Sunday, December 28, 2014

Tiny Embroidered Fox, Or, Art Can Be Dangerous.

I made a thing.

Here's a picture.

Tiny embroidery. Of a fox. (Obviously.)

I had forgotten how much I dearly love embroidery. The very thing about it that would drive most people batty is what draws me to it. It's so meditative.

And seed beads. I'd forgotten how delicious they are.




I'd also forgotten how sharp needles were. But I did good! I only stabbed myself 57 times.

I might need to force myself to get used to wearing a thimble.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Have A Greasy New Year And All That Crap. Also, I Might Be Crazy And I Don't Know Who The Hell I Am. And I Want A Cheeseburger.

First of all, thank you, dear auto correct. You're absolutely right, of course. I wasn't trying to type Happy New Year, what kind of nonsense is that? I was trying to type Happy Greasy Year! Thank you for correcting me!

Happy Greasy Year!

I think my smart phone is a dumb phone. What does that even mean? A greasy year? Lots of fried chicken? Greasy cheeseburgers? Lots of bacon? French fries? That horrible dive of a restaurant everyone goes to anyway because the greasy food is just that good?

Yeah. Actually that doesn't sound so bad. I could take a cheeseburger right about now.

So.

Ahem.

Anyway.

So apparently I'm going to have to just act crazy in order to figure out if I'm actually crazy.

I KNOW. That totally makes all kinds of sense, I'm sure. You're totally following me, nodding in agreement, as I swiftly change the subject like that.

Ha. Haha. Hahaha. Hahahahahaha.

But seriously, here's the thing. I had a real bad few years. And for a while I faked it well, even though I was a just barely functioning human being. I faked it SO well. I went to work, acted normal. Went home, acted normal. Faked it like I was sane, like I wasn't this close to falling into a deep depression of all out, oh my gosh, what am I gonna do, I can't crawl out of this hole God help me how am I supposed to freaking live like this it's too much to ask from me to even be in this body and this head and my brain won't work and dear Lord do other people go through this how do they survive I feel so sorry for everyone the world is SO SAD I'm just going to stop getting out of bed and stop using commas or any other type of punctuation and abuse the hell out of being able to type really long run on sentences because THAT'S HOW BAD THINGS FEEL. I FEEL ALL THE FEELINGS AND ALL THE FEELINGS FEEL BAD AND SAD.

You follow me so far? Keeping up? Good.

Things weren't so good. Then some Actual Bad Things happened. That, like, normal people would have a real hard time dealing with.

And obviously I kind of wasn't in a good place, and obviously I did not have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with Very Bad Things and Very Real Important Grown Up Things in even ANY kind of way that was even remotely healthy. Apparently there is chemical depression and then there is situational depression, and of course good old anxiety problems and when you throw all those together and then throw in a couple of fun fancy acronyms ALL KINDS OF FUN ENSUES.

So. All that happened.

And now here we are.

And I am healing. At the risk of sounding completely cheesy, I'm finding myself again. Well, finding out I don't know who the hell I am.

These are the things I do know:

I am getting better.

I sort of wasn't "good" for way longer than I realized.

I don't know exactly who I am or what I want to be.

I'm slowly starting to find things, or re-find things, that bring me joy.

I am an artist. I have to make art. I'm not totally clear on exactly what I'm supposed to be making, or precisely how I am supposed to be creating.

But I know, without a doubt, that I'm an artist. That part of me keeps me on the safe side of the Crazy Line. The other side is dark and bleak. And hard to come back from. I know, I've dipped a toe in there a time or two.

And I feel like there is something I'm supposed to be doing as an artist that I am currently not. And dammit I wish I knew what that was.

That feeling grips me every day. Every hour. It SCARES me.

I'm weak. I've been very weak in many ways the last few years. I'm only human. I'm great at procrastination. I'm awesome at not finishing things. I'm excellent at shushing my brain and just going to boring work and going to boring home and crawling in my safe bed until I have to wake up and do it all over again.

Part of my brain is a snotty bitch looking down at me asking, what in the world are you thinking? You've suddenly got five hundred art projects whirling around your brain and you somehow think you're going to finish them all in one day? You'll be 40 in 6 months. You need to do responsible adult things. Like re-start a 401k and think about retirement and crap.

And the other side of my brain is like a nutty hippie all decked out like she's a crazy damn homeless Gypsy running around creating even MORE ideas for things to make.

And so I think I'm going to hang out with the Homeless Crazy Gypsy Hippie for a while. Be selfish. Selfish for the first time in 10 years. And act crazy. Do what the crazy ass hippie wants to do. Screw washing those dishes. Forget cleaning up that mess. 401k what? Making art is more important right now. I don't know what the hell I'm doing but, what will happen if I ACT like I know exactly what I'm doing, and follow this new feeling and follow what I find beautiful, and therefore act like a crazy person? What would happen if I follow and engross myself in what I think is beautiful?

I think I'll do just that. No structure for a while. Just go with the creative flow, make what I want to make, when I want to make it. Actually put that first. Show some reverence for the process. Respect these crazy little idea tunnels my brain wants to go down. Flip my life inside out. Not worry about the outcome for a while. Maybe the outcome isn't my responsibility right now. Maybe what IS my responsibility is to just show up and do the work.

And we'll just see what happens. If it doesn't work, we know I'm crazy. If it does work? Well, I'll still be all kinds of crazy but at least not crazy when it comes to the most important part of my life.

I want that passion back that I had when I was a child.

And I firmly believe that's not too much to ask for.

So. I intend to act crazy to determine whether or not my crazy is REALLY crazy.

This is the new plan.

Starting now.