After being in a terrible creative slump for the past few weeks, I finally feel like I'm bouncing back. I took a look through the last embroidery book I got and was like, "Omg, have to make this, NOW" instead of being all like, "I should probably do something with that at some point... Maybe." And all of this started because of an antique doll's eye.
First off, let me explain that I don't have some kind of weird obsession with eyeballs. While eyes are in fact the windows to the soul, and some eyes can be remarkably pretty, I've never collected them. To each their own, but that's a little weird. I was walking home today when I went into this cute little craft store about a block over and down from where I live. I've been in there several times and thought it might be nice to browse their selection of supplies and books once again.
Right in front of the register, there's some little bowls of tiny glass jars, itty bitty plastic charms, pencils, and some other fairly small crafty items. One little bowl was filled with small antique doll eyes. At first, I was taken aback and kind of horrified. You mean there's dozens of old dolls out there with one or both eyes pried out? Sounds like the making of a bad horror movie. The more I looked through them, however, the more I realized the creative potential. I picked up one in good condition with a swirly blue iris.
And then it hit me. Put it on a black triangle of clay, maybe add a border, bake, then apply varnish. Bam, instant necklace. It's hard to explain, but weeks of being troubled by the amount of unused craft stuff lying around my bedroom began to dissolve. All by one little idea.
This may seem unrelated, but lately, my dear stepmom and I had a wonderful talk. She's so very intelligent about pretty much everything in general and I most definitely trust her advice. One of the pieces of advice she gave me was "tread lightly." While I understood what she meant, I never thought it could be applied to the things I make and the process involved. Tread lightly, start small, start slow. Even if you were once way up high and now you're scraping the bottom of the barrel, tread lightly and build it back up. You'll get back to the top. You'll get there and it'll be okay.
As many of you could probably tell, I was in a funk there for a while. I've always thought of creative ability (and other parts of life) as a plant, and if you don't feed and water it, it'll wither and eventually die. That thought hurt me. Instead of lamenting about it, I'm going to try to concentrate on the good part, which is that I am at least experiencing the normal ups and downs of life. Some people cannot and that's unfortunate. Some people can't tell the difference between the ups and the downs and for some there's no such thing as "up."
My advice to you is to start small. Make that weird necklace. Try that new cookie recipe and make a tiny batch just for your best friend. Be as slow as you want with things. Let your ideas percolate as long as you darn well please and then let them explode out like a jewelweed plant. Or slither out slowly like a funny little snake. Rejoice in and celebrate your ups and realize that the downs will end. Most of all, tread lightly, and remember that you are loved.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Thursday, July 26, 2012
The Not-So-Good Bits
I've been putting off writing this post for a while now, mainly because people don't like to blog about the darker times of their lives. Or maybe they do, if they're into that kind if thing. Admittedly, I'm not, but this blog is for posting about my life and all of its ups and downs, not just when I have good things to talk about.
The past two and a half years have been rough to say the least. I was going to describe them as being "a nightmare of the most fantastic kind," but there's been good points. Times when I've felt like somebody, more than a pale shell that can magically talk and make food. Times when I actually possessed some creative ability and felt feelings like I used to.
Creatively, I'm dead, or very close to it. I no longer derive any kind of inspiration or initiative from anything, or so it seems. This is disturbing. I make stuff because it's what I do, and I can't. No amount of artistic coaching can seem to lance the horrific boil that's holding back all of my ideas and creativity. I supposed that line was pretty creative, but it's been in my head for quite a long time now, so it doesn't count. People tell me to just do this or just do that. It's like watering a dead plant; nothing's coming back. It's sad seeing the heaps of polymer clay on my desk. I've tried my best for almost two months now to make something, and all that's come from it is a little pendant with rainbow flowers on it. And it gets uglier the more I look at it.
My surroundings for the most part have not been, as Carl Sagan would put it, benign or malevolent. Merely indifferent. I don't know how much of that statement is true, seeing that the weather's been nice. People in public are nice. My employers, coworkers, and customers are always telling me what a good job I'm going, despite the fact I feel like an out-of-place, quiet little mouse. I trust their judgement more than I trust my own, however, so I'll take their word for it.
I would say I'm just constantly trying to make it through the week or month or whatever, but I have no idea what I'm working towards. I've basically given up on everything and said to life, "Fine, do what you will. Jerk me whichever way you need to." I'm not suicidal and this isn't some kind of weird death post (Sylvia Plath Blog? Splog?). I just felt the need to be more honest with my readers, not just post when I'm feeling good and motivated. Ever notice how little I actually update this thing, as opposed to how much I should? Yeah.
I guess this is all just a healing process, or a toughening-up process. Maybe this will only make my spirit and creativity stronger. Maybe one day I will wake up and actually have a spark of motivation or inspiration or just something that isn't along the (seemingly constant) lines of food and sleep.
The past two and a half years have been rough to say the least. I was going to describe them as being "a nightmare of the most fantastic kind," but there's been good points. Times when I've felt like somebody, more than a pale shell that can magically talk and make food. Times when I actually possessed some creative ability and felt feelings like I used to.
Creatively, I'm dead, or very close to it. I no longer derive any kind of inspiration or initiative from anything, or so it seems. This is disturbing. I make stuff because it's what I do, and I can't. No amount of artistic coaching can seem to lance the horrific boil that's holding back all of my ideas and creativity. I supposed that line was pretty creative, but it's been in my head for quite a long time now, so it doesn't count. People tell me to just do this or just do that. It's like watering a dead plant; nothing's coming back. It's sad seeing the heaps of polymer clay on my desk. I've tried my best for almost two months now to make something, and all that's come from it is a little pendant with rainbow flowers on it. And it gets uglier the more I look at it.
My surroundings for the most part have not been, as Carl Sagan would put it, benign or malevolent. Merely indifferent. I don't know how much of that statement is true, seeing that the weather's been nice. People in public are nice. My employers, coworkers, and customers are always telling me what a good job I'm going, despite the fact I feel like an out-of-place, quiet little mouse. I trust their judgement more than I trust my own, however, so I'll take their word for it.
I would say I'm just constantly trying to make it through the week or month or whatever, but I have no idea what I'm working towards. I've basically given up on everything and said to life, "Fine, do what you will. Jerk me whichever way you need to." I'm not suicidal and this isn't some kind of weird death post (Sylvia Plath Blog? Splog?). I just felt the need to be more honest with my readers, not just post when I'm feeling good and motivated. Ever notice how little I actually update this thing, as opposed to how much I should? Yeah.
I guess this is all just a healing process, or a toughening-up process. Maybe this will only make my spirit and creativity stronger. Maybe one day I will wake up and actually have a spark of motivation or inspiration or just something that isn't along the (seemingly constant) lines of food and sleep.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
PB & Kitty
I've recently come to one of those realizations. The ones that you think about and it's like the clouds part and heavenly choral music starts blasting from huge, randomly appearing rainbows. I was letting my mind wonder one day when I sudden came upon the realization that those who preach that, in order to be a writer, one must write every single day are either writing for a living or don't write at all.
Most people out there probably disagree with me, and that's fine. I'm sure some people need to write everyday. That's great. But some writers just can't, try as they might. This totally includes me. I have to let my ideas incubate until they're ready to be written and I can't just slam out some sentences and say I've written enough for the day. It just doesn't feel right to me. Perhaps I'll change, perhaps I won't. Just wanted to get that out there.
The twenty-eighth of June marked two months I've been working at my current job and I'm still enjoying it. It's like every other job, with ups and down and things I don't really like all that much and things I love. Being a bakery clerk isn't all that complex, so I'll skip the vivid descriptions of baking break and putting items on the markdown rack. Earlier in June (the seventh) I turned twenty-two. It doesn't feel much different than twenty-one, but I think I do feel a little older. My boyfriend and I went to Hawthorne and browsed all sorts of neat shops and had lunch at Fred Meyer. He also got me a sweet card and a totally killer embroidered yellow purse.
I've also been working more with polymer clay and figuring out I can make to put on Etsy. The Methodist church a few blocks away had this amazing craft sale and I scored big time. Like, tons of polymer clay (Super Sculpey, translucent Sculpey, the granite-looking Sculpey, a brick-sized block of plain white, about two dozen little packs of the colored kinds; it was just obscene), some push molds, and a few other little craft thingies for thirty bucks. Also included in that list was a large plastic jewelry case chock full of little jewelry findings, so I have no shortage of those. I've just been staring at the fruits of my crafty conquest, trying to figure out what to make. Definitely jewelry, but I'm not sure exactly what. Maybe some neat little rose earrings, or some random pins with eggplants or something on them. If anyone has any suggestions/requests, let me know and I'll see what I can do.
Oh, and the cat apparently loves peanut butter.
Most people out there probably disagree with me, and that's fine. I'm sure some people need to write everyday. That's great. But some writers just can't, try as they might. This totally includes me. I have to let my ideas incubate until they're ready to be written and I can't just slam out some sentences and say I've written enough for the day. It just doesn't feel right to me. Perhaps I'll change, perhaps I won't. Just wanted to get that out there.
The twenty-eighth of June marked two months I've been working at my current job and I'm still enjoying it. It's like every other job, with ups and down and things I don't really like all that much and things I love. Being a bakery clerk isn't all that complex, so I'll skip the vivid descriptions of baking break and putting items on the markdown rack. Earlier in June (the seventh) I turned twenty-two. It doesn't feel much different than twenty-one, but I think I do feel a little older. My boyfriend and I went to Hawthorne and browsed all sorts of neat shops and had lunch at Fred Meyer. He also got me a sweet card and a totally killer embroidered yellow purse.
I've also been working more with polymer clay and figuring out I can make to put on Etsy. The Methodist church a few blocks away had this amazing craft sale and I scored big time. Like, tons of polymer clay (Super Sculpey, translucent Sculpey, the granite-looking Sculpey, a brick-sized block of plain white, about two dozen little packs of the colored kinds; it was just obscene), some push molds, and a few other little craft thingies for thirty bucks. Also included in that list was a large plastic jewelry case chock full of little jewelry findings, so I have no shortage of those. I've just been staring at the fruits of my crafty conquest, trying to figure out what to make. Definitely jewelry, but I'm not sure exactly what. Maybe some neat little rose earrings, or some random pins with eggplants or something on them. If anyone has any suggestions/requests, let me know and I'll see what I can do.
Oh, and the cat apparently loves peanut butter.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)