All that glitters

You know that girl in your head who tells you can't do it, so why even try? Well, I know that she's a liar, but she has me petrified. I'm not mad at her, because I understand that she's just scared and doesn't want to see me fail. Her scope is so limited that she can barely imagine the possibility that I might succeed, or at least have some fun along the way. I feel bad for her (let's call her Violet) because she usually sits alone, cautiously looking around, making sure that nothing will force her out of her comfortable little corner. Violet is extremely suspicious of the other girl (let's call her Phoebe) who lives across the way, in another corner.

Unlike Violet, Phoebe doesn't usually stay put. She's all over the place, flitting here and there, running about laughing, even venturing over to Violet's corner and inviting her to come out and play. On a good day, Violet does. And each time it's like discovering a whole new world. "Look at this!" says Phoebe. "Isn't it beautiful? Isn't it fun? Aren't we wrapped up in the joy and wonder of it all?"

On those good days, Violet responds, "Yes! I never knew it could all be so marvelous! How could I ever think that my one little corner was enough?" And she and Phoebe hold hands, laughing, skipping, just living and breathing pure magic.

But on the bad days, Violet, who has a pessimistic and mean streak, looks at Phoebe and says, "What's the use? What's so great about any of this? You keep trying, but it's just so hard sometimes, isn't it? Wouldn't you rather take a nap, Phoebe?"

Phoebe is fiercely independent and annoyingly optimistic, but even she can't hold out forever. Most of the time she simply tells Violet that she loves her and will always welcome her to come and play. But sometimes, on the worst of days, Phoebe takes Violet's gloomy advice and retreats to her own corner, drifting into an uneasy sleep.

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A few weeks ago I signed up for a Postcard Swap hosted by Karen of Chookooloonks. The idea instantly thrilled me for two reasons. First of all, I love the idea of taking online community off-line into the "real" world. What an interesting way to connect with strangers who share at least one common bond (reading the same blog). The concept is fairly simple: Create a batch of handmade postcards using your medium of choice, mail them out to the 11 people on your list, and receive 11 little works of art in return.

The second reason I was excited about this is that I needed an art project to jump start me. I've mentioned before that I started dabbling with watercolours earlier this summer. I'm sad to say that I've only painted once since the class ended over a month ago. I want to paint and try new art forms (at this point, most art forms are new to me), but I never seem to get around to it.

I think about it a lot. But it just seems like such a hassle. I have to work on the dining room table, which means I need to put the kits in an upstairs bedroom, otherwise they'd be covered in paint and glitter . (Okay, I don't actually have glitter. Should I get glitter?) I tell myself that it'd be so much easier to paint and create if I had an art station in my office. That way I could make a mess and not clean it up if I didn't finish a project in one sitting. "If only I had a studio," I tell myself, "I'd create more."

But the real truth of the matter is that I'm scared. When I first started painting, I had no visions in my head of what I wanted to do. But very quickly -- surprisingly quickly, in fact -- I started to have ideas and inklings about what I'd like to see happen on the page. But I'm new. So new that I often don't have a clue about how to achieve my vision. I don't even know what materials to use. Heck, I don't even know what materials are available. I'm pretty sure that some of my visions aren't suited to watercolour, but I don't know what I need.

All I know is that I'm supposed to mail out 11 hand-made postcards in two weeks. And I don't want the recipients to be disappointed. As I fretted over this a few nights ago, a poem came to me, just a few lines long, but perfect and complete. I haven't written poetry in years and was surprised by its appearance. I'm taking it as a gift that I can use to anchor my vision for the postcard. At least I have a starting point now.

I'll share it -- and the postcards -- with you after everything is mailed out. In the meantime, tell me, how do you get your own artist to come out and play?

Nothing but time, baby. Nothing but time.

I am swimming in time. I have so much free time that I squander it, forgetting its value, like a wayward pop star with her fame, or a young socialite who doesn't care about her millions because she has millions more.

I used to work a fulltime job and do freelance writing on the side. I was edgy and exhausted much of the time. I didn't have enough time for myself and was forced to follow other people's schedules that just didn't jibe with my own biorhythms.

When I left fulltime employment a year ago, I took some time to recover. I was overextended and pretty close to some sort of breakdown. Since then, I've had periods of time with a lot of work, and other periods with very few deadlines to meet. I've found that work breeds work. Researching one project always leads me to another. Securing one client somehow brings me another, even when they're not even remotely connected. And creativity breeds creativity. One idea wakes me up and generates another and another, on topics as varied as citizen journalism to art journals. When it rains, it really does pour. And so often, it truly is famine or feast. These sayings have become clichés because there is some truth in them.

During the slow times, I get lazy. But lately I've had a load of new ideas and the desire to fill my days with more useful, focused, and exciting activities. Then I immediately feel overwhelmed and wonder how I will possibly fit it all in. Fit it all in to what? I already said that I have an excess of time. So where does it all go?

Why am I not reading more books? Sending out more magazine queries? Fleshing out my book outline? Taking more walks? Seeing friends more often? Cooking more dinners? Baking more cupcakes? Playing with watercolours? Remembering to moisturize my newly-pedicured feet? Visiting more farmers' markets? Praying more often? Why am I not doing all of the things I swore I'd do if only I had the time?

I've talked with some artists who are also mothers, and they assert that the time-consuming job of child rearing can actually help them with their art. Being forced to work in shorter, more focused spurts seems to spur them toward greater creativity and productivity. Much of the analysis paralysis, the procrastination, and the fear are set aside for those glorious moments when they have the opportunity to create. They say the look back at their pre-motherhood days and wonder what they did with all that free time.

I think about this and wonder, what's my excuse for not doing all of the things my heart desires? What am I doing with my time?

I don't want to wait for a baby or some other responsibility to make me look wistfully at my previous life and ache for the long, long days filled with me-time. I have the me-time now. And I'm determined to start making it my time.

This means making lists and checking them twice. As much as I like to be a free spirit, I need some structure and accountability to keep me on task. The beauty of my life right now is that I get to choose which tasks I take on. What a glorious gift! I always secretly wished for this type of life, but never really thought I'd have it. I realize that it may not last forever. But while it's here, it's mine. And I'm going to use it well. In the process, maybe I'll acquire some skills that will help me to live fully even when external demands take up more of my time.

Tell me, how are you making your life and time your own, despite (or because of) the constraints around you?

A Quiet Joyful Girl

Lavender Leaves Henri Bendel candle

I spend too little time by candlelight. But tonight that soft flickering light, and music, seem like the only things that will ease the unexplained heaviness in my heart.

After returning from Chicago last Sunday, I spent the week holed-up in the house with my husband. We spent most of Monday in bed, having a lazy summer day slumber party. We've turned our days and nights topsy-turvy, staying up until 3:00 or later, and sleeping until after noon. We don't get a lot of time like this, with no responsibilities pulling us in different directions. But we're on vacation from work this week, and the only schedule we have to keep is our own.

We've been laid back and irresponsible all week – eating up the little food that was left in the house from before my trip, and then eating out or ordering in when we couldn't find anything left in the freezer. We need to go to the grocery store. We probably should do some laundry, and maybe vacuum. But we've been resting, and it was nice.

Now, I'm weary with resting. Too much inactivity makes me sluggish and sad. And tonight I definitely feel sad, even though I don't really know why. I've had plenty of together time with my beloved. And I've even had plenty of time to myself this week to pursue my own interests.

Something inside of me feels out of sorts. I don't like this feeling. When it shows up I always fear that it is a harbinger of more concrete sadness to come. I tried to shake it with a good dinner, conversation, and a glass of white sangria. But it lingers.

I felt melancholy like this a lot during my college days. I lit a lot of candles then. If they didn't cheer me up, at least they created a space in which I could acknowledge my feelings for what they are. Of course, you run the risk of wallowing when you do this. But sometimes it's all you can do.

I have two cats now, and don't bother to light candles very much anymore. The furballs are reckless, and I'm a bit forgetful, so open flames are an invitation for disaster. But a few weeks ago I splurged on a Lavender Leaves Henri Bendel candle for my office, the one room in the house that's off-limits to the kits. I only light it when I'm sitting at my desk, and have a contract with myself to blow it out whenever I leave the room.

So tonight I light the candle and listen to Ani DiFranco's "Joyful Girl," which came up in this session at BlogHer. I’m only a casual Ani listener, and have always meant to listen more closely. The lyrics for "Joyful Girl" speak of confidence and joy, but when I listen to it, the song sounds sad to me.

This leads me to thinking about the basic difference between joy and happiness. Sometimes I think that true joy is something deeper, something separate from the emotion we identify as happy. Joy can be jubilant, but at its core it is rooted in a knowledge that transcends emotion. It has a solidity that isn't swayed by mere moods. It's a certainty and a comfort even when we feel unsure and sad.

I suppose each person must find her own joy, the foundation on which she can move and breathe and have her being. I'm only slightly surprised to discover that at the age of 31 I'm still seeking my joy, still working to build and strengthen my foundation. The younger me had hoped I'd have it figured out by now. But really, why should I be surprised? As I get older, I realize that there's no such thing as "finally" growing up. We grow and change, but it's never done.

I like the quiet joy of "Joyful Girl," but disagree on one point: "I know that there's no grand plan here/This is just the way it goes," Ani sings. Until recently, I might have agreed; I railed against the adage that "everything happens for a reason." Sure there's a reason, I thought, but only so far as the laws of cause and effect. I believe in a loving God who has given us freewill in the midst of a fallen world. As such, bad things happen – and God is not pleased with them, and neither should we be.

I used to be much more of a "when a door closes, a window will open" type of person. But the last few years of my life had made me cynical and bitter. Over the past few months, as I've slowly opened myself again to the beauty and mystery of the universe, I'm more inclined to think that our small lives are part of a grand plan. And for now, I'm trying to find the joy in that, even if it's a quiet, candlelit joy tinged with melancholy.

Joyful Girl ~ Ani DiFranco

I do it for the joy it brings
'Cause I'm a joyful girl
'Cause the world owes me nothing
And we owe each other the world
I do it because it's the least I can do
I do it 'cause I learned it from you
I do it just because I want to
'Cause I want to

Everything I do is judged
And they mostly get it wrong
But oh well
'Cause the bathroom mirror has not budged
And the woman who lives there can tell
The truth from the stuff that they say
And she looks me in the eye
Says would you prefer the easy way?
No? Well okay then
Don't cry

And I wonder if everything I do
I do instead
Of something I want to do more
The question fills my head
I know that there's no grand plan here
This is just the way it goes
And when everything else seems unclear
I guess at least I know

I do it for the joy it brings
'Cause I'm a joyful girl
'Cause the world owes me nothing
And we owe each other the world
I do it because it's the least I can do
I do it 'cause I learned it from you
I do it just because I want to
'Cause I want to

Me in 10 Secs.

I'm a freelance writer and editor who until recently thought I had absolutely no talent in the visual arts. But I've been painting and no one has laughed yet. I long for the sea and feel most like myself near large bodies of water. (Yet I live in a nearly landlocked state.) I need everyday beauty to feel whole. I'm not sure if I've ever been stung by a bee, and my very first cavity at the age of 23 involved a root canal. I'm currently reading The Artist's Way and it's changing my life. If you like good food, deep conversation, and thinking for yourself, let's be friends!

(Why do I feel like I just wrote a personal ad?)

Great idea from Mocha Momma. Meet other BlogHers here.

Intro yo'self in the comments -- whether you're going to Chicago or not!

I'm Leavin' on a Jet Plane

I leave for BlogHer tomorrow. I'm excited about this gathering of other smart, sassy women writers. There will be all sorts of interesting people to meet and panels to attend, covering things like: following your passion, self-branding and promotion, politics, crafts, sex, web design, making money, techie tools, storytelling, photography, racial tolerance, artificial intelligence, and food. Where else can you hear Elizabeth Edwards give a keynote address about social media and listen to Amy Sedaris' take on Craftblogging in the same weekend?

My plane leaves in 18 hours. Am I ready to go?

Let's see:

• Cell phone charging -- check!
• Camera charging -- check!
• iPod charging -- check!
• Packed -- not yet
• Business Cards ready -- not yet
• Out of office reply turned on -- not yet
• House cleaned up so I don't return to a disaster zone on Sunday -- not yet

Hmmm... There seem to be too many things in the "not yet" category. I'd best get to work!