Nothing Changed, Nothing The Same

So I told myself I would update this blog twice or more per week, keep myself accountable, force me into the open. I suppose it also forces me to do something noteworthy every day, or nearly every day. So today I engaged in behavior some might accidentally label "wasting time". But I don't think it was. Now that I'm in this position of self-employment, of tightrope walking, or insane freedom and unbelievable restriction, I am having to redefine what I consider time well spent. This all goes to what it's meant for me to make the leap to full-time artist and all the mental masturbation and brain torture that is involved in that. But things do get really, really quiet when I'm painting, when I'm drawing.

The thing nobody tells you when you're "following your bliss" is how much internal detritus you have to stride through (head held high) to keep following that little beacon of light. Every day spent on my own terms is a battle to affirm that my own terms are the right ones, that I'm doing everything I can, and everything I should. See, I am 100% sure in my decision, but the world around me seems somehow surprised at that. Seriously, if you think I made a mistake you don't know me very well, and it's not really up to you anyway. You do your thing, this one's all mine. Alright, enough defensiveness. I revel in the fact that almost all the people I've told about leaving my job actually do support me. I mean, yes, the economy is bad right now, but am I really expected to put everything on hold until it changes? When is that? Okay okay now, really, I'm over the negativity.

Here is actually what I wanted to talk about today: I slept until about 8 o'clock today. I drove D to work (O is with Gramma today), then went to the thrift store. I spent almost two hours and came out with a big frame, a pair of jeans and a sweater (shop for sweaters now and you have a much better chance of greatness). I went to the music store and bought nothing. All of this was starting to feel like the aforementioned "wasted time", but I couldn't bring myself to go home just then. I drove past my house. I drove down a road I've never gone all the way down before. I rolled my windows down, cranked the stereo, and headed...out. I drove and drove, singing along to Bob Seger, Akon, Bob Marley, Bon Jovi and whatever else I happened upon and liked. I ended up in the middle of nowhere. I ended up parked under the shade of a giant oak tree on the side of a road bordered on both sides by fields of amber grass. I got out and leaned on my car and just waited. I stayed like that for a good thirty minutes, listening to country songs I've never heard before, and never had much affinity for. I watched the wind move through those brittle blades and make a rolling ocean from a dry plain. And while I can say over and over again that I appreciate the quiet wide places like these, I think I forgot exactly why until today. It becomes abstract, a love of nature, of a living earth. But recently, I feel a gentle tugging from behind my belly button to spend more time where the colors saturate and bleed, where you feel so alive your senses almost crowd each other out of your head. Too much. I didn't do very much of note with my time today, but I did something amazing with my space. I fell in love again with swayback barns, fence posts, roads that meander, never letting you drive over 15 mph. I have harvested full, ripe fruit today. And tonight I'm going to eat it. I can't wait to get to writing.

Always,

Laurelin