Antsy

I am starting to feel very, very ANTSY.


I feel like I am about to burst or something. Do you ever feel this way? It is as if The Universe is urging me, through some strange Spiritual Barometric Pressure, to get my butt in gear and start actively shaping my life.


I have been coasting, now, for quite a while. Since finally finishing The Masters, I have simply sat back and enjoyed the ride. For perhaps too long. I do not regret taking this time to chill the fuck out. The constant pressure of having The Masters hanging over my head -- and knowing I was doing it to myself, thus creating a fantastic emotional spiral of shit -- took a huge toll on me. I needed to give myself a break. I needed to heal. To unlearn the process of constantly berating myself for being such a failure. Remember how to ignore That Voice. To gain a new perspective and forgive myself.


However, it is time to put myself out there. I am beginning to feel the atrophy of My Person. 


It is time to start painting again, and not worry about the result. Just paint. The doing. The result is NEVER what I expect (or want, truthfully) so why worry about it? 


In fact, what I am most excited about right now is finding my style. You would think that I was doing this while earning my BFA. No, no. Instead of trusting myself and accepting what my art was, I fretted and stewed. I constantly compared my work to everyone else's, and thus, learned to hate my own creations. (Yes, there will be many therapy hours devoted just to this crap.) (Also, it did not help that there was a gaggle of male painters who sort of fancied themselves as the next group of Pollock*, Calder, and de Kooning American Male Geniuses.** (BARF.) And the faculty all fell for it. It kind of sucked to be a girl in my program at the time.)


I have been drafting an email that I want to send to Black Sheeped, my friends W. and KNC, and an amazing artist just down the road from me that I discovered through Google+. I am going to ask them if they have any suggestions of exercises and advice for me as I embark on this discovery. So far, my plan is to just DRAW EVERYDAY for 30 minutes. And keep drawing. And drawing. With different materials. 


I am just going to focus on this for a while. 


It is also time to put in a serious and diligent effort into finding a new job. A. is miserable where he is and job hunting has really kicked the shit out of him. If I can find something in a new location, we can move and that would do him a world of good. 


I do not feel pressure or even responsibility to find a new job to help A. feel better. I just want to. We talk about this a lot. As far as I am concerned, it is just another manifestation of how I am loving him right now, if that makes sense. 


Besides, I am coasting an a nice, even plateau at work, and nothing sends me spiraling into boredom (and less productivity) than a plateau. It is time to move on.


So - wahoo! I am back at the wheel!


* Jackson Pollock was born in Wyoming! Connections to Wyoming never cease to make me proud.


** I am always bitter that more women aren't recognized in art history, or are recognized with the requisite preface or "woman." Just like someone is "adopted" or "black." Can't we just be human first? Sometimes those distinctions are necessary, but lately I feel like they just serve to further keep up divisional borders.  ANYWAY.

Here. Stare at my face!

Not really. I am not posting a picture of my face here. But, I would like your input on a project I have bouncing around my head.

Like many of you, I am sure, I have hundreds of pictures of friends and family. They are stored on my computer, my back up drive, my phone. It is great that we can catch just about any event in our lives, both ordinary and special.

I never look at these pictures. And if I thought to, the last thing I would want to do is park my butt in front of a computer or squint on a tiny phone screen in order to take a trip down memory lane. I never see the faces of the people I share my life with and I am not reminded of the goofy situations or fun trips captured in those digital tidbits.

I, personally, would love to have little albums - actual, physical albums -  chronicling each year.

It is so! revolutionary! It is like a photo album or something.

I bring this up because I am really considering sending out a small, annual photo book to family and a few friends. I imagine these little codices as a picture-book-holiday-letter. I would carefully select the photos and keep it to a small, tasteful size so that it can easily be stored in the bookshelf. 

I swear I would make these little guys ABRIDGED versions of our year.

Is that a weird gift? Does it seem - pushy? Conceited? All, "Hi! I am assuming you would like the opportunity to look at my likeness on paper! And have said likeness occupy space in your home! Here you go!"

Originally I was thinking of doing annual photo books of my little family (A., Buster, Belle and myself) and our year, so that we always have something to look back on. Because, come on. I am NEVER going to print off a bunch of pictures and make a traditional photo album. EVER. But, I'd like to have an annual catalog of our years together.

Then, I thought, that seems like a nice thing to share with family. (I would love books like these from family and close friends! HINT, HINT.)

What do you think? Would you want a photo book from a family member or close friend each year? Or would you groan and then be filled with anxiety/guilt about whether to keep it or toss it?

Friday Five

1.
I spent a weekend in Hermann, Missouri a few weeks ago to attend a wedding. I ran around with the bride throughout college, then again for four years in Washington, DC, and AGAIN in my current location. So, not only was it super fun to be at her wedding, it was like a mini reunion with friends from college and DC. You guys. I had SO. MUCH. FUN.

Hermann is a positively delightful little place, by the way. It was purposefully settled by Germans and turned into wine country. No, really.

I can't say I'd recommend every wine produced in the region, but I wholeheartedly endorse the 2007 Norton by Hermannhof Vineyards. It is not too dry and is spicy. Love it. In fact, I liked it so much that I checked my carry-on bag so as to bring a bottle home with me. (They don't ship to Wyoming.) It became a rather expensive bottle of wine in my case, but is otherwise modestly priced.

It was fun to run around wine-tasting and socializing and dancing. It was a nice change from ice-fishing, and even fly fishing. I need both types of cultural experiences in my life.

2.
Boy, I miss having close friends near by. Everyone I am close with lives between 600 and 2,000 miles away.It is so different to share the trivial moments of daily life with people you are close to than with acquaintances.


How the hell do you make friends as an adult without coming across as CREEPY and DESPERATE?


Am I just a sorry case?


3.
Things have been busy and hectic. A. and I bought a new (used) truck. It is awesome and pretty and it is not falling apart. We had to control ourselves during test drives, so as not to blurt out, "This is cool! It rides so smooth! You don't We were planning on this purchase happening in the spring, but we got a gentle nudge from our old pick up:

Happily, no one was hurt when that wheel took off on its own. My stepmom was delighted in the fact that we "drove the truck until the wheels came off!"

Indeed, we did.

4.
I am itching to knit. The weather is coooold and another storm is moving in. It seems the perfect time to snuggle up in the rocking chair with a bunch of soft yarn in my hands.

Knitters - what are you working on? I am going to make some leg warmers for a friend's granddaughter, and then I am open to anything. Suggestions? I am actually anxious to knit on some single pointed needles. Every project I've done so far has involved 4 or 5 double-pointed needles. I am not in the mood to wrestle with a pointy, kraken-like object.

5.
I broke down. I renewed my contract with Overcharging National Wireless Provider and got myself an iPhone.

This is one of the most exorbitant purchases I've ever made. I had it all planned out - I was going to dump Overcharging National Wireless Provider and save $35 a month.

But then I saw how stinkin' fun it can be to use an iPhone for all sorts of things while in Missouri with everyone. I made up my mind then and there.

And it is pretty damn fun. Although, Jess is KICKING MY ASS at Words With Friends.

Friday Five

1.
Buster is consistently doing "fake jumps" before he finally jumps up onto the bed in the morning. These scrambly, hoppy acrobatics are like false starts, like he has to convince himself he can do it or he is warming up his hips or something.

It is breaking my heart. 

I find myself thinking about when it is time to give that ultimate gift: mercy. To let the dogs go when they are old and in pain. I am so afraid this is coming soon. 

I can't believe how hard this has been on me, actually. I guess the last time I had a dog put down I was a kid. I cried for days. But I was crying for a loss. Now, I am crying from carrying that wonderful burden I took up when I decided to care for these creatures. It is an awesome, horrible thing.

2.
This morning, as I was driving into town, I thought to myself, "Oh! I bet it will be easy to get parking space today. I am sure a bunch of folks are taking off to go hunting."

I was right. Delightful!

It struck me, as I parked in my easily-found space, how different regions of this country are so very unique in the patterns of the everyday minutiae. Indeed, it is everyday life that jolts me the most deeply. It makes the big, obvious differences between the western Rockie region and DC seem like exibitionistic performances. A staged play that we are all in on. But the everyday moments demonstrate how totally different it is to live in the Rocky Mountain West from the East Coast, and especially DC.

I am grateful. I clearly took living out here, in this way, for granted before I moved to DC. Now I get to delight in it. I was able to revel in the differences while living in DC, but it was DC that shook me. Now it is the West's turn to speak up and demand my attention.


3.
Winter is rapidly approaching. This weekend we are supposed to have super crappy weather: wind, rain and snow. Gross. But we've had a bit of a discernable fall, so I will try not to complain too much. 

4.
Although I am not looking forward to EIGHT MONTHS of winter, I have kind of enjoyed the winter preparation activities. Draining and rolling up the hoses, moving the patio furniture to the shed, getting the windows and doors ready. It feels a bit like some kind of ritual to recognize and usher in winter. 
 
5.
I am planning all sorts of indoor projects, too. I am going to try and sew some totes for our camping chairs. Start baking bread again.  Knit something and FINISH it. I would love to knit a few baby blankets, but that may be setting an "unrealistic goal."

How are you all? How has autumn been treating you?

Happy Friday!

What If

Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I wondered what my life would be now if I'd decided to wait just a bit longer to leave DC and move to Wyoming. What if I'd put grad school off for one more year?

Maybe I would have dated that cutie pie named Derek. I met him at a post-kickball gathering at The Irish Times. I think we were both wearing our "umpire" red t-shirts that night. Yes, I think that is why we started talking. He was sweet. He lived in Maryland. He traveled to Baghdad frequently for work. He was a Republican. But he sure seemed nice. I met him a month before I moved.

Maybe I would have traveled to one more country before being land-locked. (Flying from Denver is SO. MUCH. MORE. EXPENSIVE. than traveling from the East Coast!) Maybe I would have finally gone to Turkey. Or Morocco.

Maybe I would have continued sinking further into my dysthymia depression. Somehow, I think that living alone in that city with this illness would have turned out much, much worse for me. I wonder how depressed I would have become. I wonder if I would have had someone there to tell me to get help. I think there are a couple of people who would have, if I gave them the opportunity. But it was so much easier to hide in the city. I am afraid I would have just hid from everyone and slowly faded away into something grey.

+++

As it turns out, I met an incredibly genuine and honest man who has never traveled to Baghdad. A. doesn't just seem sweet, he is sweet. He is a Socialist. I met a man who taught me how to fish and who wakes me up with turkey calls. I met the right man. I met my companion for this life.

I have seen so much of the Rocky Mountain West in the past six years. It has done my soul good to be in the mountains regularly. I love being in the water; standing in a mountain stream is a true joy and seems to remind me of my connection to the Divine. It has been a pleasure to get to know the valleys and creeks and critters. To get to know the rhythms and patterns of the natural world. To know a place intimately, rather than just flirt with it for a few days. (Though flirting is fun and I will never turn down a trip!)

I have been gently led to my path of sanity, led back to my right mind.

+++

I am so thankful I had the guts to leave DC in 2004.

Skiing

The week spent fly fishing was so, so wonderful. The area in which we fish every year is one of my most favorite places on this earth.

The trip was also quite therapeutic. I did not think I was overly stressed out, but judging by just how damn good I felt when we returned home, I must have been wound pretty tight. 

It was great to just hang out with A. Usually, our friend MG joins us, but was unable to make the trip this year. I felt so content just hanging out, fishing, cooking over a campfire, etc. We were able to enjoy each other and spend our days and evenings however we wanted. 

As usual, I fell even more in love with A.

 

AWWWWWW. I know. I will shut up now.

About that.

There was a morning that I positively wanted to maim A. Oh, yes. Or at least throw him down the damn mountain we "walked" along.

An unending stream of perfectly articulated variations on the "Come to Jesus" theme ran through my head as I bumbled my way across TWO hills and down a goddamn mountain. (I swear it was a MOUNTAIN.) No, no, this is not a usual state of affairs between A. and I. No, this ugly tirade fills my brain whenever A. wants to "walk" (i.e. hike, climb, FALL) to a fishing spot that is promised to be "just over this hill" (over the hill beyond the hill we are already standing on plus another hill we can't see yet).


Hmft.

HA HA HA HA.  I loooooove this. In river sandals. It is my favorite outdoor activity! 

(I admit that I am really an asshole about this. I don't say any of this out loud to A., and I think I did a better-than-average job of keeping my attitude in check.)

You guys. I wish I would have stopped to take a picture of the absurdity I went through to get to this particular stretch of river. Never mind that I caught a 15-inch cutthroat trout. (That was fun.)

I skied down the mountain. Yes. Skied. I am positive the decline was at 45 degrees or higher. It was INSANE. Well, for me it was. A. only grumbled a couple of times and that was usually in response to my melodramatic grunts from Extraordinary and Ridiculously Superhuman Feats of Mountain-side Gymnastics. 

Much of the mountain side was covered in dense vegetation, lots of aspens, pines, and other Sturdy Mountain Plants. I basically just let myself flail downward, sticking a foot in front of me and hands raised in front of my face to keep from getting whipped by all the plants. I was simply propelled by gravity. It was useless for me to really get any kind of footing. I was wearing my Chaco river sandals (kind of bendy, and I was hurting the hell out of my toes) and couldn't see the ground regardless. So, I just slid along the shrubbery and trees in front of me, grabbing hold of Sturdy Mountain Plants to stop my fall. 

I was being utterly ridiculous, but it worked. I made it down the MOUNTAIN.

I will let you imagine how fun that was. Oh, also: I had to keep up with A. who was Moving Ahead with Purpose. You know, way too damn fast for my bumbling idiot self.

Good times! 

This really was the least steep and vegetated section of the MOUNTAIN side in which to travel. Half of my whimpering may have included the phrase (with variation), " I cannot fucking believe we have to go BACK UP THIS later."

Yeah, I was a real treat to be around that morning. 

Don't get me wrong. I genuinely hated that half hour or so. But otherwise? It was heaven. 

And I am genuinely glad I was there with A. He was thoughtful enough to scout out a much less steep area upstream for us to climb back up at the end of the day. Maybe next time I can try not to be such a brat.