paint. I need to take care of my kids. I even need to wash the dishes. I need to DO what I need to do, in that moment. And I need to take all those moments I have and really use them. I don't want to waste any of it.

I just found Ariel Gore's blog and her post on this ,http://arielgore.com/2007/07/i-write-in-laundromat.html was wonderful and just exactly what I needed right now, in this instant.

And so was the poem she shared. Thanks so much Ariel for your writing and insight.



I Write in The Laundromat:

I write in the Laundromat.
I am a woman
and between wash & dry cycles
I write.

I write while the beans soak
and with children's voices in my ear.
I spell out words for scrabble
while I am writing.

I write as I drive to the office
where I type a man's letters
and when he goes to lunch
I write.

When the kids go out the door
on Saturday I write
and while the frozen dinners thaw
I write.

I write on the toilet
and in the bathtub
and when I appear to be talking
I am often writing.

I write in the Laundromat
while the kids soak
with scrabbled ears
and beans in the office
and frozen toilets
and in the car
between wash and dry.
And your words
and my words
and her words and their words
and I am a woman
and I write in the Laundromat.

By Marcy Scheiner

Another Double Page Spread in My Alice in Wonderland Book

I did it a while ago, but never posted.

It’s all about the illustration, here. It’s when Alice shrinks and ends up in a sea of her own tears. I myself sometimes feel as if I am treading water in a day to day life of my own making. Being a mom is hard, and the demands of needing to be everything for everybody sometimes drown out your own identity, and you forget to be there for yourself. Trying to keep a hold of who I am.

The text says: (sideways) “As wet as ever,” said ALice in a melan-choly tone; “it doesn’t seem to dry me at all.”

(and below) “Why, she, of course,” said the Dodo, pointing to Alice with one finger; and the whole party at once crowded round her, calling out in a confused way, “Prizes! Prizes!”

See more progress on: create an altered book

Did some quick paintings

Have decided that my paintings right now should be rather autobiographical. Stick with what you know, you know?

Follow my inspiration, which is, right now, my little guys. The boy did some painting on his own, then when he went to bed, I let myself be inspired by what he had done. One of the pieces was called “The Boy Wants to Paint.” Another was called, “The Boy Was Sad and Did Not Know Why.”

I used child like stick figures and watercolor washes like scribbling, the way the boy does, and put them together. Both paintings featured little boys with their mouths wide open—roaring, yelling, laughing???? I think I will call them the Roar series.

I kind of like them. So does the boy. I asked him. I am going to have to experiment with medium, though, because using kids watercolors and writing pen on a journal page is not the most enduring of artwork. I’ve got to find the right kind of paper and the right kind of ink/paint combo to sell them. Experiment, experiment. And develop. That’s what it means to be an artist again.

See more progress on: be an artist again