Archive for Thoughts
Just Doing It
I’ve been in a pit of despair for months, unable to create. Some of what is happening with me can be found at my Weighting blog.
I am ready to create again. I finally decided I need to use my writing and art therapy rather than hold it in and let it rot.
Without explination as to why, I am going to leave you with two things today, a definition and a video link (with lyrics). The two aren’t related, except that they both have meaning to me in the past few months. To see the video with her in it go to the link below.
Comfortable as I am
I need your reassurance
And comfortable as you are
You count the days
But if I wanted silence
I would whisper
And if I wanted loneliness
I’d choose to go
And if I liked rejection
I’d audition
And if I didn’t love you
You would know
And why can’t you just hold me
And how come it is so hard
And do you like to see me broken
And why do I still care
still care
You say you see the light now
At the end of this narrow hall
I wish it didn’t matter
I wish I didn’t give you all
But if I wanted silence
I would whisper
And if I wanted loneliness
I’d choose to go
And if I liked rejection
I’d audition
And if I didn’t love you
You would know
And why can’t you just hold me
And how come it is so hard
And do you like to see me broken
And why do I still care
Poor little misunderstood baby
No one likes a sad face
But I can’t remember life without him
I think I did have good days
I think I did have good days
And why(why) can’t you just hold me
And how come it is so hard
And do you like to see me broken
And why do I still care
***
From Wikipedia – Crocodile Tears
Crocodile tears are a false or insincere display of emotion such as a hypocrite crying fake tears of grief. The expression comes from an ancient anecdote that crocodiles weep in order to lure their prey, or that they cry for the victims they are eating. This tale was first spread widely in English in the stories of the travels of Sir John Mandeville in the 14th century.[1]
| “ | In that country and by all Inde be great plenty of cockodrills, that is a manner of a long serpent, as I have said before. And in the night they dwell in the water, and on the day upon the land, in rocks and in caves. And they eat no meat in all the winter, but they lie as in a dream, as do the serpents. These serpents slay men, and they eat them weeping; and when they eat they move the over jaw, and not the nether jaw, and they have no tongue. | ” |
An alternate explanation for the expression’s origin is that crocodile tears cannot be authentic because crocodiles cannot cry; they lack tear ducts. Yet this is a myth: Crocodiles possess lacrimal glands which secrete a proteinaceous fluid, just like in humans, though tears will only be visible after a crocodile is out of the water for a prolonged period of time, and the eyes begin to dry out. However, while crocodiles can and do generate tears, they do not actually cry.[2]
One prominent use of the expression is by Shakespeare in Othello Act IV, Scene i
I have to say, that Maria Mena reminds me of my oldest daughter and myself (a much younger thinner myself) – her lips and pouty face, just the whole video reminds me of a very specfic time in my life.
Under My Umbrella
When Jade got into the car this morning she realized she’d forgotten her umbrella. I said, “I wanted to remind you about it, but I felt I’d reached my reminder limit with you.” At 15 she doesn’t like to be reminded not to forget things. Then, she sometimes says, “Why didn’t you remind me?” This particular feature of my little angel is something that must be genetic, because her daddy is the same way. She said, “I hope Courtney didn’t spend too much time on her hair.” This perplexed me since Courtney was not in our vehicle and nor did she even ride the bus home with Jade. It turns out that Jade shares her umbrella before a certain class in which she has a trek from the school to the outside classroom. I say “outside classroom” but they are trailers. I know there probably isn’t a school in America these days that doesn’t have one. Anyway, I thought that was sweet. I imagined her holding the umbrella as she and Courtney walked together to class.
I’m slightly miserable today. Each time I cycle I think it can’t be worse the next time, but sometimes it’s worse. Heating pads and ibuprofen – the badges of a real woman. Oh, and don’t forget the chocolate. I’ve already be-headed a darling dark chocolate Dove bunny. Will also got me these adorable bug truffles. Aren’t they just the cutest?
The bugs actually had little molded faces, which was a kind of neat surprise. They also had little crispy bits inside and it made me wonder if Lindt did that on purpose for a nice light buggy crunch? HAHA!
I am playing Chocolat in the DVD player. It’s in the other room, but turned up so I can hear it. Sometimes it’s too quiet and I am not in the mood for music, but rather just voices. Chocolat has today’s bloggy themes of chocolate and gypsies, which makes it a perfect choice. When it is over, perhaps I will listen to the disks from my “Enchanted” collection I got for my birthday.
I am wishing for sunshine. It’s been raining so much here.
I often wonder about moving to Florida, Georgia, South Carolina, New Mexico, Arizona or California. They seem like mostly sunny places with artsy towns here and there. I wonder.
I am wishing for a big tree in the back yard where Will could build his treehouse.
And I’d cherish a pond with a koi. Or, I’d settle for goldfish.
I suppose I should find more delights in what I already have. Indulge in the sumptuousness around me, yes? Well, sometimes with the dog holes gaping at me in the back yard and the pile that needs to go to the dump on the side of the house and the evidence of my woeful gardening abilities are so glaring, they are hard to ignore. So, yes, I find my dainty pleasures where I may, but there is still much to fix and do that sometimes can be a joy suck.
Day before yesterday I lay on the hammock, my head hanging off of the side and marveled at the brilliant clear blue of the shameless sky. It made the perfect backdrop for something I had not even noticed the day before – buds on the trees. The trees beyond the rusty chain-link fence. Oh, if I could only learn to love chain-link. But in my upside down position I could hardly see the chain-link and only the peachy-yellow buds asserting themselves on the branch tips against the backdrop of that crystalline sky. Here is a photo of what I saw. I wish you could have been here – it was lovely.
Other wishes: I am wishing for a lovely gypsy tent in the yard as soon as the weather is dry and balmy for two days in a row, and since I will not soon have my dreamy vardo.
Yes, I still have vardo dreams – in fact, they have spawned a new artsy idea. Though some of my research makes the concept seem overly daunting, I can’t help but be optimistic. With some help from Willo (that is the dreamy name I will call him when I speak of art and gypsies) I think it won’t be too technically overwhelming. All of those things will have to wait though, until the Body Politics installation is, well, installed at Artomatic.
Also, the Baltimore Playwright Festival is looming. Gotta clean up Delia and get her submitted. I might submit my short diner play too. We’ll see.
Look at this band of gypsies, they need a little spot to relax, wouldn’t you say?
Cry Baby
I watched this video – which also happens to be a T-Mobile commercial…and cried.
There is something about it that makes me get choked up.
The last couple of days I’ve been shedding a lot of tears. You can blame it on “Aunt Flow” if you want, but it’s more than that.
I feel alive with ideas, yet burdened by them at the same time. How can I possibly make this body do that many things?
I am inspired with all the talented people out there. Each blog I visit lets me peek into another magical world. I actually found this video on a blog that had me crackling with inspiration already.
It all started with me just looking at various blog layouts – but that is dangerous work for me. When I like the layout, I linger. When I linger I get distracted from the task at hand.
Some days I have to simply walk away from the computer, even though some of my art lies there. Some of my undone tasks are dangling there. But, it’s good for me to step away and focus on another aspect of work at times. Today, I am cleaning the studio up. Yes, it was recently cleaned, quite well I might add, but it’s a tad messy now. Nothing like before – before it wasn’t even organized, right now it’s just needing a tidy-up. So that will be my chore for the day. To tidy, so I may then get some work completed.
The level to which I have been distracted by tangential indulgences this past week are unsurpassed so far this year. I have been wholly indulgent in my path meanderings. Facebook also encourages such behavior to a degree at which might be frightening if I had to actually leave my home for a daily job. Yesterday I was totally obsessed with finding out if I could buy local eggs that looked like the eggs I had gotten from a particular farm a couple of years ago and much like an entry here on Maya*Made. Of course, it being Sunday and a holiday to boot, I couldn’t find out squat. So, today I made did a little research and made a phone call and later this week I’ll hopefully have some lovely, colorful and local eggs.
Currently I am preparing Body Politics for Artomatic. That will be keeping me occupied for weeks to come. After Artomatic opens, I will be ready for more indulgent artful activities. I’ve come up with several ideas that I’m excited to get started on right away, so maybe I will get started on them in small ways – to have some works-in-progress that I can come back to and finish.
One thing is for certain – I am very glad to be past many of my self-improvement techniques and exercises and onto who I am. I know who I am. I have worked past many obstacles and have arrived at my creative place. And even in times of uncertainty and when despair rears its ugly head from time to time, I have great sources of support that I have cultivated. Great friends. Great family. Great loves. I hope I can always be as wonderful and supportive as my friends have been to me.
Clever Girl
I want to be so obviously clever that somebody will call me “clever girl.” It always sounds better with a British accent, too. So, it would be extra special if somebody British said it to me.
I am bubbling with ideas right now. Too many to make happen. It’s frustrating having only this one body and two arms and ten fingers to get all of my ideas out with. There are so many things to create, I can hardly finish one before I’ve begun another.
I love clay.
I love paint.
I love words.
I love love.
There is so much to absorb. There is so much to care about. Don’t you just have to turn parts off sometimes, just to quiet everything long enough to focus? How can I ever get one thing all the way done if I am constantly interrupted by myself? I have managed to knock out a number of things the past two weeks. Some medical tests, lots of photos processed, blogs I’d been meaning to write. Each one is a stone I’ve removed from the bag I’m dragging behind me. They are a burden, but they are also pretty and shiny and cool. They are only a burden because I want so badly to share these things. Then as each idea fires, it sets off sparks and new ones ignite. I write down the ones I don’t have time for now, so I have them for later, when the idea well is a bit drier.
You are so beautiful to me…
Did you ever know somebody who seems to have no idea how wonderful they are?
This world we grow up in, it’s a strange place isn’t it?
Some people don’t understand that their light is what helps make the world a little less dark and desperate.
How can they not know this? How can you shine so bright and brilliant and not know it?
I think sometimes we don’t believe in our own superpowers. Superman could fly all along, he just didn’t know it. When he understood his power, well, he was virtually unstoppable.
I wish those beautiful lights out there knew how much they do to make the world a brighter and better place and how they shine that light down a path for us.
You really don’t know how amazing you are, do you?
Through the lens of closer friendship flaws are sometimes revealed
As we get closer to people, just as we get closer to anything else, they can see our flaws and cracks. I think all relationships are like that, with friends and with lovers.
From a distance, many people can look like the kind of person you want to know and get closer to. It’s easier to be blinded by charm and poise or by humor and good energy when you don’t know a person very well.
Many things happen as relationships progress. We might, for instance, get all mooney over a guy and in the blush of those first months of a relationship you are more focused on the wonderful things about that person. As time wears on, however, the cracks start to show a bit.
So what do you do?
Well, nobody is perfect. Anybody that seems perfect is probably just hiding A LOT of things.
(Good lord, Jade left the tv on VH1 this morning and I swear this is the THIRD time I’ve heard that Alica Keys song already today – and the VIDEO IS AWFUL).
To me, knowing a person’s flaws, knowing that they allow themselves to be vulnerable around me, is a treasure.
The coiled snake of curiosity…sex and sexiness are not the same
I was watching Henry and June the other night, which is a story written by Anais Nin. I didn’t know anything about her relationship with Henry (Tropic of Cancer)and June Miller (link to a good book review of Henry and June). It was very interesting. While watching the movie I felt a great resonance with Anais (pronounced Ann-AYE-eese) and her wide-eyed view of the world, taking it all in. Experiencing people, experiencing love and sex and life. At some point during the movie Will made the comment that Anais seemed to beirresistibly attracted to the very flawed. In fact, one thing I found interesting was that the woman who was Henry’s wife – June – caused both of these writers to be so taken by her that they both wrote about her, in different ways.
I know how it feels when all of your senses are delighted at every new experience. Sexual energy surging and curiosity lies coiled, tense, ready to spring forth even as you try to keep it tame.
I have always been attracted to both men and women. The funny thing about this is that often people confuse being attracted to both men and women means you are attracted to EVERY man and EVERY woman. It’s like guys who hear another guy is gay and suddenly he’s sexually interested in everybody that is male. I’m not saying there aren’t maybe people like that, I’m just saying that’s not my experience. I notice obvious physical beauty in various forms. I, however, am attracted to people based on many different things. Sometimes it is merely their extreme attraction to me that might cause me to be attracted to them. Sometimes it’s chemicals and energy and things beyond my explanation.
The freedom to allow yourself to be attracted to people in itself is a wonderful thing. It doesn’t always have to be sexual even, at least not in the way you are used to thinking of it in a music video or fairytale. It’s got more to do with allowing yourself the freedom to be turned on in many ways.
You see, I am an integrated person and therefore some parts of me overlap. Some people can only think of sex and sexiness in very narrow terms. What “gets them off” is a controlled definition they have decided or were nurtured or imprinted early on and they don’t think of it beyond that.
When I sayI am attracted to women, some people think that means that any woman I meet is a potential sexual partner, like when somebody is dating and all people are potential lovers.For me nothing could be further from the truth. It only means that I don’t limit myself to only men if a woman who happens to interest me or is interested in me comes along. It’s about not settling for a definition of what I’m supposed to be “allowed” to do.
People like Anais, June and Henry allowed themselves freedoms some people do not allow. Some people find comfort in limits and I can respect that. Some people find threat in other people exploring their freedoms and I think that is small and even a bit sad.
We are here, on this planet to live, love, eat, breathe. Shouldn’t we honor what we have been given by being good to each other and to ourselves and honor our own spirit and in that action we will honor others as well.
Married Virgins Who Stay That Way
When I got my copy of A Lifetime of Secrets one of the secrets did stand out a bit and made me scratch my head too.
Today I was reading Postsecrets and somebody made a note about the one that stood out to me:
—–Email Message—–
Sent: Saturday, November 24, 2007 1:51 PM
Subject: Married virgins
Hi Frank,
A Lifetime of Secrets arrived in the post today. One of the secrets was: “I’m in a wonderful, loving marriage and we are still virgins and that’s okay with me. ”
I wanted to say to the secret-writer: Me too! My husband and I have been married for eighteen months and we couldn’t be happier! And we know two other couples in the same sort of relationships. We’re all friends and happy for one another. We know that just because we don’t do the mattress rodeo it doesn’t mean our relationships are any less valid than anyone else’s.
Victoria Glancetts (it’s cool to print my name)
****
I am totally mystified that anybody would consider getting married in the first place when they don’t have sexual energy. I’m not judging though – I mean, they’re happy and seem content. I do wonder the REASONS they choose to not have sex and stay virgins.
What if one of them meets the person who does make all of there wiring and electricity snap to life? Then what? I wonder if it would be okay for the other person to explore that if one of them chooses to stay a virgin.
Very curious indeed.
The Artist Writer or the Writer Artist
I have been struggling with the direction I should take these days.
My writing career has been more lucrative and satisfying than my art career in recent months, so I have been thinking hard and out loud about that.
While I love what I can say with art, with few words, and while I can never imagine not doing art I think that writing might be where my energy is primarily spent.
I miss, more than my early art, the early days of my old blog – The Goddess Chronicles of Heather Bartlett.
Sometimes I moor myself to an idea and I jump in – like deciding to work hard at making a success out of my art. I got this domain heatherbartlettart – I designed a new site, which I love the design of but it somehow still doesn’t feel like home. Ya know?
That site used to be at a different domain and when we changed to new servers it got moved too – and lots of stuff in it is broken and will take a loooooong time to fix if I were ever to decide to fix it. Besides, I had decided it was time for a change and decided to move on from that site – now that I made that change I feel like I’m supposed to “stick to it.”
Well why should I?
Things change. I change. We all change…well, not all, but anybody who wants to continue to grow does, I suppose.
Sometimes it makes me kind of sad to see The Goddess Chronicles sitting there, the basic design it was moved to and the broken images and links – but I can fix it if I want to put in the hours and hours of work it will take.
Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. But whatever I choose, I will choose it because it’s what I decide I want.
I think even these days sometimes I do things out of a sense of duty even if they make me really stressed and when I step back and look at it, I realize I don’t have to do it at all or I can change what I’m doing and adapt.
At the same time I don’t want to be flaky and I do want to do real, not imagined, duties properly – even when I hate doing them. I have however discovered that some of the things that are stressful or make me unhappy are often just victims of the way I am looking at or reacting to a situation.
Interesting.
A Long Winter Ahead
Storm clouds gather over this sunny sky
your secrets like towers and whisps of gray
hiding what you won’t share
and taking my trust away
It didn’t erode so slowly, if you will remember, you managed to wipe it out quite easily.
It might have been reasoned in your mind…
We can all reason something if we want to – it’s called denial…
Where was your chivalry then, I wondered, when lies fell like snow
soft and cold andto a constant gray winter in my heart.
Just as the first flower of hope begins to assert its sweet bud from the frost
the cold wind blows again
and it snows again
and it snows.
It has a numbing effect, to be covered in the cold that way.
I don’t suppose it matters anymore.
You try to melt the cold with your anger. At me?
It is your protection from your own long winter ahead.
You only have yourself to blame – I didn’t do this.
I am worthy of your effort to change it.
What is stupid is how it could have been fun.
To joke and talk about it.
To smile at your attractions and desires and share in them with you.
You made it impossible to do that with your snow.
Always with the damned snow…
An admirer from Belgium