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I am a pendulum swinging between
fear and confidence.
Last night I took Vince to a new park
for a walk. He was, of course, very
excited and pulling me along faster
than I wanted to go. We walked along
a little grass trail and I noticed two trees
growing side by side. At the base of their
trunks, their branches reached out to one
another like an embrace, and it formed a
tiny little room. A small place, sheltered
from the sun, with a dirt floor and wiry
branch walls. I ducked under a limb and
went in, and suddenly I was 12.
I remember riding bikes to the woods
a block away from our house with my
brother. We'd find little wooded cubbies
and pretend we were scouting pioneers.
Or that we lived on our own, sans parents.
Or maybe we were military outcasts, hiding
out, waiting to make our escape. We'd
pretend for hours, catching salamanders
as pets, and rolling roly-poly bugs around
in our fingers.
It felt exhilarating to be encased in the
tree-room, in the dense woods. Each root
wound around to make a bench seat or a
protecting gargoyle. And each day we fearlessly
went further into the woods, making more
discoveries.
All those memories rushed back to me last
night by just being in the same kind of little
tree-room. And it was still just as wonderful
and beautiful as it was when I was a kid.
It got me to thinking about exploring and
discovering now. Sometimes, instead of
being pure excitement and exhilaration,
it's scary and paralyzing. We worry so much
about the outcome. Will it be okay? Will I
survive? And admittedly, there is a little more
at stake, but I don't want to be paralyzed.
I don't want to be held back by fear now,
only doing the "safe" thing. I want to plow into
unknown woods and feel the rush of discovery.
I want to pull myself out of my comfort zone now,
discovering new things and growing. Because
I personally feel like the comfort zone is even
scarier than the unknown. To be bored and
stagnant is a worse fate for me. To move
along and learn and experience...That's what
I want. So that's what I'll do.
Since I've been so consumed by the
book, I've neglected other major areas
of my life. (The book, by the way, is called
Denise's Mold. It's about a little girl who
grows mold...that's all I'm allowed to say
about it right now. Oh, and it'll be available
in March. Yeah, as in 8-months-away-March.
Poo. I can't believe I forgot to mention what
the book was called before. Sheesh...you
see what I mean?!)
Anyway, back to the other areas of life.
The one I'm referring to right now is my
house. I haven't tended to my house in
a while. To the point where I found a
SPIDER NEAR MY TOOTHBRUSH this
morning. Oh man, that's really really really
grody. Grody Toady. I schmooshed it
like nobody's business, of course (the
spider, not the toothbrush). And then
I did the squirmy get-off-me dance.
So, it's time. It is officially time to do some
spring cleaning. Nitty gritty, down and dirty
cleaning. I am going to do whatever you
need to do (?) to hardwood floors to maintain
their lovliness. I'm going to clean all the
windows. I'm going to go through every
room, one by one, and clear out anything
I haven't used or loved recently.
And it'll feel so good. I'll do the happy-dance.
Over-decorated Float, please!
Bring on the parade. The confetti.
The noise makers. And the face paint.
Because (drum roll)....I finished the book.
Yay! It is done and complete. All I have to do
is send it off to the publisher. I'm waiting to do
that till tomorrow so I can sit and stare at it all
for a bit. (And of course, to make sure I don't
want to tweak anything...I'm a dirty tweaker.)
I feel so grand. I think I'll treat myself to a very
large bowl of butter pecan icecream with
caramel on top. I may even throw on a few
marshmallows, I'm just that crazy.
The end. (I just had to say that because
I reached the end. The end.)
I survived the eye surgery. I'll just
say that up front. But woh, it wasn't
what I expected at all. Everyone said
it was no big deal. It's nothing. But
I disagree. It's wasn't painful, just
really disorienting and uncomfortable.
For those of you who have queasy
stomachs about all things ocular, I
suggest you stop reading now.
For those of you still here, let's continue.
Now I don't know if there's some sort
of "don't tell" club conspiracy going on.
Or maybe it's one of those things like
childbirth...you forget the pain over time
to the point where you'll have a second
child. (I hear.) But I am choosing not to be
a part of either of those parties. I'm going
to tell it like it is. So here goes:
First you enter the doctor's building and
you realize what you are really paying for.
Huge, extravagant, blinding windows
(c'mon, people, lasik people are light
sensitive after surgery). So yeah, big
windows and fancy desks and marble
floors. Then you wait around for about
2 hours to go into your final eye exam.
That takes two whole minutes and then
you wait for two more hours. They finally
give you a ridiculous shower cap and paper
booties to put on and lead you to the last
room where you wait for another decade.
A nice nurse comes in a swabs your
eyelids with iodine, (so now you look
even sillier) and tells you that you'll
be next.
You listen to it happening to the person
who went befor you. It's not silent, like
I pictured. Instead, there are multiple men
in there counting down and the laser
makes a dreadful beeping, pulsing noise,
and there is some kind of air pump refilling
noisily. (Think machine gun.) Then the
patient stumbles out looking dazed with
eyes like beats. She smiles at me and said
it was no big deal. (See? the conspiracy begins.)
Dr: Penelope?
(I nod)
Dr: You're next.
(I frown)
I get up from my chair and walk into the
dark room with large equipment in it.
I am asked to lay down in a dental-chair-
looking-thing. As soon as I lift my feet,
someone fills my eyes with numbing drops.
I wonder how long it will take for my
eyes to not feel anything. And before
I finish that thought, another person
tapes my left eye shut and holds my
head down. Then I'm told to look into
the blinky orange light. They tap my
eye with a brush. Yep, numb. Next they
grabbed what felt like a metal oil filter
and told me I'd feel some pressure.
SOME?! It felt like the pushed the thing
directing into my skull. (Remember...
none of this hurts, it's just uncomfortable.)
My eyeball is just hanging out there
and I'm staring at the blinky orange light
and the men start counting. Chanting.
Five, four, three, two, one...
They rip the oil filter out of my eye and tape
the lid down before I had a chance to die.
Then onto the left eye, where it all happens
again. I think the left eye was worse because
I knew what to expect and I actually blacked out.
Anyway. So you're done. I stumbled out with
my beat eyes and said to the next person:
"You'll do fine." (I swear. It just slipped out.)
And the doctor pushed me into the next room
where he taped plasic bug eyes to my face and
told me I did great and to have a nice day.
I wanted to cry. It all happened so fast.
I was so confused.
Then I went home and slept for 12 hours.
That was two days ago. Yesterday my eyes
felt like they had dirty contacts on them.
But I could see perfectly. 20/15 the
doctor tells me.
Today I'm feeling better. I've been working
like a mad-woman on the book, so my
eyes are a little dry. But holy crap. I can
see for miles. I can see all the time. There's
never a time where things are blurry.
It's like seeing the sun for the first time.
Just amazing.
So, it all boils down to this: It's bad, but
only for a whopping 5 minutes tops.
Then you have a lifetime of perfect vision.
Then end.
Oh yeah...remind to me punch the next
person I see with natural perfect vision.
(Just kidding.)
Tomorrow at three I'm trading in my
old eyeballs for brand spanking new
ones. I was tired of my old ones not
seeing properly. Blurriness all the
time, looking around glasses constantly,
and squinting like mad in the bright
sun. Yes, tomorrow at three I get Lasik.
Before you ask, no I've not seen the
Jessica Simpson episode where she
gets her eyes lasered. I don't have
television at my house. (I'd never get
anything done!)
I'm a little nervous. I've heard what
the process is like. And, frankly, I'm
not a big fan of having my eyes pried
open for any amount of time. But it'll
be worth it. The thing I'm most excited
about is sunglasses. Oh, the many
pairs of cheapy, truck stop sunglasses
that have lured me in the past, only
to be denied. Now I will get you.
You just wait, dear sunglasses.
So, wish me luck. I hope to not be blind.
That'd really put a damper on this whole
illustration thing.
Synchronized Running Out of Stuff
I'm insanely busy right now. Every
minute of everyday is filled with
something. I remind myself to breathe.
To go make a cup of coffee. To tink
happy tawts. Last night right in the
middle of a wash I ran out of red and
white...at the SAME TIME! How does
this happen? To suddenly run out of
two very important colors simultaneously?
I don't know. I guess I'm so into what
I'm doing that I forget other things. I had
to make an emergency trip to the art
supply store, but then I got side-tracked
in there. How does one concentrate when
there are textured papers to feel, color
pencils to sniff, and erasers to knead?
I don't consider it wasted time though...
I call it research. (wink, wink)
In other news, last night gave us a rain
storm of middle-of-the-ocean caliber.
Winds were a-blowin' and howlin', rains were
a-beatin' down sideways, windows were
a-rattlin' in their frames. It was something.
Specifically: something that left me needing
some sleep.
Ah well. Maybe I'll go sniff some glue to
wake up a bit. On second thought, a nap
sounds good. (Are morning naps allowed?)
Why is it that sometimes it seems like
people have more confidence in you
than you do in yourself? They trust you
implicitly to do something (and do it well),
but you wonder if you can even squeak a
mediocre thing out.
Boy, that burns me up.
Creative Tornado and Fire Fears
Lately I've been a one-woman creative
force. I have less than two weeks to
finish the book. I feel kind of pressured,
but it's a get-down-and-dirty pressure.
I am working my arse off, and it's fun.
I love to see how the image transforms
from a thought, to a sketch, to an ink
drawing, to the finished product. A little
miracle every time.
My studio is a wreck. There are paints
and papers and brushes laying every-
where. I can't find my eraser...my pencils
are strewn about. But it's lovely. I'll sort
it all out when the book is done.
Last night I took a break for Colin's
birthday. We met friends for dinner
and had awesome wings and beers.
Twas yummy.
Later we went home and had a bonfire.
It was so peaceful and warm. Crackling
orange sparks floating up out of the blue
ashes. I decided it was the perfect time
to burn my fears and concerns. I do this
occasionally and it always seem to
help me let things go. Here's how: I write
down each of my cares onto long strips
of paper. (I do this in pen so it feels
permanent.) I then take each strip and fold
it up with all my attention and care, focusing
on what it says. Then it's time to let it go.
I toss it into the fire and watch it catch and
be consumed. It can't come back. It's gone
forever. And it works. It gives me relief and I
feel like I can let it go.
If you can't have a bonfire in your yard or if
you don't have a yard, you can just use a
candle and a jar to achieve the same effect.
It works.
Happy birthday, Colin!
This is going to be a great year
for you. I just know it.
It's late. I should be asleep, but my
mind wouldn't stop wandering...
different paths of my life my thoughts
wanted to explore consciously. I was
jumbled...but I lay there smiling up at
the ceiling I couldn't see, wanting to
capture this feeling. So I'm here, in the
dim light of the screen.
What I want to capture:
Right now I feel empowered. I am
not afraid. Actually, I am quite calm.
I know the boat will rock and I will
just rock with it, and it makes me
excited for the waves, even though
I know they will frighten me when they
get here. I am prepared. I so wish I
could keep that feeling in my pocket
for when the waves arrive.
Calm water...I was watching a movie
earlier tonight, my husband couldn't
keep his eyes open. I layed a pillow on
my lap so he could sleep. And I was
distracted from the flickering movement
because he looked so peaceful.
So beautiful. So child-like. I could see
him as a little blonde boy and it made
my insides just dance. I feel so lucky
to be where I am. To be in love. And
to feel safe. And to feel centered in
my life. I don't know how to say it
to make anyone understand, or if that
is even important. Maybe not. I just
feel fortunate that I am here, now, and
I can experience this. To not take it
for granted...
Not taking it for granted. That's why I'm
here in the dark. The whole world is asleep
and I am a small person looking up at the
stars that no one else sees, making a small
wave that no one else feels. And that's okay
with me because I am content. I am content.
Sweet dreams...
This weekend I wish you exactly what
you need. Personally, I need a weekend
of prolificness and shoving that
procrastination monkey off my shoulder.
Others need different things. Some may
need to stay in and get rest to feel better.
Others need to go out and unwind. And
others may need to just catch up on some
dishy magazines and buy new shoes.
Who knows. Whatever it is that you need,
though, I wish it for you.
Cheers.
Of Note:
Been making shampoo mohawks
with my new short hair. Whew!
Watched Office Space for the zillionth
time last night. I'll never get over it.
It's a sunshiny, beautiful day and
I am dying to go enjoy it.
Keri's engaged.
Lori's pregnant.
Ran across this quote:
"I saw the angel in the marble and carved
until I set him free."
-Michelangelo
Merry Thursday!
The Chop
Before
After
The haircut was not a big, traumatic
episode. Not at all. Actually, I had to
talk the hairdresser into cutting it
shorter. I didn't want any transition.
No taking it easy. Just give me the chop,
I said.
At first it was a little scary because
the hairdresser I go to always styles
my thick hair really poofy. Big and
round. And that's just not me. I am
a whatever-it-looks-like-in-2-minutes
kind of person. Not big. Natural.
As soon as I got home I wet it down and
pushed it back with my hands. Ah. Much
better.
So, now I am really happy with it. It's
messy, easy to handle, and won't
take a gallon of shampoo to clean.
That's what I'm talking about.
I AM CHOPPING OFF ALL MY HAIR
TOMORROW NIGHT! Yay! I'm so
excited. 11 inches, to be exact.
11!
11!
I'm going to be light and fluffy!
I can't stop typing exclamation marks!
!
p.s. 11
I was sitting in the passenger seat when
I noticed them. I looked out the window
and felt my heart leap from my chest.
I yelled out "oh!" and I stared as I watched
them all slide by. Queen Anne's Lace
peppered the side of the highway. White,
imperfect circles whirring by, looking
like a majestic abstract painting. It took
my breath away.
Amazing.
***
On a completely unrelated note: I am so
proud of myself because this weekend
I finished all the sketches for Denise's Mold
(the children's book). Big pat on the back
for Lope for not procrastinating.
Objective truth?
Why do we let perception lead us down
paths that we know are just illusions
if we'd just think objectively about it?
Who knows. What I do know is that it
bugs me. I mean really gets under
my skin.
The artist's temperament is fickle and
passionate. At least for me it is. I fall
deeply and madly in love with things.
I find a new artist and research about
their lives and their work and their
processes. I buy posters with their stuff
on them. I make pictures of them. I crush.
Hard. Hell, I have a room dedicated to
Amedeo Modigliani. No, I'm not kidding.
Come over and see for yourself. But it's
not just artists. It's objects. It's feelings.
It's scents. It's life. It's all maddeningly
beautiful to me. I want to touch it and
smell it and roll it around in my mouth.
Savor and hold tightly and feel it in my
bones...
But it goes away sometimes and everything
feels SO DAMN hopeless. There is a block
of some sort. In the same degree that I
loved that snail I spied on the sidewalk,
I feel like there is no hope. That we're all
just doomed for failure. And what's the point
anyway when we all just die at the end?
Really. Even if one became homeless and
lost their legs and became a dragging
drunk, what's the big deal?
And you know what sends me in these
spirals? Fear. It's fear. I know it. I don't
need a book to tell me that. Because as
much as I say "yeah, we'll just die", I'm
scared as hell about that. I want it to be
okay. I want to feel more of the crushing
love feeling. I want to know that THINGS
WILL WORK OUT! I don't want to feel
hopeless and flailing and scared.
And then I stop.
I breathe.
I realize that, yes, I am feeling hopeless
now, and it will fade like it has every single
time in the past. This will follow suit.
It's just my perception. And I try to
look at it objectively. But is there really
an objective perspective? Isn't that an
oxymoron? I don't know.
I wish I knew if there was a middle ground
of seeing things. Some higher "this is what
is absolutely true" view that I can
reach for in time of elation and in times
of misery.
The truth of the situation.
But does all that really matter anyway? I mean...
it wouldn't change the fact that I fall in love,
and it wouldn't change the fact that I fall
into emotional dumpsters. Or would it.
I'd love to hear what you think about this
topic. Offer some clarity (or more confusion
if that's how you see it).
These pictures really put me back
into the moment of the wedding.
I can seep back into the colors
and remember vividly the feelings
and the love I felt that day.
So click on the image above for
the wedding album (abridged).
Enjoy.
Counting blessings:
- I have a children's book in the works.
(I was on a roll the other day and sketched
nearly half of it in one sitting.)
- The weather has been so nice, I've been
able to ride my motorcycle around downtown.
Zoomy-lope.
- Bing cherries. Hoo-wee!
- Afternoon baseball games with noodle
salad and soda pop.
- An upcoming trip to South Carolina. I plan
to just be a beach bum and maybe go
treasure hunting.
- Being able to care for my sick Colin.
(There's a porcupine in his throat.)
- Contemplating chopping the locks off.
Will I be brave or just stick it out?
- Leaving the windows open and listening
to the cricket concert.
Do you have blessings to count?
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© Penelope Illustration. Stealing
is not nice. |
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