Simplicity

The simple things are the easiest to forget. How many nostalgia posts did I write describing the Euphoria of being in the sun, under the clouds, on a blanket, with a book? music? small art project? notebook and pen? Hmm... not sure I want you to answer that. I've been paranoid about spending money because I am convinced that, some how, I've magically (or not) lost all concept of fiscal responsibility. The direct result of that is that I have done nothing all Summer. So I ask you (as a proxy to asking myself):

1. Why aren't you out reading books on a beach? under a shady tree in the park?
There is a veritable library of reading material in the storage unit. I've not reread Anne of Green Gables as is my tradition. Nor have I touched Dragons of Summer Flame, the Narnia Chronicles or (new tradition) Heat Wave. Why? It doesn't cost anything. It is a simple pleasure that I have always enjoyed so why am I denying myself?

2. Why aren't you writing blog posts on a beach? under a shady tree in a park?
There is a lot of stuff in my head. Some of it crap and some of it is really good. But how do you weed out the crap from the kernel if you aren't writing somewhere that you can leave the phone and the rest of the world behind? Long hand writing lets you get the emotional stuff out of the way. The computer is not immediately expressive. By that I mean if you are pissed and want to write in big letters then you do so as the feeling strikes. With the 'puter you have to highlight then find the button to do the thing that you want to do and then hope that you told it to do the thing that you want to do instead of turning cartwheels in Red Square while wearing lederhosen. And if your computer hasn't done that to you then count yourself blessed. Mine is a sadistic bastard. All the more reason to flesh thoughts out on paper before committing them to the elephantine Internet. Plus you wouldn't be subjected to the ramblings of a confused and tired woman who keeps punishing herself without thought to the collateral damage she inflicts. That was an oblique apology for the last few posts. Gibbs smack me if you believe apologies are a sign of weakness and let's move on.
It doesn't cost anything to sit somewhere with pen and paper... except that I am rather indulgent about my writing materials. Puh-lease! I'd love a Waterman cartridge pen with a funky self indulgent personal barrel design but that ain't happening til I win the lottery. Its a therapeutic thing that you can do to get rid of the crap others try to saddle you with. For creative types it gets the stories out so that they can leave room in the brain pan for other things to chow up and beg to be manifested... like the stuff I want to write for money.
So why am I not doing that? Am I mad that I can't be at dad's? Am I so hung up on one location that I can't go out and find those sweet spots that pepper Northern Michigan? Probably. D'oh!

3. Why aren't you listening to music on the beach/ under a shady tree in the park?
I have 7 CDs worth of German music to learn that will hopefully help me keep the vocabulary in my head so that I can go to Germany sometime in the not to distant future. So why have I not put batteries in the portable CD player and gone to listen and learn on the beach? under a shady tree in the park? It is one of the things that makes me happy. Matti's music makes me happy. I've spent the last year trying to figure out how to be more of a social animal to the neglect of what makes me who I am. I am a geek. I spend Summers reading, listening, writing and charging that internal (sometimes infernal) battery so that I can spend the Winter creating things that will hopefully make other people happy.

4. I could be spending free time in the library doing more family research for free. I love the library for lots of reasons. One of which is that I am surrounded by books and the energy of learning. There isn't a lot of room for socializing in the library. And it is free.


Why am I not doing those things while I have the weather to enjoy it? I don't know. Like I said. I may have myself convinced that I don't deserve to have time to enjoy my life because it is such a mess right now. Or maybe I've stupidly let others convince me that punishment and self sacrifice is the way to show God that I am sorry enough to be blessed with a solution of miraculous proportions. I seem to be surrounded by people who want me to believe that all there should be in my life is sweat because I don't have a degree to give me the freedom to sit at work and play with my farm or mafia all day. Those same people also think that all there should be in my life is sweat because the things that I want to get paid to do look easy and fun. Art and writing is not easy. And there are a lot of times that it isn't fun. It's nice to not sweat. But it can be so frustrating that you want to be anything but an artist or writer.

Why am I listening to those kinds of dream killers?
I have a library at my disposal and one of the most beautiful places on earth to enjoy. And I have a boyfriend to take some of the sting of loneliness away from those solitary pursuits. So from here on out... the simple things. Reading. Writing. Music.

And what simple, cheap things are you going to do to refuel yourself?