i have been a terrible blogger as of late. feeling generally uninspired. booo!
i spent a lovely Sunday just the other day at the Maxwell Street flea market downtown. i love perusing a buncha junk while sipping a bottle of pure cane sugar Coca-Cola imported from Mexico. the food vendors were yummy and it is a great way to soak up a different culture or three to break the monotony from a boring, civilized life. we also strolled through the shops in Wicker Park and sat for hours in a sidewalk cafe sipping mimosas and bloody marys and munching snacks.
after that sunny day, i am officially ready to kiss summer goodbye.
HELLO SEPTEMBER!!!!!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
uplift
the long days of commuting and dead-end work and financial strain and 'being stuck' can be unbearable for a number of reasons. for starters, one is not creating any new great memories to bank on during the hard days.
if one approaches each day with the idea that a New Memory Shall Be Created Each Day, then life is not thrown into the vast wastelands of what is called a RUT. this can be challenging with no extra money to spend nor access to those places and things that create new fond memories, but it can also be part of the game of spinning hope.
i recall back in my early twenties as adulthood fast approached being confronted with a plethora of ideas and options. i certainly can't go back and take a different road, nor can i confront those who used me and my energies to their advantageous prosperity. but i can take a deep breath and know not to make any further mistakes. there is some sick sort of strength to be found in that. maybe even a sense of pity that those stronger than me contributed to another's mental downfalls and illnesses. perhaps they feel shame. perhaps not.
'it is not my fault.' that's what I'm trying to say. i am not laying blame, but i am holding Those Who Were Stronger Than Me in my youth accountable for my terrible pitfalls.
the game-players, the never apprehended bosses, the tricksters of the 'art' world and even the doctors or practicioners who let me down rather than built my hope.
but i have a memory of climbing away to Paris and roaming those streets in solitude and thought. i conquered the bullies of my yesterdays and didn't let them defeat me and Paris had my back 100%. i picked myself up there and the universe brushed the debris from my back. they didn't win. i would never let them win.
Paris is no longer an option in my new life as hard-working wife and lower-middle class lifestyle in a beat-up apartment in Chicago. but the memory i made there, the LIFELONG memory i made there will always pull me out of a funk.
we'll always have Paris, as they say.
if one approaches each day with the idea that a New Memory Shall Be Created Each Day, then life is not thrown into the vast wastelands of what is called a RUT. this can be challenging with no extra money to spend nor access to those places and things that create new fond memories, but it can also be part of the game of spinning hope.
i recall back in my early twenties as adulthood fast approached being confronted with a plethora of ideas and options. i certainly can't go back and take a different road, nor can i confront those who used me and my energies to their advantageous prosperity. but i can take a deep breath and know not to make any further mistakes. there is some sick sort of strength to be found in that. maybe even a sense of pity that those stronger than me contributed to another's mental downfalls and illnesses. perhaps they feel shame. perhaps not.
'it is not my fault.' that's what I'm trying to say. i am not laying blame, but i am holding Those Who Were Stronger Than Me in my youth accountable for my terrible pitfalls.
the game-players, the never apprehended bosses, the tricksters of the 'art' world and even the doctors or practicioners who let me down rather than built my hope.
but i have a memory of climbing away to Paris and roaming those streets in solitude and thought. i conquered the bullies of my yesterdays and didn't let them defeat me and Paris had my back 100%. i picked myself up there and the universe brushed the debris from my back. they didn't win. i would never let them win.
Paris is no longer an option in my new life as hard-working wife and lower-middle class lifestyle in a beat-up apartment in Chicago. but the memory i made there, the LIFELONG memory i made there will always pull me out of a funk.
we'll always have Paris, as they say.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
ain't no cure for the summertime blues
Commute. Work. Commute. Veg out. Sleep. Do over each day.
This weekend in Chicago hosts a myriad of events: Lollapalooza, various street festivals and parades, concerts, etc. I shall be working and missing them. C'est la vie.
Had a great visit with French relatives visiting my city a few weeks ago. Always a pleasure being a tourist in one's own town.
Have put away the paints until the weather cools down a bit. Have a hard time regulating the tempurature in my makeshift studio aka the Living Room during these humid months. But I do plan to pick it back up come autumn.
Have been uninspired to write. Also blame the humidity.
I could make excuse after excuse but my creative outlets will always slap me on the wrists. Sometimes a little voice inside of me can really start beating me down to pick up the pen or paintbrush or guitar. I try to listen to it, really I do. But you know, those summertime blues. Working all the time yet no money to take spare time and turn it into adventure.
The hospital and doctor bills have been weighing me down as well. I have a pile of them sitting on the kitchen table and I pick them up every so often and pay a little on each one. Major headaches and stress.
This, too, shall pass. As they say.
Time for a song.
Maybe if I find some spectacular outfit, like, say, a cape, all the blues will go away.
This weekend in Chicago hosts a myriad of events: Lollapalooza, various street festivals and parades, concerts, etc. I shall be working and missing them. C'est la vie.
Had a great visit with French relatives visiting my city a few weeks ago. Always a pleasure being a tourist in one's own town.
Have put away the paints until the weather cools down a bit. Have a hard time regulating the tempurature in my makeshift studio aka the Living Room during these humid months. But I do plan to pick it back up come autumn.
Have been uninspired to write. Also blame the humidity.
I could make excuse after excuse but my creative outlets will always slap me on the wrists. Sometimes a little voice inside of me can really start beating me down to pick up the pen or paintbrush or guitar. I try to listen to it, really I do. But you know, those summertime blues. Working all the time yet no money to take spare time and turn it into adventure.
The hospital and doctor bills have been weighing me down as well. I have a pile of them sitting on the kitchen table and I pick them up every so often and pay a little on each one. Major headaches and stress.
This, too, shall pass. As they say.
Time for a song.
Maybe if I find some spectacular outfit, like, say, a cape, all the blues will go away.
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