sunday morning scribbling

i was a writer. i’m back to writing again.

i am an artist. more specifically, i am a sculptor.

i am warm blooded and much prefer the warmth to the cold.

i prefer music to silence. but not any music. i curate my music selections.

i have made it for three years without my husband. and i’m happy. my dream a couple hours ago contained more of a sense of frustration with him than anything else. we needed to do something and he was reading in bed, in my parents’ bed in miami when i was growing up, and said, “really, i’ll just finish this and come out.” but i knew the truth and didn’t believe him. and my life was on hold because i had to stand there and wait and wait. and it was very frustrating. but yesterday in yoga, feeling everything, i missed him. cause i still do. but really, i love my life right now. i feel more free than i ever have. and more stable mentally, emotionally. but, of course, i’m never doing enough…

i am an activist, who should be doing so much more. i should have gone to the march yesterday. i should be working with the immigrant rights group more. a guilt that will just be there, i know, cause i need to be creating art right now. and i am.

i am a mom. and even with a kid 20 years old, i sometimes jump at the idea of having been/being responsible for three human lives. plus two dogs. and a house.

i constantly have ideas that i want to make true for this reality. but you can’t do everything. you need to pick and choose.

in the good place, the (anti) heros SPOILERS have come to the conclusion that no one has gotten into the good place in more than 500 years because life has become too complicated. buying a tomato at the store means that you’re contributing to global warming, despicable migrant pay, large business takeover of small farmers, pesticides, etc etc. whereas before, you just grew your own damn tomato. but that argument fell apart really quickly when judge gen pointed out that you still have the choice to buy the tomato. no one is making you. i had the choice to buy this macbook which was made with chinese child and inhumane labor practices. i have the choice to participate in this life and this society and that automatically makes me ‘unclean,’ in a way. not suited for the good place.

i am a mouse murderer. ok, i catch them humanely, but really, when i let them go in the forest, aren’t they going to just freeze in the middle of winter, or just be eaten by something else? so i’m indirectly a mouse murderer.

i am curious. i want to learn the differences between stoneware, porcelain, slip, glaze. akemi started explaining to me last night at her opening (really really cool — she is such an artist, in the best sense. she makes art out of everything she sees, and even though she plays golf (yuck), her whole being is art).

i want more time but also more more. i want to re-read some of my favorite books but i want to read for the first time a host of others. i want to pay deep attention to “ka” by john crawley, sitting on my bedtable for month two now, but i know that putting myself into that world is removing myself from this one cause of the attention it really needs. and mean time, i have so much going on in this one.

i love traveling. and i really love coming home to my bed.

i love escaping but also mega participating, paying attention to very specific ideas in detail, which comes easily when i’m stoned.

i feel left out when someone dies and i didn’t appreciate her like others did while she was alive. like mary oliver. a poet who people seem to think was simplistic but natural and beautiful. poetry is one of those things that i know i should spend more time on (see above) but just takes too much away from the other stuff i enjoy.

i love playing hockey, and even though i’m not good, i’m better than i used to be. i know if i lost weight i could be faster on the ice and better conditioned, and do cross-overs more easily (maybe even backward crossovers?), but i’m not putting my energy into that now (losing weight) because for me, it takes a whole lot of energy. i placate myself by swimming, yoga-ing, lifting weights, biking, etc and eating plenty of salad along with my chocolate.

i do choose to put my energy into seeing more art, especially since scott died. art and music move me and bring me as close to nirvana as i can get. so yeah, i am going to book that trip to miami, just to see that one exhibit by ebony patterson. and i will continue to attend openings and art shows around here too, cause beauty and truth are not only the province of famous out-of-towners.

i want to take a clay class and an existentialist theory smithsonian class (if the government ever re-opens) and learn how to draw correctly and practice carving wood more. and yeah, some of my stuff could have been in the washington sculptors group show last night. it is good enough. and just like everyone else, i like to hear that people like my art. i’d like to show or sell my stuff. but only the pieces i make for me. i don’t want to create art to sell it. see the difference?

three years ago, my husband died. i’ve learned so much about myself and what makes me happy in that time. i still think about him every day, not always pleasantly. life is short and unpredictable and no, there’s no corporeal afterlife like in the good place so i just need to make as much of my life as i can.