Musings

Yes, those are remnants from lunch around her mouth. Didn't see those before I took the picture. The point is that she had her cut into an adorable little bob. I expected it to be a much more emotional decision since she's been growing her hair ever since she was born but I rediscovered that I'm not so sentimental about hair. If we grow tired of the bob, she can grow long hair again. Right now, everyone is in love with the new look.

I'm writing a novel. That's a big announcement, eh? Ever since I can remember people have told me that I should be a writer... my 7th grade English teacher, my freshman advisor, the President of my college, my husband, my best friend. And I guess I've always had the thought in the back of my head but the truth is creative writing is always awkward for me and I'm never comfortable with my words on the page. I wish I could say that I finally started due to some huge creative revelation but the real reason is far more prosaic. I have 16 more months to figure out how to make a real income working at home or else I need to face the reality of a more conventional full-time job. Sometimes that thought is attractive, more often it makes me shudder.

So... I started getting serious about this back in December, fleshing out the story, characters, eventually giving in and making a rough outline. I always did expect the first one to come to me in a vision and pow! There it would be written on the page but I finally realized that the darn thing won't write itself so I had to sit down and start. I've got one chapter finished, chapter two will hopefully be done by tonight. That doesn't sound like much but for me who has been procrastinating all these years, it's huge. I don't have great expectations for this but I'm hoping the process will be good and lead me to greater things.

Which leads me to some more random musings on creativity in general. I guess I've always thought I was creative in some weird way, you know, they throw those labels on you early on in school and they kind of stick. But I never thought I was artistic. Never. I've got more of the vulcan, pure logic kind of brain. And when I started scrapbooking, it was never for artistic purposes... just kind of a general creative outlet and a way to preserve our photographs which I am maniacal about. But somewhere along the way, my outlook on all of this has changed. I've suddenly got the urge to try some new things. To step outside of my comfort zone and play around a little bit.

I've just started The Artist's Way, which I got to spur me on in writing... and today, on my "artist's date" I found myself in the book store, browsing through the art section, picking up books on different mediums that I never really looked at before. I didn't have a plan to be there, I was just flitting around the store. And then I started wandering to other stores, without a real plan... looking at random things... Photoshop, glitter spray paint, fabric remnants. And finally I found myself in the middle of the art store, a huge box of watercolors and various sundries in my cart. I don't know what I'm going to do with them. But it felt right.

Maybe it's because the days are getting longer and there is more sunlight. Maybe it's because I stopped taking my anti-anxiety medication a few weeks ago. But lately I feel like I'm waking up after a long nap, stretching my arms and my neck as I look about to see what's been going on, what needs cleaned up, what needs a fresh coat of paint (literally and metaphorically!), what stuff can just be tossed out without further reflection. Spring cleaning of the mind I guess. It's a good feeling.