tuesday afternoon truism...

back at my canvasses today. i inadvertently took a few days off and, though i felt pretty guilty about it at the time, it has definitely aided me in a lot of great ways. the best one being i'm calming down with all that frenzied "NOW! NOW! NOW! GOTTA FINISH THE PAINTING TODAY!" crap i put myself through with the last two paintings. i'm done beating myself up for no good reason. i'm trying to keep to beating myself up for GOOD reasons ONLY. ha! we'll see how long i can make that one stick. when it comes to the art thing, i am such a huge and pitiful glutton for punishment. no more, i say! no more! i want to enjoy being an artist- the luxury of it. having the time to play in paint is a pretty big privilege. and not one that everyone gets a slice of or fights to keep. i've lucked out in a lot of ways and i'm thankful everyday for the life i am currently leading. maybe that's where all the weird self-punishment comes from? masochistic? just a little. :) and that's silly. the best thing i can do, the most honest way i can give thanks and show appreciation for what i've got is to really enjoy them... not squander them by wasting time thinking badly of myself and my work. i'm in a good place. it's my job to remember that. and to protect it.

all better!

The Jog is the cure-all. it really is. moving fast through the wide, empty vineyard at dusk put a quick end to the despondent pity-party i was having for myself earlier today. endorphins are magical. so is sweat and hard breathing. small successes are what save people- breed resilience and self-reliance, enthusiasm. and now my little one is curled up at my feet, in love with her mama again. :) why i even take a day off from The Jog here and there is beyond me. i've got it in my head that it's dangerous to run every day. i'm pretty sure i'm wrong about that and should just do it anyway. it's just too good to me, too good for me. and now, at the end of the day, i'm finally in the mood to paint. ha! i think i'll have to settle for a night of crocheting.

the light...

i woke up with an odd feeling on my shoulders...

it's hot here today. and old dreams, old memories start to stir in weather like this.

it feels like southern california, and so i feel like i did when i lived there... uncomfortable and unsure, scared of something that i've never been able to name. very much like when a person begins to fear they're crazy or stupid or good for nothing. that softer breed of depression that seeps in rather than crashes down. the nag of regret... wishing you'd been able to say what needed to be said... beating yourself up for not being smarter, for trusting the wrong people, for not being able to see what was really going on... guilt over not being strong enough or big enough to be taken seriously or at least act as a shield... guilt over not knowing how to help...

i can't tell myself i was just a kid and feel forgiven.

there's something about the light- the way it casts or when it goes all hot and yellow that is trying to remind me of something i can't remember... a bad dream or some unexplainable thing... people i no longer know... and thankful for it... thankful to be hundreds of miles away.

this is where that indignation of mine comes from... that deep, irrefutable well of clear morals. i've never been that good at standing up for myself. i've only recently learned how to do it, what it is, and when speak up. it's been hard. it is a tough, uncomfortable thing... but i'm quite good at standing up for others. i always have been. i've got a loud mouth... i can take a hit... all i need is a cause. and you're it. those of you who have a hard time standing up for yourselves too- i'll stand up for you. i am impossible to argue with. my logic is flawless. i've never been defeated. never. not when it comes to defending you.

today...

we drove north passed jenner and found a tiny, over-looked trail that lead down to the water. there were two other families there and that was it. we had the whole cove pretty much to ourselves. i found a branch and gave it to my sweetie and he chucked it out in the waves and inga ran in after it. curious and sheepish for a little while, she warmed up to this newness fast- learned to dig her feet in and brace herself against a crashing wave. the man and the dog played and played and i was free to wander up and down the shore collecting polished rocks. i only picked up the smoothest white stones. from the tiniest to the not-so-tiny and i've got 2 apothecary jars full of them now. they are on the window-sill, lovely and natural and free and special. i even found a small, irregular piece of sea-glass and i thought about ships on the bottom of the ocean and the romantic people that throw messages out in bottles.

waiting for tomorrow...

tomorrow morning, bright and early (but not before i've reached my coffee quotient), my sweetheart and i are heading off to the beach.

i haven't been to the beach in at least 5 years. strange. very strange. especially since i'm from southern california.

i miss the sound of the surf and sea-gulls and looking for shells and digging my toes in to the sand and just watching, listening, enjoying. a person can finally breathe at the shoreline. really breathe. truly. i can't believe it's been this long since i've sat on a towel and breathed in the salt. i want my hair to go all wild again and my freckles to pop out in the sun.

DEtroit - that's how they say it...

direct quote from Pat-

"i hate that fuckin guy. i hope a piece of space junk falls on his ass."

yes. space junk. i'm still laughing non-stop. i don't know where the guy gets this stuff but something tells me if i found myself in a dive bar in detroit, i'd be with a whole bunch of men who talked the same way. god bless DEtroit and the men that are born there. your accent makes me smile.

die, scumbag!

putting on another pot of coffee- i did the damned dreaded dishes and am now free to while away my evening in sweat and oil. The Jog awaits and i've decided that its call with never go unanswered ever again. ever. it's too good to me to cast aside. my brain loves the fast rush of oxygen and so does my heart and my legs and my waist and my painting practice too. i'm trying to tame the dirty little snot-nosed perfectionist in me and ignore her to death. yes, ignore her til she dies. she's a mean little brat and i'm tired of sharing my life with her. she must be murdered or tied up and blindfolded at least. The Jog helps to silence her. all hail The Mighty Jog.

all-male revue...

funny little side-effect of working on the maid portraits: my tremendous aversion to housework has been horribly amplified. it's a bit embarrassing to admit, but i'm actually having a pretty tough time remembering when i actually did the dishes... i mean other than merely washing the ONE dish i'm getting ready to use. GROSS! yes, seems i am a dude in my own right. a bachelor who just so happens to be female. which sort of makes our humble little home a big-ass bachelor pad of sorts. i mean, my sweetie is legitimately a man and i've always, to one extent or another, exhibited traditionally (or stereotypically) "male" tendencies or characteristics- the aversion to cleaning being one of the more funny ones. so after i noticed this, i realized that, historically at least, painting is a traditionally male pursuit. my sweetheart is a mechanic- another traditionally masculine profession. throw in the fact that neither one of us seem to think it's our responsibility to do the laundry or the dishes after a long, hard day at work... the fact that we're both kinda, sorta pig-headed... and we'd rather watch MMA or "Deadliest Catch" rather than beautify our surroundings... we've got a totally typical dude-house here. ha!

i'll be taking a break from painting early today to do ALL the dishes. :)

what's a poem?

today i actually slept in. i lolled around drinking hazelnut coffee and spent a good 2 hours on the phone with my mama. i talked with my new neighbor and welcomed her in to our strange little happy fold. i did a bit of painting as the light started to change and the afternoon arrived. i took an evening walk with my dog and let her off the leash to run and play and smell the smells. she gets stuck on sniffing pretty easily and it's cute. one of my favorite sights in life is watching her velvet ears bounce as she trots along. i don't know why- it's just so damn cute! i smile every time. and then back at home, i tucked a tired man in bed and kissed his forehead.

now, i'm thinking about poems and what they are and what they mean and how to build them and that all the rules are a bit lame and "relevant" to whom? it's a mysterious thing and a precious thing and i'm getting closer and closer to the point of not caring too much if the poems are any good or not, if they're "correct". i care if they fill whatever damn hole it is that i'm trying to fill. i care if they cushion the blow of the world and if they're able to rip off the old band-aid and get me moving forward again. i care that they are fearless and unapologetic and if they sing. and i do want to be good too... whatever that means. but not the kind of good that brings acceptance, the kind of good that makes a happy life. the kind of good that makes the old fears die... or at least make them mean something. the kind of good a person feels at the end of a hard day's work... glad to put down the shovel and come on home.

calm...

while i was in the city last week, i had a really wonderful conversation with a person from my gallery. she was very attentive and patient and listened to me go on and on about the things i'm wrestling with- career blah, blah, blahs that, in the end, seemed a bit silly. she validated all my concerns but also let me know that i think a bit too much sometimes- a bad habit of mine that i had hoped gone unnoticed. ha! but it's good that it hasn't because hearing it from someone who cares about me, cares about my career, and cares about my general well-being really worked to relax me... put the brakes on my anxieties and bring me back down to earth. if this is my life's work, what's the rush? and she's right. 'nail on the head' right. and now that it's been a couple of days and i'm back to my normal schedule of painting and jogging, i feel clear and calm. the work has been and always will be the most important thing. i get ahead of myself sometimes... get all bent out of shape about things that, when it comes right down to it, are really just ego-strokers anyway. and i'm not in this for that reason. what matters most to me is that people have an honest, heart-felt experience with the work... even if it's a reactionary experience or one of disgust. almost any reaction is good so long as it isn't boredom. :) and that experience will happen as long as i am honest and heart-felt in the studio. my strange anxiety the other day about being too far from the city has been calmed. i'm lucky to live where i do- wide open fields to run through that are always in bloom... a different flower taking over each month... a place that's spread out enough to be LOUD at night and have it be alright... a place where all the stars come out and it's quiet enough to think and sing and get silly without feeling any embarrassment at all.

i need to send a thank you letter her way.