I’ve been trying to pick up with my “me” stuff again, from my art journaling, snail mail writing, reading, to my crafts. (I can’t believe I haven’t touched my tools since I got back from Manila, and I need to seriously get moving with the hybrid scrapbooking to make more cards. )
So I’ve been busy working on my first Art Journal entry for the year — teaser provided to my left — and I think with this 50% done, I can proceed to my next pieces before the weekend is out. This is actually a background piece I had done long ago (sometime third quarter 2011) which got tucked away with two other spreads. One, I had actually decided to totally discard (topic/subject matter was no longer relevant to me), and the other, I’ll work with one of these days. I might scale back yet again to smaller pieces, or maybe work on sections. The thing with sections is the flow of the work is not consistent. Or maybe I’ll just see where it goes. I’m thinking words. Or I might yet do something ambitious and attempt a scroll (!) one of these days. (Ambitious!)
I was looking out the window 41 storeys above Bryant Park the other day and I vowed to myself I will make regular trips to Central Park this year to document the changing of the seasons. I haven’t been there in ages! Winter has been rather fickle-minded this year — with spring seeming to rear it’s head in for a peek one moment, and then winter coming back with a vengeance the next.
Why do I take on so many projects when there are only so many hours in a day? I don’t pretend to do them all at the same time. I find pockets of vacant periods in my day and do something I like for a change. It helps me get back in touch with “me”, and in turn helps me to tune in to my world as I know it now with better clarity. (Like it helps me decide what’s for dinner faster than when I find myself torn between this and that dish.)
I love weekends because I look forward to Friday nights. It’s a special time for me to just be me and do things that mean something to me. I don’t go anywhere special — I stay home. I pick the things that I fancy at that particular Friday night and zoom in on that for the rest of the evening. I am able to savor watching my favorite shows on TV without anyone hijacking the remote and then stay up to the wee hours of the morning just relaxing. If I’m lucky, I even catch my bestfriend, Fe, online. (Such a treat!)
My Friday started a little late today — midnight. Here I am returning to this unfinished blogpost trying to pick up from where I left off.
My heart, though, is somewhere in mid-air. I haven’t quite decided what I’m doing tonight, and my “night” is halfway through.
Do you ever have one of those conversations about a subject matter that drifts off to another totally unrelated topic which somehow gets injected into the flow of words — you say something — the person you’re talking to reacts, and while the reaction was innocent, you catch something that makes you stop and think, “hmmmm.” There was a pause somewhere there, then a change of topics and it makes you wonder what caused the sudden shift in gears. You try not to think about it because it was off topic — but the unease lingers. “Hmmmmm…” you say again.
I’m just trying to intellectualize things too much like my friend, perhaps. Then it occurs to me that my innocent remark, said half jokingly, might have awakened a panic reaction that I had not anticipated. (“Hmmmmmm” again..and now I feel silly.)
Fridays are supposed to be simple. Fridays are supposed to be fun. I’ve had some fun tonight. Time to get the weekend going. Let me get back to zentangling and my “hmmmm” moment might disappear into the darkness.
My weekend has begun officially with the midnight hour tolling here in the big apple. I’m listening to this rare rendition of “Can We Still Be Friends” by the great Todd Rundgren and Darryl Hall which I recently discovered where else — on YouTube. Been listening to it over and over again for the last half hour. Used to be my song for a long-time ago ex boyfriend who, I believe, to this day, can’t quite seem to get this song’s message and why it was my song for him. Alas, we’re no longer friends.
It’s worth a listen to, so let me leave you with this find:
Pinay New Yorker 