Always A Bridesmaid, Never An Artist......

"The stars would love to tell you what's ahead for you this week, but they've decided they'd rather wait and see the look on your face when it all happens."

In the process of SLOWLY emerging from my wee shell, and we're talking the speed of dried molasses here, it's becoming more and more evident I don't have a plan. I'm mostly referring to the direction of my ramblings, though one could easily copy & paste that sentiment just about anyplace in my life. I genuinely enjoy writing but I'm severely lacking cohesion, direction, purpose and - let's be frank - talent. It's one of those glaring truths that continually drives me back into fits of deleting all previous comments, cracking down on the security and even changing the bloody URL address of this thing. Why do I care? Well clearly I don't as I do nothing to remedy the situation nor do I necessarily lose much sleep over it. How's THAT for a disclaimer? So now that all of this is out in the open, off we go!




Yesterday, it's altogether possible someone slipped horseradish in my coffee as I was on a hellbent mission to change the appearance of my blog. I quickly began panicking when I realized I was in over my head. My coding was off and considering I had zero preconceived notions of what was to transpire, the whole project fell asleep at the wheel and slammed into a brick wall. I had barely crossed the starting line and I was up in arms - now looking for shortcuts to plagiarize others' brilliance to splash on my uninspired canvas. While licking my pitiful wounds, I thought back to the simpler days of youth...



 I can remember being 3 or 4 years old...laying on my back on my parent's bed.... staring at the intricate and unintentional patterns of the textured plaster ceiling above. I would spend hours (which most likely equates to a solid 15 minutes in "people time") watching forms jump to life from the lines. I grew increasingly mesmerized with the images and painstakingly sought to remember each segment of the total picture... to brand it into my brain so I could regurgitate it back onto paper for the world to see. I'd like to think I was once innocent enough to aspire to simply share the magic with the world as opposed to seeking credit for such. As it turned out, I could never recreate it. My attempts fell so utterly short of the optical adventure just experienced, I would gently collapse to my knees. Defeated. Worthless.



This experience would repeat over and over and over again... the gypsy sneering at me through the faux marble counter top in a bathroom... fanciful beasts in the clouds, foreboding and mechanical structures in a wooden floor plank or delicate weeping willows stretched across a swatch of fabric.... My mind would ache taking all this in with no means of pouring it back out into permanency. It seems I was a self-loathing, stressed out and immensely melodramatic creature long before I even learned to write!



Moreover, I have always faced the battle between the hypothetical imagination of my mind and the actual capability of my hands. This theme has carried well over into my professional life, my parenting style, my fleeting hobbies - hell, even my driving! It all leaves me in a mess of exhaustive frustration. I take heart in one thing though - idiotic persistence. From time to time, I'll lace up the 'ol roller skates and give it another go. Be it fanciful notions of redesigning this blog, attempting to model something out of ridiculously pricey sculpting clay, or... well.... getting behind the wheel *snicker*.  I amuse myself to no end imagining myself as a rat in a maze in the name of science. Nothing would ever be so much as hypothesized if dependent on the results of my actions. Perhaps to that end, I've already won? Dream on, Kitty.... Dream on.

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Kitty

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Always A Bridesmaid, Never An Artist......

"The stars would love to tell you what's ahead for you this week, but they've decided they'd rather wait and see the look on your face when it all happens."

In the process of SLOWLY emerging from my wee shell, and we're talking the speed of dried molasses here, it's becoming more and more evident I don't have a plan. I'm mostly referring to the direction of my ramblings, though one could easily copy & paste that sentiment just about anyplace in my life. I genuinely enjoy writing but I'm severely lacking cohesion, direction, purpose and - let's be frank - talent. It's one of those glaring truths that continually drives me back into fits of deleting all previous comments, cracking down on the security and even changing the bloody URL address of this thing. Why do I care? Well clearly I don't as I do nothing to remedy the situation nor do I necessarily lose much sleep over it. How's THAT for a disclaimer? So now that all of this is out in the open, off we go!




Yesterday, it's altogether possible someone slipped horseradish in my coffee as I was on a hellbent mission to change the appearance of my blog. I quickly began panicking when I realized I was in over my head. My coding was off and considering I had zero preconceived notions of what was to transpire, the whole project fell asleep at the wheel and slammed into a brick wall. I had barely crossed the starting line and I was up in arms - now looking for shortcuts to plagiarize others' brilliance to splash on my uninspired canvas. While licking my pitiful wounds, I thought back to the simpler days of youth...



 I can remember being 3 or 4 years old...laying on my back on my parent's bed.... staring at the intricate and unintentional patterns of the textured plaster ceiling above. I would spend hours (which most likely equates to a solid 15 minutes in "people time") watching forms jump to life from the lines. I grew increasingly mesmerized with the images and painstakingly sought to remember each segment of the total picture... to brand it into my brain so I could regurgitate it back onto paper for the world to see. I'd like to think I was once innocent enough to aspire to simply share the magic with the world as opposed to seeking credit for such. As it turned out, I could never recreate it. My attempts fell so utterly short of the optical adventure just experienced, I would gently collapse to my knees. Defeated. Worthless.



This experience would repeat over and over and over again... the gypsy sneering at me through the faux marble counter top in a bathroom... fanciful beasts in the clouds, foreboding and mechanical structures in a wooden floor plank or delicate weeping willows stretched across a swatch of fabric.... My mind would ache taking all this in with no means of pouring it back out into permanency. It seems I was a self-loathing, stressed out and immensely melodramatic creature long before I even learned to write!



Moreover, I have always faced the battle between the hypothetical imagination of my mind and the actual capability of my hands. This theme has carried well over into my professional life, my parenting style, my fleeting hobbies - hell, even my driving! It all leaves me in a mess of exhaustive frustration. I take heart in one thing though - idiotic persistence. From time to time, I'll lace up the 'ol roller skates and give it another go. Be it fanciful notions of redesigning this blog, attempting to model something out of ridiculously pricey sculpting clay, or... well.... getting behind the wheel *snicker*.  I amuse myself to no end imagining myself as a rat in a maze in the name of science. Nothing would ever be so much as hypothesized if dependent on the results of my actions. Perhaps to that end, I've already won? Dream on, Kitty.... Dream on.

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