All the way, then back again...

Sigh.


I have been writing, just not here.  I have windows live writer - or some such equivalent - which holds more entries than this one (even though it looks the same and publishes to this one with and internet connection and the push of a button).

First, let's do a short-form, catch-up:

Kitten's 14, has a different boyfriend who both Wolf and I love, is taller than me and still brings more sunshine into my world than anything; I finally cut my hair... to my shoulders (haha haha) but have yet to do anything even remotely funky; we've burned through another business (since my last news-y post) and I'm done with those, now.  I don't have the constitution for dealing with contractors or big construction companies... and I'm done with being the little guy, because the little guy can't do anything when the big guy refuses to pay, steals your tools, finally returns some of them when threatened with police action, but returns them with cut cords and missing parts and screws where screws have no right to be... Y'know, if that kind of thing happened in real life.  (Yup.  It kinda makes a person go into hiding from everything/one that she legally can.)

So, now that I can see the dismal end of that particular adventure I'm ready to turn my face into the sun.  I haven't felt warmth for long enough that it feels like the memory of a movie viewed in childhood.  Feels like.  Bear with me.  I'm dozy.  

And I'm drawing again.  That was the point of this entry. I'm not only just drawing but people are asking me about prices and I have one commission in the works, with 2-4 more in possibility-land!  Whoa, hey?!

Day Six - The stuff we carry never gets lighter...

Dirty mirrors and work clothes. 

By 2002, Kitten was four and I found myself in the midst of a re-kindling.  After two years of only telephone and email contact, Wolf and I had a face-to-face visit.  It lasted ten days, out here on the Island, and resulted in Kitten and my relocation to Ontario to create our new family.  Why Ontario?  Well, Wolf was the sole proprietor of a thriving company which wouldn't have taken well to uprooting.  

 ... yes, this does have something to do with hair and my issues therewith...

My bleach phase was on hiatus and I hadn't done anything more than remove the remaining white tips from my hair.  Ontario weather is brilliant!  I grew up in arid Alberta and, therefore, didn't know my hair was curly.  The constant Hamilton humidity meant twelve hours of air-drying time after I washed my hair.  I finally had a wash-n-go 'do!

So, the very air was my friend, and my hair was growing ridiculously fast.  My life was fresh and new.  I was ready to start playing again.  There was only one problem.  Wolf was the sole proprietor of a thriving company in Hamilton, Ontario - I was 'Dharma' to Wolf's 'Greg,' but with less self worth and more guilt and a martyr complex that beat all.  I was bound to the rules of upper-middle class society.  No visible piercings.  No funky colours.  Buy yourself a nice dress...

And then, two years had passed.  My hair was mid-back length and shapeless.  Wolf was afraid to let me cut it, so I let myself get talked in to a 'complimentary birthday haircut' by our stylist friend.  Oops.  I asked for long layers, she layered it.  I walked out with diamond head.  You know, where the fullest part of the hair is at the jaw line and it tapers both up and down from there?  Well, I stuck with that cut for about two weeks (see a pattern here?) before I grabbed the scissors.  Wolf said he'd feel better if he cut it, as he could see the back of my head.  So, he cut it.  That one didn't even last 48 hours before I fixed it.

Two years later I cut off several inches in an attempt to clear up my split ends.  I swore I'd start trimming in every couple of months, but it was already too late.  The obsession was growing without my realizing.  While I was busy being resentful, I neglected to see the strengthening correlation between my okay-ness and my hair.  And my hair got longer.  Two more years later and I had six inches removed.  It was back to an inch above my bra strap.  And my hair got longer...

I'm standing at the crossroads, nine years from my last play-with-my-hair day.  My locks are long enough that they get caught under my leg when I get into the truck.  They are badly damaged from years of sweater collars and it takes me almost an hour to get shampoo and conditioner through and then rinsed out of them.  It's like having a baby.  Everything has become difficult: sleeping, showering, cleaning, working... it's always in the way.  Even if I put it up...  It takes way too much energy, and it isn't energy I want to spend.

Are you asking how it got to this point?  Why I didn't cut it sooner, if it was bugging me so much?  Because it's long.  It's really, really long.  In a world where long hair is defined as 'below the shoulders,' it has become more than novelty.  It's a defining characteristic.  A part of me points out how pathetic that is.  I'm a great person.  I'm kind and likable.  None of those things is effected by the length of my hair.  My value or 'specialness' isn't decreased because I don't have long, unhealthy, resented hair.

Besides, it's not like it won't grow back...

Day One

A thought occurred to me, just after posting my last entry.  I really enjoyed the last NaBloPoMo in which I participated.  I loved the commitment of sitting down in stillness, at least once per day, to focus on writing something - anything.  So, I decided to commit myself to a little piece of sanity, whether I'm an official part of the annual event or not.

I'm not, for the record.  The universe took me to task for overusing one particular excuse and I found my quiet, only-child household 'enlivened' by a very high energy, thirteen-year-old, oldest-brother-of-four!  I was gifted with the opportunity to learn what "chaotic" truly meant!

I have to get Kitten to dance class and just might have a moment, once we return, to add a bit more detail to this too-brief illustration.

Facing the future with... something,

Beth

Whew.

When life is a bit calmer I'll write. I'm sure I've said that before. The thing is, I avoid writing when things are messed up because I refused to let this become a whine blog, like my last one, filled to the top with negativity, depression and drama. The thing is, the farther I get from my last post, the more I find myself thinking about how funny the story has been - drama included - and wish I had kept up a running commentary of the whole thing!

Examples?

• My last entry found me packing a three bedroom house. Not too big a deal aside from the sheer volume of crap that a family can accumulate over the course of a few years. The challenge was that we were moving into a very small space for a few months. We needed to decide what we could live without for a while and what was truly necessary for survival. Hahaha. That was(n't) so funny.
  
• The small space we were moving into was a 28' trailer (with a pop-out) situated in our neighbours driveway and across the street from where I was packing.
• The trailer was not a winter unit which meant we were wiping condensation off the windows and walls everyday in order to control a potential mildew problem.
  
• In the time we were in the trailer, Wolf and I got the dreaded H1N1 and lived to tell about it. Kitten remained perfectly healthy during this time and revelled in her role as caregiver.
• We ended up in that trailer from October 31st until sometime in the first week of March; I can't precisely remember because February 14th marked the first day of The Great ClusterF**k, and I've been a little crazier ever since.

• The Great ClusterF**k deserves a bullet of its own. (Maybe even an indent, but I don't have that option with blogger and I don't remember any HTML.) It all started with an innocent phone call... (cue flashback) Things were getting lean in the work department. We were driving toward the exit of our local grocery store parking lot when Wolf hollered at me to "follow that gold car!" I did. Thankfully, the driver of the gold car wasn't going far. He pulled into a space one lot over at which point Wolf leapt from the truck to say 'Hi.' The point to this minor stalking was to get a phone number from the driver of the gold car. Apparently, Wolf used to work with gold-car-driver's son and had begun a deal (years ago) to change the roof-ling on the guy's house. In under a week, we were in business together. The plan: He's leasing a house in town and has been renting out his house which is on the lake. We'll move into his house for reduced rent while we work with him and while we renovate his house. His house has a hot tub, a pool and a generator which will run the whole house, water features included, in the event of power outage!
  
• New plan: His house was trashed by the previous renters. We'll move into the place he's leasing in town. It's in "The Properties." (Yes, that is as pretentious as it sounds). The rent will be higher but we'll still work with him and help him renovate his house.
  
• New plan: We'll move into his trailer and stay on the property. He'll stay in his house and break the lease on the house in town. It'll be cheaper for all concerned which'll put more money into the business. Don't worry, the trailer's way bigger than the one we were in; it's 38'!!

It was about that point where I snapped.

• Okay. New plan: We'll take over the lease in town, he'll live in his house.... I stopped listening. I decided that there was nothing beyond This Moment. I planned nothing. I answered no questions. I ventured no opinions. I had no thoughts of my own, beyond my own actions. When Wolf asked, "So, what do you think?" I said, "Just tell me what's happening and I'll do it." It was both ugly and cathartic.

Funny, hey?

At some point I'll tell you about the house and where this adventure has taken us, so far, but now I have to sleep. I have to work in the morning and get Kitten to Cartooning class and Marimba. Thanks be for other homeschooling families and the possibility of impromptu, week-night sleepovers!
Amen!

On news, theme songs and living two lives…

Well hello there.

I never wanted this to become another defunct blog. Just thought I’d put that out there. I keep telling myself that I’ll write regularly when things settle down. The problem with that thought process is that things never really settle down. It’s all just various levels of busy.

Our latest busy-ness is in the form of another long term house guest. He arrived a week ago, yesterday, and so far it’s been relatively good. We have the consistent challenges - you know, the ones which present regardless of the visitor. Things like privacy, changes in routine, toilet seat tension and extra expenses. With this particular guest there are a few more things to think about.

This guest is a long standing friend of Wolf’s. This guest, who always had turbulent mood swings, has very recently been diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. This guest has spent a couple of weeks, twice, (from February to March of this year) in the hospital for suicide attempts. This guest flew out to the island about two weeks after his latest attempt.

….

….

I find myself stuck. There is no more to say about it besides my own stress about the whole thing. He is medicated. He is not yet level. Oh, and in August, his girlfriend will arrive, too. They met in the hospital.

On a lighter and more intriguing note, the members of my little family each have their own theme songs. Since she was about three years old, Kitten’s been singing The Imperial March while she plays. Wolf, who has recently rented all of the movies, fills our ears with the theme to Superman. Mine? Like, since I was a kid? Embarrassingly enough, my background music is the Mexican Hat Dance. Ole!

There. Now you know.


My work week. My weekend. I’ve often felt like I was two people. Nothing to be concerned about, mind you, just the me-that’s-at-my-best and the me-that's-falling-apart. Now, I have Work me. The cool thing is that work me tends to supersede falling apart me, more or less. I mean, I have I’m-really-sick-of-this-shit-but-will-keep-gritting-my-teeth-and-smiling Work me, but the point is the smile remains. Mostly.

Weekdays are for work. That’s all I have room for. Work and a little bit of family because my hours are so crappy. Weekends are for art, but art takes so much time. It takes time for me to settle into the zone, to see what my next step should be. I can still work when I’m low. I struggle with art, even the idea of art, when I’m low. I hate that I have to allot so much time to my work life when I find it almost completely unsatisfying and my paycheque sucks. I hate that I exchange eighty hours for $630. I hate that, without Wolf’s income (which is up in August), we would have about $136 left over after paying rent. Per month.

And I’m not overly keen on having become ‘just like everyone else.’


I’ve had a tough week. I’m ready for my big break. Hey Universe, are you listening?

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod....

Things are happening. Things are happening faster than I thought they would. Since my last post, these things have happened - in list form!

~set up a website
~completed my next portrait
~completed the Bio and Contact pages on my website
~found an awesome place to get prints made
~have my first 'real' customer who wants a portrait done!!!

I'm excited and desperately wishing I could quit my job right now to do this full time... which would be jumping the gun, I think. I'm posting a link to my website in my sidebar. Ooh, of course you'll get to know me by my given name, rather than the one I chose. For the record, I prefer the one I chose.