and then what happens?

to the receptionist hmmm.

Etsy!

Lori and I are busy planning away a new project. An Etsy shop we're hoping! Possibly a successful one? I really, really want this to take fruition, and I'm scribbling down ideas here and getting pretty excited.

kitties

I was walking along the sidewalk today thinking that January has been a month of aquisitions. What a kind of cold way of looking at it, but it has been. (Not that there have been many, many warm things in it too. )

But a lot, lot, lot of it has been taking things from the outside and putting them inside our shoebox apt. our square footage. Even kitties! We went and conquered and picked them up and put them in. At least they are not plastic or paper, they are warm bodies of course, things to love and to be loved by.

But all the other things- I was too happy in showing him my new purchases! Increasing functionality and having things look nice can be very satisfying, I guess. But going to work on Monday to pay for them drives home the reality of the arghhhh consumption cycle.

We build a home. Like with lego. But it's just a box to put our bodies in.... UnleSS we keep in mind the goal of it being our creative space. A place where worthwhile things come from. And of course where our lives are. It's where are hearts are too. That is how the saying goes.

My hope is for many hearts to come in through that place. For us to give and receive freely. Our walls can be screens, with the air and the light all breathing and bleeding in and out to the streets.

Maybe I just need it to be spring before I feel like that can happen. Maybe this is hibernation.

Twenty-one-one's

I'm reading Surfacing right now, by Margaret Atwood. And I think one of the main reasons I like it so much is that nameless female narrator. I like how it's all in-her-head. And her madness is so intense. She becomes mad, but before that even she is intense, intense, intense. I like how she doesn't know what's normal. Looks to others to learn what it is, forgetting what she knows and following them. And then I like how it turns out that the others were wrong, later. And she has to figure things out for herself.

I can relate.

Really that's the large experience of growing up. We are little and silly, but generally good. Sometimes too we are very, very serious. I can remember being young and sitting at the adult's table, with my chin in my hands and listening very intently to everything that was said.

At that time I was a sponge, for stress especially. Things would strike my heart and paralyze my body, anything that I took to be of consequence. Everything was earthshattering. I didn't ask questions though. I would only watch and observe, incubate fears and try to figure out what normal was. In my head I was a nameless narrator.

Day 1

I've been inspired a lot lately. Though distracted! But my brain has been gathering bits and pieces here and there, I think maybe saving them up to build something new. We'll see what happens here. The picture isn't clear yet.