Bits

This is a little something I will like to call My Bits (not the naughty ones, gross).

These Bits will be a little note now and then on my commercial consumerist capitalist desires (as disgusting and unnecessary as they are!). I'm not a big spender, but when I see something I love, there can be a problem! Usually I am good enough to talk myself out of it until I've justified - really justified - a big purchase. But it's the little, seemingly inconsequential things that get me every time.

Well my BITS (not those ones) will now be on display for you all (awkward).
If not to just get it out of my system, than to share with you beautiful things we can materialistically consume together and feel guilty about later.

Let's put it this way.
If I had a lot of money I would do a lot of big things. Big, wonderful, mostly moral, life-changing things.
But I don't, so when I have a little bit of cash here and there, I want little bitty things.

Here's a start.
If I had a bit of extra money RIGHT NOW, I would want...
(caution: someone else's bits enclosed)

* $

The Starbucks Project

In my efforts to write a book, I have decided to do a little field work in the way of character development; The Starbucks Project. 


This is a blend of delicious beverages, comfortable seating in public spaces and my keen ability to eavesdrop like a jealous roommate and observe people from afar, making conclusions about their life based on knowing absolutely nothing of them beyond their current outfit and drink of choice, all while going unnoticed from behind my little notebook. Yes, I am creepy. Yes, I am exploiting my stalker talents for my own creative advances. Yes, it could be you, Miss Grande Non-Fat Milk Skinny Caramel Macchiato, that I'm writing about next!


As often as possible, I will visit a new Starbucks location and sit there with my little book, seek someone out with my naughty little eyes, and slander them with my presumptions about their life!


The trick will be to visit a different Starbucks each time for a change of scenery and also to broaden the scope and variety of patrons I can scheme over.


I have already written a few and I will post them in due time. Some of them are rubbish and go nowhere. Others inspire a whole series of stories. You've got to make a whole lot of rough copies before you get to something great though, right? Even some of the ones I've discarded may come back into my head with new revelations. Either way, used or discarded, it's all good practice. AND I get to creep people all day without guilt!

Fail

Well, my post TV drain day turned out just lovely. Funny what a little self-loathing (read: motivation) can do!

Now, time for a little Martha Stewart fun. Although, had I actually looked up how to do this by Martha Stewart, I probably wouldn't have spent 3 hours fixing my mistakes and throwing things at walls (read: learning creative development through overcoming obstacles). 

I present to you, the very amateur and hardly worth mentioning...

10-Step Display Board Creationism!

TVDV

You know, I can reflect and meditate and write about false idols all I want... at the end of the day I'm still gonna compare myself to others. It's a sick, sick addiction. Everyone does it, so it's cool, right? It's okay? No one's going to send me to rehab because everyone's on the same drug.

I've decided today, as I have on many other days before, that TV is the DEVIL. Not to exclude all other mass produced media because those are just as deadly but the Tev Dev is the worst. You get sucked in, you think "okay, I'm just gonna relax a for a few ticks" and then you watch and watch, things that don't even interest you, but they're on... then 3 hours later you're watching Born To Be: Kesha and comparing her success to talent ratio versus your own and slowly spiraling into despair. Why did I wake up three hours ago with big creative plans for the day and am only getting up now, slothy and unmotivated to proceed with said creativities?

Due to this totally unheard of revelation, I am sentencing myself to be extra productive today. Like, super extra. I do know that I'm better than that, and I do know that I'm capable, so I do understand that there's no reason to sit and watch the picture screen while my aspirations and self confidence sizzle into nothingness. No more TeeVeeDeeVees and no more slacking and no more "if only I..." wishes.

And by this I do solemnly swear.
Check back for updates!

Choice

Don't get me wrong, I'm so very lucky and grateful for all the choices and freedom our generation has...
But maaaaaaan, F%@# choices! This is the very root of so many of our problems. We just don't know what to do with ourselves because there's so much opportunity all around us!

I can spend 40hrs a week dedicating my heart, head and soul to a particular thing and know that, if I continue with such dedication, I will most like be successful at it. But after a couple weeks, I look to my right, and BAM! there's something else incredibly alluring that I could also be successful at.

No! I say, you will not sway me from my goal, I'm dedicated! I continue another couple weeks on my original project. All the while Mr. Alluring Side Project is hanging around, invading my personal space - so rude! I begin to question my choices, wondering if I'm really happy with this goal, and if I will really feel successful at it, as much so as I would if I took on that other sneaky little idea. Then I spend another two weeks, 40hrs a week, worrying about my choices like it's my job; toiling over my own brain, through my heart, to find a sign. A couple weeks of that and then I'm just a big ol' grumpy pants, mad at myself for wasting so much time thinking and not any time doing anything...

Are you with me?

If we lived 50 years ago, yes we would have been through harder times and missed out on all this spoiling we get. I'd probably be a housewife with 6 kids, going crazy with boredom and lack of self expression, feeling pent up and taking it out on a bottle of vodka that I keep hidden under the kitchen sink where I know my husband will never look. After a few years of internalized stress, it would start to seep out and heads would turn in the hair salon as I complained about how horrible it is to have a lovely husband who provides for me. Word would get out that I was letting my thoughts out of my little red-painted lips and I would be sent to a shrink who would tell me that my parents probably abused me as a child and I'm just crying for attention. But you know... at least I wouldn't have to make decisions for myself.

NYC

The Other New York

Alone

This is a lovely video I had saved a long time ago.
I forgot about it, and found it again today... what a nice surprise!

HEY!

"Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans."

John Lennon

just saying...

Book

That's it - I'm writing a book.
I've decided.

It's another one of those things that I keep in my head, swirling around and around, developing slowly, secretly and silently. I should know by now that SHARING ideas BREEDS ideas. Silly rabbit. I've decided that this hesitation to share my ideas is a fear of letting them out before they're fully formed. I've done this my whole life. I come up with something and I tuck it away, hoping to grow it in to something so worth sharing that all its recipients will be motionless with awe over my radiating brilliance. But I've realized two things over recent months of mind and soul exploration. One; people are just as impressed with your processes and ongoing, adventurous, soap opera-like pursuits as they are with any single stationary moment of completion. Two; the more you talk about it, the more it grows and becomes real.

I currently subscribe to the opinion that things in my head aren't real. They're just things in my head. In a day or two they'll move on out of an ear or an eye socket and be ideas of the past, forgotten. That, or they'll linger and haunt me with their lack of development. Once they come out of my tightly sealed lips, they are a thing in the WORLD. Other people know about it. They may even think about it again once you've gone. If they keep thinking about it, and bring it up again, you know it's good. Plus inspiration, when shared, can both inspire someone else and re-inspire you.

My favorite time for inspiration to hit me is when I'm at home, cozied up in my big woolly slippers with a cup of tea, my computer opened to a writing program and nothing but time on my side.

Unfortunately, inspiration has other plans for me. I always get hit when I'm at the gym sweating like a horse or in the shower, equally saturated, or in a busy public space with no pen or place to sit and think. I guess it's in those times that my mind has the freedom to go anywhere because I'm not focusing on some specific project or needing to carry on a conversation and appear to be involved.

So after all that, what is my book about?
I'm not telling.

Vntg

Not your average bride...

Risque?
(Warning, boobies enclosed)

Better

Pretty clothes make me happy at a disarming rate.

  

Mile

I've hit a milestone.
I've miles and miles and miles yet to go.

Over the past year of exploration (myself, my friends and the world), I've come to terms with the possibility that there IS a place for my creative space in the world. I've now finally convinced myself that is both possible and probably that with inspiration and hard work, anyone can make a decent go with their art.

I know this is a simple concept and that hundreds of thousands of people already know this but the feat is in believing it myself. Denial denial denial.

Okay, so I'm secure in the thought that I can be successful with my art. That obstacle has been crossed.
Now I just have to figure out WHAT my art is...

Reality

I just want to share this with everyone...
It's an excerpt from this book, which I find quite amusing. And I agree completely.

"Here's the thing - Carrie Bradshaw is a fu-, i mean, a dang... liar. Seriously, she lives in a chichi part of town in a great apartment and has forty thousand dollars' worth of shoes. She's forever out having drinks with her friends and she's not the kind of girl who goes to Dollar Beer Night at a seedy sports bar. She's all 'top shelf or don't bother, please.' Plus, every time a trendy restaurant opens? She's there, and you know they're the twenty-five-dollars-and-that's-just-a-dollop-of-goat-cheese-appetizer kind of places. She doesn't cook and buys all her meals out. She keeps sweaters in her oven, you know... She's a writer. And she has/does all this cool stuff and she's not drowning in credit card debt, nor does she, you know, shake it on the side for extra cash... Although really their lives make me a little crazy. You'd think sometimes they'd just want to stay in and eat Rasinettes and watch old episodes of Mystery Science Theater 3000 while tucked under a fluffy down comforter...The point is Carrie Bradshaw set highly unrealistic expectations."

And I, for one, can not be expected to live by them without going mental! (See previous post)
Time to start separating fantasy from reality and getting being our own role models!

Pride

The American Dream is a fear of success.  A fear that if you do not achieve the standard, you have failed.  In a world where anything is possible and you can be whoever you want to be, rags to riches and bottom to top with all that hard work; you forever face the pursuit of coming up short.

Look around yourself, your friends, collegues, teachers, idols.  You hold some up in high esteem and on their pedistle they stay, regardless of their flaws.  We watch as those on top live, and base our choices on becoming them, when really they have looked to someone else all along.

To base yourself on someone else is a sure path to not being good enough.
To base yourself on something new is a direct line to not fitting in.
American Dreams are wonderful things, and everyone should have their own.  But fresh new trails are assumed to be derailment from the norm and dreams, when based on others' pride, can only leave you stranded.

A path of your own, leaves you lost and when you find your way it's new. When there's nothing to which you compare yourself, there is only success in your own right. When no one can define you, you have achieved a dream of your own.  

More

I can't stop looking through these pictures!
Here are some more from this page.
I'm a little confused about who has taken these, I think they have been collected from other users.
Either way, they feel kind of like a dreamworld.

a.y.

LOVING this photography page...
It feels like a beautiful spring (even though it looks like fall)
These are from all different artists; go browse the page for more like these!

Paper

I'm not feeling very articulate so far this week, so I haven't much to say. 

But I found some wonderful art!

These are paper sculptures by Peter Callessen

Black

I'm still on swans.

If you've seen the movie, you might have asked yourself if you are the Black Swan or the White one.
That's totally the point too.  Everyone has a bit of both in them of course.

I think socially I am definitely possessed by the mischief and passions of the Black Swan.
The White one, however is written all over me in this search for my creative future.

Timidity and reserve definitely hold me back; and for what? It just prolongs my development.
Fear. That's what it is.  It's a fear of trying really hard and coming up short.  It's a fear of spending so much time trying so hard on something that might not pan out - and then running out of time entirely and never getting anywhere.  It's a fear of starting something new because it might turn in to one of the above.  And it's definitely a fear of trying to be someone I'm not.

Except that I am.  I just can't admit it to myself yet.

Swans

This is not a movie review...

Black Swan.
I just watched it for the 2nd time and felt the same as I did the first.
This is an amazing thing to me.
I'm not about to say that you should run out and see it; it's definitely not for everyone.

For me, it's not about the character development, the plot, the themes, the pretty costumes (though all these things are wonderful)... it's purely a reflection on the ability to write a captivating story. I feel incredible.

Dish

Thinking of summer makes me think of picnics and patio parties.
Here is my wishlist for this summer...

Them

Perception.

It's a very funny thing.  How you perceive yourself, and how you are perceived by others.
I'm fascinated with how different the two views can be...

It's always worth it to tell someone when you have a beautiful perception of them, or something they have done. It's far too often that we don't share these things with people, and how else will they ever know?!

It makes a world of difference in who they think they are, who they think you think they are, who they think the world thinks they think you think you are. Or they are. Plus a few more yous and theys. And all of the above.

Sun

It looks like summer outside and, even though I know it's  -10  out there, I'm looking at spring dresses.
I hope they bring as much joy to your life as they do mine!

Borrow

"Love can be found in many beautiful things, from the decorations in your home to leaves falling from trees, it's time to see everything for what it truly is, beautiful inspiration."


This is a line I found on someone else's blog. I just thought it was perfectly suited to my mood lately. I find art in small simple things. Art is love, love is art. It's that clear.


Thanks, Someone Else.

Bevar

A little photo tribute. 

Though there is no place like it where I now live, I wandered my new city today, reminiscing about this lost haven of mine.

I went to the neighbourhood which most closely represents the one in my heart, and took a few photos of things that made me feel like I was there. 

Dedicated to Amy, Lars, and all who share the loss of a wonderful island for misfit toys.

<3

Loss

Sometimes you find a place that embodies all that inspires you.  Somewhere you draw from and remember and fantasize about.  Today I lost a little bit of that place.

It's hard to say goodbye to a concept, a moment, a culture, a feeling.  It's especially hard when you know that place is just as and even much more important to thousands of other people.  That just because one small group of different people don't want this place and have the authority to change it, that is the course that is taken.  No consideration for heritage, sense of identity, the character of the community around it.  It is truly a tragedy.

I am writing about this because it goes along with all my posts so far; about discovering one's artistic heart, learning to express oneself creatively and finding that source inside from where your art derives.  I think these things are very strongly rooted in places. Places you find where you can let that side of you flourish, where it is encouraged and celebrated. It could be a school or a classroom, a studio, a park, a house, an entire city or a bum hollow on your couch.  But wherever it is, it will hold a place in your heart forever.  It is the place where you feel your creativity. You feel it, conceiving itself in your brain waves and flowing through your nerves into all your appendages. You feel it coming from your skin and through your breath.

This is a place shared by countless artists, in all forms (visual, musical, theatrical, conceptual, spiritual, et al) where creativity not only thrives, but it is the driving force behind the entire community. How many places on earth can there be like this? The whole Western world that I know is build on mathematical infrastructure. A world of left-brained learners with practical, academic jobs at the top of the list, and organic, free-flowing creation on a distant, even overlooked lower rung.

Schools are dropping extracurricular projects and cutting arts classes, drama and music. Municipal governments are continually cutting funding for cultural programs, museums and galleries. Every year there seems to be less and less allowance for culture and creativity.  I find it so challenging to discover my artistic potential, even having had all these things at my disposal.  As I watch them slowly disappear, I watch potential for artistic greatness and beauty disappear also.  Where are my children's children's children going to find their creative home?

Oohs

Here are some things that make me go "ooh"...

Grow

When I was in the 8th grade, our class was given a career-planning survey.  Each student answered a questionnaire which sought to define your ideal work environment and, thus, best career choice.  I took my test very seriously.  I considered each question with real intent.  I pondered and weighed my choices, reflected on how well they really represented my identity and what was in my heart.  It took me a long time to complete that little booklet.  When I was done, I read it over and over, making sure I was absolutely happy with my decisions.

Our packages were sent away and returned to us a week later. Each student got an envelope. Sealed inside was the explanation of our ideal career, our professional future; just handed to us, simple as that.  Folded quietly inside that envelope was the potential for me to realize my dreams before I even thought of them myself.  I opened mine excitedly, anxious to see what wonderful, creative, artistically genius possibilities awaited me.

Chimney Sweep.
I got... chimney sweep.

I remember staring at my paper for a long time before I made any kind of reaction. How did my quiz answers lead to this?  I tried to remember the questions; stuff about liking the outdoors, not worried about getting dirty, meeting new people every day, being independent, an ever-changing workplace.  Yes, they do indeed all point to chimney sweep.  But is that really the only thing they point to?  Did chimney sweeping even survive as an industry past the 1900s? Is this what my heart's desires really lead to?

I do realize now that it was some company's arbitrary list of professions attached to a computer rendering program. I meditate on this memory a lot though and think about how limited a school curriculum can be for artistically inclined students.

Growing up as a right-brainer in a left-brained household, school and community, I literally didn't know creative professions were an option until midway through High School. At that point, I probably should have just rebelled and gone crazy, started dressing like Cyndi Lauper, speaking in tongues and doing whatever my little big brain thought up without regard for social acceptance.  Unfortunately, as previously whined, I had a habit of taking myself way too seriously.

Now I get to struggle with my bohemian "coming of age", enlightened starving artist stint at a time when I should be working a 9 to 5 and contributing to a retirement fund.

No negativity here though. Just excitement. And maybe a little bit of resentment for chimney sweeps.

Snap

Pieces

I've always been a creative thinker. My mind has always been a chaotic mess of great ideas.

Somehow in High School and University while everyone was messing around and "discovering themselves", I was taking myself way too seriously and not getting anywhere.

I haven't trained myself to let that creativity flow the way it has the potential to do. Actually, I suppose it's a lack of training I need; an un-training, to stop trying to fit my ideas into a practical mold. Creativity isn't practical. It would be silly if it was.

Over the last year, since I've been on my own, I've been working really hard at listening to all the silly voices in my head and using them to create things.

The problem is, there are so many of them, it's hard to hear one over the other. I focus on one idea for a few minutes, hours, days, sometimes weeks.. and I work really hard at it. Then another voice up there becomes louder than the one I've been listening to, and takes over. Suddenly I'm on another project, in another discipline, from another world.

What I've learned recently, is that it's all part of the process. Instead of looking at unfinished projects as failures or laziness or lack of motivation, I have started to look at them as small discoveries. Little clues along a path that may lead to something amazing or nothing at all - but I'm learning all the while.

It's a liberating thought, and it's hard to stick to. I'm constantly anxious about where I am going and how I'll make this trivial thing (a painting, a photo, a story, a song), into some kind of a socially acceptable success.

This is a constant struggle. Success is so relative, I know that.
But taking myself too seriously is ingrained in my head; it's the loudest voice of all.

Once

Blog attempt No. 3
Technology and the universe of web tools don't exactly agree with me.

Anyway, here lies my open brain, waiting for creative thoughts to pour out onto the keyboard and into the Internet.

I am not a writer, nor a painter, nor photographer or musician but I do all of these things.
I don't share them with the world for no good reason and I think it's time to start.
Maybe some day I will choose one as my title or, GASP... profession.