So what is it I'm waiting for?

This article, "No Sense in Waiting," has been spinning around in my brain since I first saw it earlier today.

This boy has done more with sixty square feet than I've done with anything lately.

There is no sense in waiting, and if you don't, then there are no limitations. You just have to figure out what it is you want, and make it happen, no matter how big or small.

So now all I have to do is figure out what it is I actually want.

Dance-y brain

Today I'm feeling inspired.

I ate leftover potato-leek soup that I made on Wednesday. I've been cooking more lately, because I like cooking, and I've had the time, being unemployed, and it's cheaper than eating out too much. So I've been trying to cook more and more. The soup came out wonderfully. It's good with toast. I'll have to make it again sometime.

I'm trying to drink more water. I never drink enough, and I've tried and tried to drink more. Maybe one day I'll get myself in the habit. I am a work in progress.

I've been reading lots of blogs. Especially this one called A Beautiful Mess. I love her stuff, and it's hard not to get inspired by her blog posts. One of them, in fact, is the reason I started on a wee little painting yesterday (remember when I talked about those? I'm still at it), and I'm letting my brain dance around and bubble up with more ideas for those. I'm letting my brain dance around with all sorts of things. This is the reason I think I'll go to the art store soon. I want some paint markers. Being a writer, a lot of my art ideas encompass words and type and wordplay, and I don't yet trust my hand at doing lettering with a paintbrush. I'll keep experimenting and practicing with a brush, but in the meantime, paint markers sound like a good investment.

Which is why it's a good thing that I have a temp position lined up for Monday. Yay for income! It won't be much, since it's only a one day thing, but I'll take it! And in the meantime, I'm still putting myself out there and trying to find a good job. Fingers still crossed.

Especially if it'll allow me to do more of these inspired types of things I want to do. It's been good for me, trying to do as much as I can with as little as possible, but eventually a girl's gotta get her some paint markers.

8.75 square inches of creative inspiration

My mom is a painter. She makes a living painting fancy things in people's houses. Right now, she's doing some work for a woman with a very young son, and she wanted some paintings to hang in his bedroom. I am helping with this, since I minored in art for a few semesters in college (before changing to dance), and I don't think my mom has ever stretched canvas before. I secretly love stretching canvas.

While I was at the art supply store yesterday, I saw these wee little canvasses for sale. The smallest ones weren't even as big as a matchbox. I immediately wanted some. But I didn't buy any.

Until today. I now have ten wee little canvasses waiting for me to paint wee little paintings on them. I have a few vague ideas, maybe painting little cartoony animals, or symbols, or crazy little messages, but no real plans for them yet. I can't wait to see how they'll turn out.

Bloglove, with a hint of encouragement

Saturday slipped past me, and I felt a wee bit guilty for not doing a booklove update (although not as guilty as I feel for not having any other kinds of posts for what has now becomes weeks, instead of just days). And then I was sick most of the day Sunday, so I didn't care that it was slipping past me.

Suddenly it's Tuesday, and I'm beginning to pay more attention to what a lazy blogger I've been lately. Especially if I ever want this blog to be anything special, which I do. I have all these ideas and visions for what I want it to be. It's far from there yet. But I'm working on it. Slowly.

Anyway.

The knitting has been going fabulously lately, what with finishing the aforementioned first sweater and finally getting to cast on new things. I'm working on another sweater, which is almost done. It's much thicker yarn, on much bigger needles, and it's a much smaller sweater, so it has flown past. I wanted to try to finish it tonight, but the summer weather has thwarted me. It's just a wee bit too warm and humid to be knitting with thick, squishy wool. So I shall wait until it cools off some. So in the meantime, I blog. And oogle other people's blogs.

This new one that I love, I found through a fellow knitter's profile page on Ravelry. It's owl in the dark, and she's a knitter and singer (maybe not necessarily in that order, though). I actually already had one of her patterns in my favorites from some time ago, but just now made my way over to her project page. Her stuff (and her blog, with her lovely cats and music) makes me feel all girly and ruffly, which is pretty unlike me, so that's saying something. She seems like something out of fairy tale.

Which is enormously encouraging to me. I like knowing that it is possible in this world to build a life that is full of whimsy and little bits of wonderful. Because that is pretty much all I want from this life. To fill it with all the little bits of wonderful and extraordinariness that I can get my hands on. As someone who is stuck in the 9 to 5 life and only pursuing the things I love in my spare time, for the time being, I'm constantly reminding myself that it doesn't just have to be this way, and that it won't always be this way. I just have to keep working to make sure of it. That's all.

Ups and downs and April's finally over

Part of me keeps shouting inside that the reason I haven't posted lately is because April sucked.

But then that quieter, calmer part of me points out that April really didn't suck. Big parts of it were hugely, fantastically great. But just the last bit of April sucked, and it ruined the rest for me.

I got in a car accident last week (I'm ok), and I just dropped off my car at the body shop, so I am feeling depressed and cut off from the independence I'm used to. For the next ten days or so. It's exhausting just to think about the dance I'll have to do to deal with it, and all the other things I need to get done.

The ironic thing is that in the face of all that, otherwise I've been feeling really good. Reading and writing more, and knitting less, which I'm surprisingly ok with. Maybe the obsession is waning into a beloved hobby that I can stand to put down from time to time. Also, I've been doing lots of thinking and planning about what I want to actually do with my life. I'm feeling like I'm ready to start moving myself in some discernible direction, which is a truly refreshing feeling, after mostly doing nothing for a year (aside from that pesky day job, of course).

So I'm on the brink of finishing my forty-somethingth journal (honestly, I lost count awhile back. For all I know, I might be in the fifties by now), which always makes me feel good. Anticipation has always been one of my favorite things to feel. That's the real reason I love Christmas and birthday. It's the buildup, not the presents. So all those clean, white pages waiting to be filled give me a little thrill, and always have, and always will.

And two of the books I ordered when I got my tax return have arrived, just in time to make it that much harder to decide what I'll read next. Naturally. Such is my life. Earlier today, on my lunch break, I finished reading The Salmon of Doubt, which was wonderful, every bit of it.

I think my favorite part of the whole book was in his interview with the Onion, when he said "I think the idea of art kills creativity." I was thinking about that a lot this weekend. Boy-Creature and I went to New Orleans to visit my family and go to Jazz Fest. It was on my mind all weekend while I was wandering around booths filled with art and listening to these icons of music, all of them just doing what they do. I can't imagine that they think of it as this titanic, heavy, important thing that is required of their genius. It's just a thing they do. And it all becomes so much easier when you think of it that way. I've spent so much of the last year getting in my own way, and I want to stop. Just be creative instead of worrying about art. Just do stuff without thinking about it.

The other kind of post

Every now and then we get these slow periods at work where the three of us in my little group completely run out of work to do. Today was one of those days, and it's starting to seem like the whole week will be like that. So I was pretty languorous with my break this afternoon. Not that I'm ever in a rush to get back to it.

I called my mama (Hi Mama), and I'd mentioned that I went to the post office on my lunch break. She got all excited and wanted to know what sort of exciting things I was mailing. They weren't that exciting, but still. There's a reason Griffin and Sabine is one of my favorite books. Real mail is fun.

I read Nick Bantock's memoirs once (The Artful Dodger. It's really good, if you like his books), and the part where he talked about getting the idea for those books is one of the parts that stuck with me the most. He said something about how he was at the post office one day, and a woman in front of him had fantastic-looking mail, and it got him thinking about what sort of mail he'd love to get. He said something also about how you have to send good mail to get good mail.

I like sending mail. I've got this nice stockpile going of stationery and notecards, and really good pens, and I even have some sealing wax. Every now and then I'll send someone a letter, just for fun (tonight I'll be writing one to Mama, since she asked for one). But I never seem to keep it up. It'll be one or two, and then that's it for awhile. Sometimes I think that maybe if I had the right person to write to, I'd keep it up. But how often do a George Bernard Shaw and a Mrs. Patrick Campbell find each other?

Loosening my stiff muscles

I started at a new yoga studio today. I found a postcard for them in a coffee house months ago. Actually, I think it was the night I dropped off our application for this apartment. My first taste of the neighborhood. I always meant to go check out the place, because they have this deal where you get ten days of yoga for twenty dollars. And that is what I now have. Today was day one, so for the next nine days, I get as much yoga as I can stand!

It's very exciting.

Tonight's class was pretty basic. More a moving meditation than real yoga, like I'm used to. I've done more ashtanga than anything, so I like things a little more dynamic. But given that I haven't done much of anything physical in almost eight months, starting slow was probably a good idea. I'll be that much less sore tomorrow. But anyway, it started out with the teacher asking us to focus on our intention, maybe on our resolutions, if we made any. Not that I had much focus. I'm a little rusty on that part of the yoga process. I spent most of the class telling myself "Stop thinking about the job! Stop thinking about your knitting! Stop thinking about the blog!"

I didn't technically make a resolution. The things I want for this year feel too big and vague to fit into a little to-do list for the year. I just want to be better, and try harder. That's a big part of why I was at the yoga studio in the first place. Ten days for twenty dollars is hard to resist, and it nearly guarantees me getting out of the apartment for ten days straight. Maybe even enough to build a habit of it. Get me out of the apartment more and more, hopefully. Maybe I'll hit the jackpot and make a friend, too.

Because I have to admit, I haven't tried very hard yet. I've spent too many nights in the last six months sitting at home, watching movies and knitting. And that's pretty much it. And that has to stop. So my plan, for now, is to do yoga for ten days, and then we'll see. Dance classes, circus classes, more yoga. I'll find something good. And then something even better. And it'll all just get better and better.

The teacher ended the class by saying that she hopes our dreams for this year do come true. Hoky as it may sound, I hope so too.

A little bit bah humbug

Tonight I watched "Practical Magic" and "Imagine Me and You" and missed my family so much it was hard to breathe. I also worked on knitting my blue angel sweater and loaded software on the shiny new macbook, but I'm a multitasker.

Practical Magic is my favorite book. I don't even know how many times I've read it. Sally's my favorite in the book, I suppose because I think I'm the most like her. But the Aunts are my favorite in the movie. I like how unapologetically they live. My favorite line in the whole movie is when Aunt Frances says "My darling girl, when are you going to realize that being normal is not always a virtue. It rather denotes a lack of courage." That's what I want. To live courageously. I've worked in offices for almost seven years now, and I already know at the tender age of twenty two that I want to get as far from the 9 to 5 cubicle life as I can. Hopefully before too much longer, I'll be able to. Even if it's just flogging my guts out in a bookstore somewhere. I'd even be happy with Borders or Barnes and Noble instead of a cool independent store. As long as I'm surrounded by books, I'll be happy.

I've been thinking a lot about little ways to work in living artfully around the stupid cubicle job. Like dance classes. And circus classes. I was looking at nearby circus studios in the area earlier tonight. Thinking about what I might like to do next. The thing is, I don't want more hobbies. I want things to build my life around, and that includes a career. I used to joke to Dad about dropping out of college and going to circus school instead, and he always seemed to like that idea. I think a big part of it is that he liked the idea of me being in Sarasota. I still think he had some secret wish that I would go to Florida and be a Gator like he was. But sometimes I wonder if I should have done it, if I could have done it.

Just run away and join the circus, like everyone else secretly dreams of doing but never really considers seriously.

Those are the worst kind of dreams. The ones that get dropped without a second thought, just because they don't fit at first glance. But I want to fill my life with them. I want that kind of life that makes people say "How can you make a living doing that? That's not a real job." I never wanted a real job. I picked my major and minor, and my school even, specifically to avoid anything too real. But reality has made its way, so it's up to me to shove it back in the box.

One circus class and short story at a time.