Self-Portrait with Piece of Wood
2009
oil on canvas
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
the past, the not-so-distant past, the present, the near and not-so-near future
Today I woke up to the snow flying through a colourless sky, an empty house (not even a puppy), and the day off with no solid plans except to do something that feels productive to me. It could be something very little. I want to call up some universities, get a better sense of where my not-so-distant future is sitting. I want to research some summer ideas for the even nearer-future. I am going to write some long-due letters to reignite my not so distant-past and reach out to some amazing people that I love and have been forgetting to hold more closely.
I always find myself reflecting on how 'the time flies' as if this were something new that can take me by surprise every time I realize it's happening. The time is pretty constant I would think, and yet it doesn't always feel that way. Lately it feels like it's going really fast, and yet going really slowly too. Not that it's an excuse, but when it feels like it's going slow, I tell myself that nothing is really changing, that I have all the time in the world and so it doesn't exactly matter what I do today or this week, or how the time is spent, because there's so gosh damn much of it. But then it seems these are the times when I accomplish the least, and tell myself not too worry too much about it. But I guess that's just a veneer, because I do worry about it and how I am spending my time.
It's not the tangible things that I wish I could show for time. I guess it's that too, because I want to do some more THINGS- I want to paint, to write, to cook and bake more. But it's more the quiet use of my time that I feel I am missing. I let whole days go by sometimes without making time for some quiet aimless thoughts. I fall asleep to a wandering mind, but that seems to be the only time, and it's always weighed down with heavy sleepyness, and so it's short-lived (as far as I can tell).
I have been dreaming strange and vivid dreams, and I haven't written one down in ages. These kind of dreams used to mean so much to me, because I thought that they made some sort of sense and that they could tell me something true about my self. I still feel that way, but I haven't been diligent in rolling them around a bit, and hanging on to them. I think that's a big thing- I don't hold on to things lately, and in that way, I feel as though I've got little to show.
It's not fair to keep telling myself that I am on some sort of hiatus right now. It's not like my real life will start back up and running at some future date. It's happening now and now and all the time. Living at home isn't so bad, but it's the complacency that seems to have come along with it. Yesterday was the first time that I cleaned my room and set up a space to draw and paint. I have been here for three months and it's taken me that long. I'd been living in a mess, and I didn't even care!
I think it's important to keep your eyes on the future. Not obsessively so, but when you've got a little light ahead of you, I think it throws light on the path you're walking down, so that you can look at and really see the things that are around you right now. I have been walking kind of blindly, and not even really knowing where I'm headed. Now, I have a bit clearer of an idea, and it makes me want to take a closer look around me and take note of what it is I'm seeing, how I feel about it, what I want to be seeing, and what I want to do about it.
I have been treasuring some feelings and sensations lately, some of them just memories and some of them hopes, and some real reflections of right now. I need to smell that smell of a rainy day where everything is melting and it's still cold but the temperature is up a bit. I need to focus on the colour of the sky when it peeks through the black and white of the mid-january Meaford landscape. I need to remember the feeling of tea and muffins and music and laughter and colouring with crayons in a kitchen with friends that I love so dearly. All of these things remind me what an amazing world it is, how does it become so easy to forget? Not really forget, but just disassociate. I want to be fully in touch with that reality, all the time. I want to make something of all the little moments, to really see everything that's around me, and feel the warmth of the light as it shines on these things.
I always find myself reflecting on how 'the time flies' as if this were something new that can take me by surprise every time I realize it's happening. The time is pretty constant I would think, and yet it doesn't always feel that way. Lately it feels like it's going really fast, and yet going really slowly too. Not that it's an excuse, but when it feels like it's going slow, I tell myself that nothing is really changing, that I have all the time in the world and so it doesn't exactly matter what I do today or this week, or how the time is spent, because there's so gosh damn much of it. But then it seems these are the times when I accomplish the least, and tell myself not too worry too much about it. But I guess that's just a veneer, because I do worry about it and how I am spending my time.
It's not the tangible things that I wish I could show for time. I guess it's that too, because I want to do some more THINGS- I want to paint, to write, to cook and bake more. But it's more the quiet use of my time that I feel I am missing. I let whole days go by sometimes without making time for some quiet aimless thoughts. I fall asleep to a wandering mind, but that seems to be the only time, and it's always weighed down with heavy sleepyness, and so it's short-lived (as far as I can tell).
I have been dreaming strange and vivid dreams, and I haven't written one down in ages. These kind of dreams used to mean so much to me, because I thought that they made some sort of sense and that they could tell me something true about my self. I still feel that way, but I haven't been diligent in rolling them around a bit, and hanging on to them. I think that's a big thing- I don't hold on to things lately, and in that way, I feel as though I've got little to show.
It's not fair to keep telling myself that I am on some sort of hiatus right now. It's not like my real life will start back up and running at some future date. It's happening now and now and all the time. Living at home isn't so bad, but it's the complacency that seems to have come along with it. Yesterday was the first time that I cleaned my room and set up a space to draw and paint. I have been here for three months and it's taken me that long. I'd been living in a mess, and I didn't even care!
I think it's important to keep your eyes on the future. Not obsessively so, but when you've got a little light ahead of you, I think it throws light on the path you're walking down, so that you can look at and really see the things that are around you right now. I have been walking kind of blindly, and not even really knowing where I'm headed. Now, I have a bit clearer of an idea, and it makes me want to take a closer look around me and take note of what it is I'm seeing, how I feel about it, what I want to be seeing, and what I want to do about it.
I have been treasuring some feelings and sensations lately, some of them just memories and some of them hopes, and some real reflections of right now. I need to smell that smell of a rainy day where everything is melting and it's still cold but the temperature is up a bit. I need to focus on the colour of the sky when it peeks through the black and white of the mid-january Meaford landscape. I need to remember the feeling of tea and muffins and music and laughter and colouring with crayons in a kitchen with friends that I love so dearly. All of these things remind me what an amazing world it is, how does it become so easy to forget? Not really forget, but just disassociate. I want to be fully in touch with that reality, all the time. I want to make something of all the little moments, to really see everything that's around me, and feel the warmth of the light as it shines on these things.
Monday, January 25, 2010
not a chelsea morning, but...
Even when it's grey and overcast, if you listen to that song and dance around the house then some of the feeling materializes, definitely.
This morning was our first walk that wasn't rushed, and I think Winnie appreciated the freedom to smell whatever pile of poop she wished to.
I've just printed a pile of joni chords, and I am going to learn some new songs. Maybe even try to learn some new tuning instead of just winging it. Miles of Aisles is so amazing.
What a lovely morning to just sit with coffee and crossword puzzles, listening to fuzzy old records and relaxing.
Everything is thawing! What strange weather. It smells great though.
This morning was our first walk that wasn't rushed, and I think Winnie appreciated the freedom to smell whatever pile of poop she wished to.
I've just printed a pile of joni chords, and I am going to learn some new songs. Maybe even try to learn some new tuning instead of just winging it. Miles of Aisles is so amazing.
What a lovely morning to just sit with coffee and crossword puzzles, listening to fuzzy old records and relaxing.
Everything is thawing! What strange weather. It smells great though.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
one, two, three, four
The other night Winnie crawled into bed with me, snuggled in close to me, and she was snoring lightly. In my sleeping haze it sounded like two old men having a quiet calm chat on a fuzzy old radio station.
I turned onto the winding road into Clarksburg in the early morning, the sun was lighting up the orchard rows where the trees were slick with ice, making them look like diamonds or just pure ice and no tree.
The water in Craigleith is the most amazing colours these days, frozen into waves in parts, and then just trying to be turquoise but too cold and too stormy maybe to make it.
This morning I awoke at 5am. I was driving in the dark singing along to Leonard Cohen and longing to be awake that early and headed somewhere other than work.
I turned onto the winding road into Clarksburg in the early morning, the sun was lighting up the orchard rows where the trees were slick with ice, making them look like diamonds or just pure ice and no tree.
The water in Craigleith is the most amazing colours these days, frozen into waves in parts, and then just trying to be turquoise but too cold and too stormy maybe to make it.
This morning I awoke at 5am. I was driving in the dark singing along to Leonard Cohen and longing to be awake that early and headed somewhere other than work.
Friday, January 22, 2010
morning ocean
I love mornings like today when you open your eyes to see bright sunlight spilling onto everything in your room.
Plus there is a whole pot of good coffee, and the cozy company of a snuggling puppy while I finish yesterday's too-easy crossword puzzle. I wish I could have today for all day, and not just this quiet morning before I give Winnie to babysitting Nanny and lumber off to work.
Last night I watched 'Ocean Deep' of the Planet Earth series and here are some amazing facts about life:
-the sonar of dolphins underwater leaves trails of iridescent bubbles
-rotten whale blubber looks almost like cotton candy as it's pulled from a carcass by a hungry crab
-there is a Manta Ray who's skeleton is visible through the opening of its mouth
-creatures in the deep ocean are living like the olden days
-a diving range is a tangible space even though it has no physical boundaries
-some corals look like frozen images of swinging glowsticks
-I wonder if some space rockets were modelled after sharks
-Swordfish, no, Sailfish look like they were modelled after Roman Empire battle helmets
-Blue Whales weight 200 tonnes, but it seems impossible to actually obtain a sense of that scale
Fascinating...
Plus there is a whole pot of good coffee, and the cozy company of a snuggling puppy while I finish yesterday's too-easy crossword puzzle. I wish I could have today for all day, and not just this quiet morning before I give Winnie to babysitting Nanny and lumber off to work.
Last night I watched 'Ocean Deep' of the Planet Earth series and here are some amazing facts about life:
-the sonar of dolphins underwater leaves trails of iridescent bubbles
-rotten whale blubber looks almost like cotton candy as it's pulled from a carcass by a hungry crab
-there is a Manta Ray who's skeleton is visible through the opening of its mouth
-creatures in the deep ocean are living like the olden days
-a diving range is a tangible space even though it has no physical boundaries
-some corals look like frozen images of swinging glowsticks
-I wonder if some space rockets were modelled after sharks
-Swordfish, no, Sailfish look like they were modelled after Roman Empire battle helmets
-Blue Whales weight 200 tonnes, but it seems impossible to actually obtain a sense of that scale
Fascinating...
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Starting again
Today I remembered that I had a blog. I tried to find it in the great wide internet, but I couldn't find it. I remembered the name of it, but somehow it still wouldn't turn up. I started a new one, and gave it the same name.
Tonight I am puppy-sitting, even though she's not really a puppy anymore. I am alone in the house for the first time in what feels like months, and probably is. I played guitar for the first time in months, and I sang out loud- so uncertain about how it will sound but just trying to hit some notes and try to remember how I sing. I love singing. I miss singing with my own boring strumming accompaniment as loud as I feel like. I wish that I could do it when people were home, but I can't seem to. Only when I am alone (or alone with only a puppy, who doesn't seem to mind).
This week I have adopted a new outlook and have adjusted my attitude. I came home from a wonderful visit of bigger towns and long lost friends, and I felt so re-energized, as if I'd been only half-working lately.
I baked some whole wheat bread, putting my lazy hands to use. I made lentil soup, and baked banana muffins, and listened to music in the kitchen. I tore off an old painting from a poorly constructed stretcher. The painting was on primed bedsheet, and was a red-toned collage image of Gord Downie singing into a microphone. I used to feel nostalgic about things like that and feel the want to hang on to them, but ripping it off felt good. I loved the way the stiff sheet crackled as it fell on the floor, released after seven years of stretchedness. It was a pretty bad painting, I can see that now.
Today I cut myself a piece of canvas from that $400 roll that has been hiding in the closet. I gave myself a blister from that big old staple gun, but I got it pulled across the wood and then primed it, and it is ready to be painted on. I feel this excitement that I haven't felt in a long time- about starting something new. I don't even know what I'm going to paint, but I have been thinking about the colours I am going to use. I wonder now why I have put this off for so long.
It is a strange feeling, to be somewhere where you didn't expect to find yourself. I have spent months now contemplating this misalignment, and beating myself up for not meeting my own expectation. Now I feel better. I don't know what really changed- maybe the sun just started shining a little more brightly in the past few days. A combination I guess, of all these amazing energies flowing back into me, and I am so thankful to be feeling so rosy again.
So yeah, starting again, as in, ending a stand still. It feels good to be moving.
Tonight I am puppy-sitting, even though she's not really a puppy anymore. I am alone in the house for the first time in what feels like months, and probably is. I played guitar for the first time in months, and I sang out loud- so uncertain about how it will sound but just trying to hit some notes and try to remember how I sing. I love singing. I miss singing with my own boring strumming accompaniment as loud as I feel like. I wish that I could do it when people were home, but I can't seem to. Only when I am alone (or alone with only a puppy, who doesn't seem to mind).
This week I have adopted a new outlook and have adjusted my attitude. I came home from a wonderful visit of bigger towns and long lost friends, and I felt so re-energized, as if I'd been only half-working lately.
I baked some whole wheat bread, putting my lazy hands to use. I made lentil soup, and baked banana muffins, and listened to music in the kitchen. I tore off an old painting from a poorly constructed stretcher. The painting was on primed bedsheet, and was a red-toned collage image of Gord Downie singing into a microphone. I used to feel nostalgic about things like that and feel the want to hang on to them, but ripping it off felt good. I loved the way the stiff sheet crackled as it fell on the floor, released after seven years of stretchedness. It was a pretty bad painting, I can see that now.
Today I cut myself a piece of canvas from that $400 roll that has been hiding in the closet. I gave myself a blister from that big old staple gun, but I got it pulled across the wood and then primed it, and it is ready to be painted on. I feel this excitement that I haven't felt in a long time- about starting something new. I don't even know what I'm going to paint, but I have been thinking about the colours I am going to use. I wonder now why I have put this off for so long.
It is a strange feeling, to be somewhere where you didn't expect to find yourself. I have spent months now contemplating this misalignment, and beating myself up for not meeting my own expectation. Now I feel better. I don't know what really changed- maybe the sun just started shining a little more brightly in the past few days. A combination I guess, of all these amazing energies flowing back into me, and I am so thankful to be feeling so rosy again.
So yeah, starting again, as in, ending a stand still. It feels good to be moving.
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