Uninspired Title #17

Staying focused on the things that keep my head in the right place…is apparently a challenge. I hadn’t been to the gym in way too many days and my muscles have apparently all atrophied. It doesn’t seem fair that two weeks away will do that much damage, but it felt good to go back. Now to get it back on the regular calendar. I cried while I was there…too much time alone in my brain. Bad place.

I wanted to start painting the smaller room yesterday, but barely made it through washing the walls and then found more parts that needed spackle. This is the part I hate. You can’t just paint. You have to prep. And most of the prepping activities have to dry afterwards and it just takes forever, and everything lies around in chaos during that process and I just really hate it.

We’re painting today. Hopefully this morning. Then we can put the room back together tomorrow and move on to the next chaos-making space.

Yesterday I also went to a writing workshop…well, I wouldn’t really call it a workshop because there wasn’t anything planned or taught…it was more like a writing networking/critique/brainstorming event. It was interesting. I’m not sure what I’m looking for in writing support, and maybe the answer is just that I need some accountability to actually force myself to write and to complete some sort of outline. I don’t know that I need a group for that. I know I can’t go to the next meeting, but it did help me solidify a plan (sort of), so maybe I’ll just hold myself accountable. I do a pretty good job of that with my art, so one would think I could translate that into writing as well. Word count per week or something. I’m still the oldest in the group by far. And you know what? I just don’t understand electronic cigarettes. At all.

Being really tired is always part of the first week of vacation after school. It’s like I’m trying to make up for months of sleep loss. Because I am. But then it’s hard to fall asleep as well…last night I was just so sad but I wanted to go to sleep, but then I couldn’t, and crying yourself to sleep multiple nights in a row starts to really suck. Plus it messes with the dreaming and I wake up in a bad mood too and I don’t know how to make it better. I was talking to someone yesterday about the negative effects my depression must have had on my kids this year, and she reminded me that the worst I had done was cry a lot and forget a bunch of stuff…that they were fed and safe and clothed in clean clothes and I wasn’t a raging alcoholic and I didn’t attempt suicide and I didn’t stay in bed for days on end, and if that meant that they had to see their mom sad and worry about her and all that, well that wouldn’t kill them. It might make the world a bit more real for them: here’s what really happens when people treat each other like shit and someone doesn’t just bounce right back up all perky and getting a new haircut and wanting to go out and make love to the world. This is what sad looks like. And this is what you do when you feel that way. You keep going.

She’s right of course. Part of the book I’m writing is about this. It’s hard for me not to write (and draw) autobiographically, at least on some level. Here’s me and there I am on paper, in fabric. The quilt I’m working on right now, I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to talk about it without crying. I’ll write a script and someone else can read it for me.

I did want to start ironing last night. I don’t want to NOT be making art just because I have to do all this other stuff. Being tired doesn’t help…but I drank some more tea and made an effort…the biggest issue was that before I could start, I had to put all the fabrics away. Ugh. Hate that. Especially since the containers are crowded at the moment…boychild actually came in a few days ago and asked if there was any possibility that I would use up all those fabrics before I died. Hmn. Probably not.

Inevitably I will need to pull some of these back out when I can’t find a piece. I’m currently missing a finger bone. It may show up…a few pieces have been in the wrong bin so far. It took about an hour to put all of these away, to find all the bins and shove stuff in best I could. I don’t really need to buy more fabric these days, except for backgrounds and backings and binding. Even backings, I try to do those from the stash, even if I have to piece them. I don’t really care what’s on the back. I might as well use up those larger pieces I bought for some bizarre reason way back when.

Then I finally started ironing around 10:30 or so, maybe later.

I really liked how the dirt fabrics were fitting together colorwise…such a complicated section, but satisfying when it all got together.

Then I added skeleton parts. This one is really broken into pieces, no ribcage or pelvis at all, hands reaching out, broken skull.

Yeah, no imagery there. Shut up, you Freudian. I use the applique sheet on top of the drawing for the big pieces, but then pull the drawing out so I can see it when I’m trying to iron stuff on top of it, like the skelly parts. I spent about an hour and a half and finished about 150 pieces. At that rate, it’ll be about 18 hours to get everything together, and then another couple of hours to iron it down. If I’m focused, I might get it done in a week…remembering that I do unfortunately have a ton of painting to do and the cleaning and stupid prep that goes with it, plus there are actually OTHER things I’m doing. Shocking, I know. I’m not looking forward to next weekend, because it’s a whole lot of soccer a long way away and I don’t have anything I can take with me, unless I get all those birds traced (huh, motivation for that?).

Anyway, at this point I am just procrastinating the painting. Of course. Here’s to hoping tonight’s mood is better than last night’s…not sure what I can concretely do to make that happen…it seems that being busy and checking tasks off a list is not enough. Neither is getting some artmaking done or meditating or exercising, all the things they say will work. Sometimes I think “they” should just go bite themselves, honestly. If any of their magic lists for pulling oneself out of depression actually worked for anyone who wasn’t just a little blue because they had a bad day, someone who had serious depression clouding their mind, well the world would be a different place, wouldn’t it? I wonder how much of the art and music that surrounds us would still be here. Is that a good trade-off? I don’t know.

Seen on a car on the way home yesterday from the writing thing…

Found it sad. Then again, I find everything sad at the moment. At least they’re taking responsibility for their actions.