So Disney World was fun, fun, fun. I only got furious one time and it was at my husband. WE were in MouseGear at Epcot and he insisted that it couldn’t be raining that hard and if it was, then it wouldn’t stop in time for us to get to our dinner reservations in the Japan area of the World Showcase. He was wrong on both counts, and I had told him so before we stepped foot out in it. So that part was not fun. The dance was also difficult in that it gave both kids blisters that hurt them for the res of he trip.
But otherwise it was great particularly our last day when we saw a STOMP-style group called The Jammitors dressed as park cleaners playing garbage cans as drums. I thought our middle child was going to go bonkers with joy. She got to play their set after their performance and talk with them. So that was fun also.
So we got back yesterday and have been doing laundry ever since. The oldest has checked on her job now that she’s home for good for the summer. They said they would call her if they could use her to sub for other teachers at the daycare. SO that was good news. WE go next weekend to Dance Teachers United for our last competition. So that is a good thing upcoming as well. WE’ll have about a month or so off from dance practice, etc. and we will enjoy that.
So all is good on multiple fronts so far this summer. WE will see how the rest of it goes.
Missed posting yesterday I think. I went over to the MiL’s way earlier than planned and then stayed later.
I survived 3 days of being surrounded by people for hours. I’m still glad it’s over though. I never really felt comfortable any where. I spent a lot of my time on the front porch by myself getting stoned. It really helped me get through it. It may totally fuck up my depression but it helps with the anxiety. Wish I didn’t have to quit it eventually, but I know I do.
So much is happening in my life the past few weeks and I haven’t been able to pull my thoughts together for blogging in a while. Last week may have been the best week of my life, and I will discuss all the aspects of it in later posts but for now I’m talking about […]
Mood I saw my pdoc on Friday and told him how well things have been going. No mania, no depression, no hypomania for about a month now. He was as happy to hear it as I was to say it. I did bring up anxiety, though. I mentioned that I still am getting it and […]
Thanks to all my awesome followers I just reached 10,000 views! This is beyond my wildest dreams. When I started I wasn’t sure if I would have anyone interested in my little blog and now, a little less than two … Continue reading →
It would be arrogant for me to assume only U.S. readers glimpse this blog. Thus I will not be exclusionary by doing the American “4th of July” thing.
However…July SPORKTH is a holiday we all can celebrate. Cos sporks are awesome, duh!
I am soooo opposed to banal, meaningless “160 character Twatter” posts. Cos ya know, that’s what Twitter is for. If you have less than X amount of letters…It’s not a blog post. It’s a Tweet, a status update. It’s not worth its own post, no matter how much self touting filler is within.
Hate me? Why? Is it because I am mean? Or because there is a grain of truth here?
YOU twitter bloggers are why I feel entitled to write this utterly pointless post.
That, and…SPORKS ARE FUCKING AWESOME AND SHOULD HAVE THEIR OWN HOLIDAY!
Leave all hate mail @ idon’twannabepopularanyway.com
I’ve been reading Martha Beck’s The Joy Diet, a self-help/Life Coachy recipe for uncovering and going after your Heart’s Desire. If you haven’t been in therapy for decades, and feel like there’s something missing or off in your life, this would be a decent place to start.
I started therapy when Ronald Reagan was President, so none of the material is new to me. Still, I like hearing things presented in a new way, especially when the author has heart and a sense of humor.
Take her chapter on Treats. These are the things/experiences we’re to reward ourselves for taking a risk toward that Heart’s Desire. Very Pavlovian. But Beck also wants her readers to give themselves at least two other Treats a day, just because folks generally don’t do that enough. I liked that.
And Beck’s definition of “Treat?” Anything that makes you feel like smiling. Since most of us are programmed to grimace automatically in public, she gives homework to help the chronically repressed find what actually warms their cockles. I like how she takes her readers by the hand, breaks each step to Nirvana into tiny, measurable actions instead of leaving them stranded in nebulous Woo-Woo Land. And I like how she compares us to pigs.
So some of these ideas percolated in my hind-brain as I played with my art journal this weekend. I worked on a cross-over spread, taking characters from a short story I’m writing and doing cool things with letters they’re writing to each other. I adapted a Dixie Chicks song that I love and made it my character’s. I treated pages from an antique, hand-written journal to use as their stationary. It thrilled me to come at these characters and their story from a different angle, and to make something so gorgeous.
But, when I tried to write my new lyrics on this scrumptious paper, no marker or pen I owned made a consistent mark. I worked for hours, going over the blotchy, ragged letters again and again. It still ended up looking like a serial killer’s tease for the FBI.
I stopped when my hand cramped too much to hold a pen, and I was willing to let it go. Some experiments don’t work. That’s why they’re called experiments.
But as Henry walked across my shins in bed this morning, I got one of those lightbulb ideas. The problem wasn’t with my pens, it was the paper. I’d made it too slick. How could I give it a little bite?
I jumped out of bed and went to work, mixing matte medium with a few drops of gesso, adding paint, then taking fresh pages out of the hand-written journal and applying this concoction with a roller and paper towels. I tested one corner with a gel pen before spraying the pages with fixative. It took the pen beautifully.
The whole process filled me with joy. Setting a problem aside, receiving the answer as I passed through the Creative Gold Mine between sleep and wakefulness, using media I didn’t own two months ago, and actually creating a thing the way I imagined it in my head.
When I finished the spread, I couldn’t stop grinning. Here was everything I loved—my writing, my art, my music, Richard Armitage. . . Layers of meaning overlapped like the layers of paper (I love a metaphor you can actually touch), and color fed some hungry animal inside me.