Radio silence
You know how sometimes you let something slide because you’re so, so busy, and then more and more things happen, so you develop this mental backlog of things you’d like to write about and share, but only when you really have the time to sit and devote to it, and then you keep having more projects pop up that require your absolute attention, and you’re worried that if you spend your time writing blog entries you’ll never get around to the writing-based projects, and by that point you’re just beating yourself up for having let it go so long and you don’t know how to even pick it up again?…..yeah.
Food for thought
Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative [or creation] there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too.
All sorts of things occur to help one that would otherwise never have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man would have believed would have come his way.
– W. H. Murray, The Scottish Himalayan Expedition
The haps
Things have been pretty chill lately, hence no updates. I got a cold so last week was pretty moot.
Jey’s sister and her husband are traveling around California this week and next, so we’re going to head over to San Francisco on Friday for our own mini-vacation and to visit with them.
In preparation, we’ve been watching films set in SF and the Bay area, starting with Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo.
The first time I ever saw Vertigo was on a theatre screen in San Antonio, as part of a weekly classic films screening that I used to attend with my friends Francisco and Denise. It was at a theatre where they allowed alcoholic beverages, and guy in the row behind us got drunk and cackled through the entire film. Especially at parts with dramatic zoom-ins and tortured expressions. So there was definitely a narm element happening.
Less so this time around, though — I was caught up just as much as ever in the classic Hitchcock tension, and was quite pleased to recognize some of the San Francisco landmarks in the film, such as the Palace of Fine Arts (the place where I met Jey for the first time).
Gorgeous.
I also found this excellent Google Map which has a marker for every location in the film. I’d been wondering if the redwood trees they visit were in Muir Forest, but it turns out they had actually traveled to Big Basin State Park, south of the city.
Done but not forgotten
Last night was our final chance to grab the miscellaneous detritus that’s been floating about our old apartment, as we had to vacate in time for them to repaint the walls and replace the carpets so someone new could move in. We did end up taking a lot of the unclassifiable/unpackable stuff (curtain rods, plant pots) but we also left a lot of things behind, too.
Once we dropped the keys in the overnight deposit I felt a weight slipping away from my shoulders. I lived in that apartment for three years or so and learned a lot about myself while I lived there, and I’m glad to move on, though I did feel quite sad when I locked the door for the last time.
It also feels great, though. Like turning the page of a book to find a new chapter heading with one of those lovely illuminated letters to start it off.
Now I have to unpack the items from boxes that are piled up in every room of the house and have no time to do it (in fact I’m skipping something tonight so I can actually be at my house for more than an hour before going to bed, a rare opportunity). I’m imposing a two week deadline for this stage of things. I am going to try to organize a yard sale with our neighbors two weekends from now, so if I haven’t found a place for things inside the house, out it goes to find a new home.
At the same time that all this insane busy madness is going on, I keep seeing the most amazing and inspirational artwork and projects. It’s driving me crazy to not be able to sit down and start my feeble first steps toward creativity. But I have to be patient and take one step at a time, frustrating as it is to stretch things out so far. I’m finding myself in a weird struggle between achieving balance and attacking stuff with all my energy and focus. How can I sit serenely on a park bench surrounded by nature and appreciating the leaves and birdsong when I’m also dying to dance around and sling paint while shouting, ‘Help! I want to create!’?
Anyway, I’ve been thinking about collections and curating a lot lately, because I don’t really collect anything. But while I’m pondering that, my thoughtful mother has provided me with a jumping-off point by picking up two Harry Potter books in foreign languages (Spanish and Italian) during her travels!
Harry Potter e la Pietra Filosofale and Harry Potter y las Reliquias de la Muerte
I already have all the American covers and also one British book 7.
Finally, some quotes from a recent Keri Smith blog:
“i begin to write here and end up stopping for some reason. my mind does not think or reach outwardly these days.
she felt, not very “present”. just hearing her say that made me feel extremely relieved and understood as I had been feeling the EXACT same thing, but had not spoken of it to anyone. i felt my eyes get wide and my insides taking a deep breath.
right now I feel pulled in many directions but unable to connect.
this person looked at me and said, “it’s perfectly normal. you are in a new and very intense phase of your life. there’s no need to resist it.
damn, i really needed to hear that.”
Home is where the…huh
My parents divorced when I was four, so I grew up in two figurative houses. Each of my parents, separately, moved on average every four years – possibly more, but that’s my best estimate. At my Dad’s house, I shared a room with my younger sister until I left for college.
Once I left for school in San Antonio, I no longer had a room at either parents’ house (due to my mother moving, and my sister occupying the former shared room), so summers and holidays were tricky. Plus I lived in a dorm, so I moved my possessions around every semester, in addition to those aforementioned breaks to Dallas.
So yeah, I have a weird relationship with the concept of “home”.
Even my first apartment(s) weren’t ones I chose for myself; I relied on my mother to help me scope out places and my final choices were based on her approval of the area’s safety and amenities.
So this new apartment of ours is great leap forward into constructing my life to my own vision. It’s come with a hefty price, though. To start, our utilities weren’t turned on in time, so we moved in all weekend in what was easily 100 degree (or 38 for my Celsius-based friends) heat.
Though now that I think about it, the price extraction started quite early on, with the sorting and purging of my apartment’s contents, which included three years’ worth of accumulated detritus as well as plenty of miscellaneous stuff I’d brought with me from four years of school.
Every time I look at a stack of papers from an old university class, I think of two things, Niecy Nash from Clean House (“mayhem and foolishness!”) and this passage from “The Artist’s Way”:
You probably won’t have time to complete all of the other tasks in any given week. Try to do about half. Know that the rest are there for use when you are able to get back to them. In choosing which half of the tasks to do, use two guidelines. Pick those that appeal to you and those you strongly resist. Leave the more neutral ones for later. Just remember, in choosing, that we often resist what we most need.
Truer words were never spoken, Julia Cameron! Shedding my accumulated ‘Stuff’ has been like a snake sloughing off its skin. It’s hard and emotional and makes me grumpy as hell, but it’s freeing in the best way imaginable.
Plus, definitely the best argument for asceticism is having to schlep your stuff down three flights of stairs and up two more in the Texas summer.
