Word association

I’ve decided to play a game.

I’ve written a bunch of random words on teeny tiny pieces of paper. Well, maybe not random, exactly. Just whatever the fuck came into my head as I was writing, really.

They will live in a box with an elephant on. Not relevant, but true nonetheless.

Every day (edit: okay, maybe not EVERY day), I will pick a random word out of the elephant box.

Then, I will write a blog post, using that word, on a predetermined topic or theme.

That’s the game.

It’s a word game.

Don’t tell me it’s not.

The power of a cupboard

Sometimes it’s best to just stuff your sin away in a cupboard and get on with your life.

My home, as I may have mentioned, has been something of a visual cacophony these past few months, and I couldn’t seem to get on top of it, or even really make any headway with it. Week after week my routine chores would fail to scratch the surface of the clutter that had become endemic to my abode, my thankless toiling at the kitchen sink or laundry basket fundamentally incapable of making anything look any cleaner or suitably arrayed. My vacuum cleaner broke in protest at having to skirt awkwardly around lumps of various classification. I was despondent, defeated, and prevented from practicing yoga by just a bit too much stuff on the floor.

Here’s the thing. I have a large, large cupboard. When I put things in the cupboard, they cease to exist. So I had pulled things out of the cupboard, to force myself to deal with them. And then I did not deal with them. In half a year, I probably dealt with three of them. Okay, maybe I’m not being fair to myself, maybe it was five. But there were more than five things that I had pulled out of the cupboard. Yet I could not put them back in the cupboard, because then I would not deal with them.

You see my predicament. The solution to my problems was the very thing I had told myself prevented me from solving my problems. And so I resisted my salvation for far too long.

…I finally put them back in the cupboard.

Now all is well. Life is a breeze. My Roomba is free to roam. I’m going to do some yoga tonight. I might even go for a run first, not because it’s related, just because I fucking well can. Sure, there will be a time when there is something I need, and it will take three hours of concerted effort to extract it from the cupboard, but that time is not now. What I needed in this moment was floor space.

Picture postcard

As I had failed to capitalise on the actual opportunity, I decided to pull the thread of my art show attraction in the comfort of my own bed.

And, no, I don’t mean by masturbating, I mean by lying in the dark coming up with ideas.

I followed the pathways my brain wanted to pursue. Naturally, the primary problem it wanted to solve was how to find this person, so that it could have a second chance at probably not talking to them. It wanted to find out who they were, so that it could orchestrate the best chance at happening upon them. Very familiar territory. I’m an internet sleuth in recovery, so I nixed that line of inquiry pretty sharpish. But then I have nothing to go on, my petulant brain did wail. Well, if you’ve got patience, Brain, there’s a pretty obvious way you might see him again – by attending a similar such art show in the future.

And then I had what I needed. Because, actually, something that is apparently far more engaging to my brain than devising plans to meet this stranger it liked the look of, is planning a piece to submit to the next art auction. Especially when it’s a silly, tongue-in-cheek piece that I can whip up in half an hour.

Much like emotions, I have learned that whims and attractions are best submitted to, rather than repressed. So long as you can set your expectations and interpretations aside. Because, at least in my experience, they don’t usually take you where you think they will, but they definitely take you somewhere you want to go.

And those destinations may not turn out to be satisfying to anyone other than yourself. But I think we, as a collective, need to get a whole lot more comfortable with that outcome. And I, as an individual, most certainly do.

Riding the wave

Upon my bed is a pile of yarn.

That feels more like the start of a poem than a blog post, but I like it.

One of my favorite things to do is start creative projects. And, like many people who most enjoy starting creative projects, my follow through leaves something to be desired. Which means I have more raw material than I have ever transformed into finished product. And this has only been kept in check by ruthless routine purges, otherwise I would have surely drowned in fabric and paper by now. I got the yarn out because my son was amazed to learn I can knit. So I figured it was high time I knit him something for Christmas.

Out poured the yarn. And with it out poured all my wildest knitting fantasies. All the ambitious projects I’ve kept swirling perpetually in a space outside of space, and all the delicious inspiration they send coursing through my veins.

I am overwhelmed with opportunity. Transfixed by possibility. I don’t have time to make them all. Where should I begin?

I unearthed this part of myself to make a present for my son, so it’s only right I start there. And, let’s be very clear, it’s been a minute since you actually, you know, made anything. So rein in the ambition.

Hooded scarf with rainbow dino plates it is, then. Good. Now ride that ecstatic, inspired momentum until it escapes while you’re washing the dishes.

Of course you are

So, I’m getting into the supporting cast with my character profiles and, boy, the things they’re revealing about themselves. Like, I’m not coming up with this shit, it’s just flowing out of the recesses, but it all makes so much sense!

Of course you’re avoidant because you have anger issues that got you into serious trouble before and now the only way you know to deal with that is to withdraw before anyone can get to you!

Of course you’re technically homeless!

Of course you have an interest in leatherwork.

Stories are so much fun.