The Mayor of Sarahtown

Love this post.

Balls. Big ones.

Last night was the "lange Nacht der Kunst" in our town - the "long night of art." Being curious about the local art scene, we took kidlet out and tried to see as much as possible before his inevitable meltdown.

Internet, y'all know about my painting fantasies, getting back to my creative roots and *gulp* maybe someday, just maybe having the guts to show my work to others if I am ever *sigh* good enough. Dearest Internet friends, let me tell you something. The artists around GT clearly do not share my insecurities. Instead, they have balls. BIG ones. Meaning they will show any kind of crap and declare it art. Because, these provincials won't know the difference, right?

Don't get me wrong. We saw some interesting things last night. But, we also saw some rather awful things - and those awful things really gave me hope. My work isn't worse than theirs - in fact, it is better than some of it. I just need to pull myself together, find myself a wheelbarrow full of courage and ego-protection spray and knock on some doors.

Note to self: theme for next painting. Balls. Big ones. Maybe that will help!

For someone who is "underemployed" . . .

I have a lot of things on my plate for today.

This is a typical Sarah situation - I like to stick my nose into just about everything, sign up for things, say yes to everyone, then end up running around like a crazy person to get it all done. Today is a marathon around the Guetersloh/Bielefeld area, from (hopefully the last) Ikea visit to fix the damn kitchen cabinets to an interview for a training position, to lunch with a favorite former colleague, then sport club for Joey, then teaching English conversation this evening. Not to mention working on the 4,000 word essay on 19th century literature I have due next week and another on English language corpora due a week later . . .

I'm really missing the few weeks of sitting around in my pajamas that I allowed myself last year. Maybe I should sign up to be a politician as well - introducing an official "Lazy Pants Day" for all overplanned mothers? One of the best things that the West Germans failed to take over after the East German regime fell was the Hauswirtschaftstag. Back in the day, female East German workers got one day off per month to take care of household stuff. The idea itself is fabulous; too bad it probably was spent standing in line for bread.

You know where I'd spend mine, and what outfit I'd be wearing.

(Photo from http://stuffunemployedpeoplelike.com/)

Time Management

Today was a big day. Lots to do and little money to earn. Somehow, I seem to be losing track of time.

Quite honestly, I am enjoying my life more than I have in a long time. I am extremely grateful that all of my stars crossed and I got some time to get back on track. Evil corporate life simply wasn't for me. When I think of some of the things I was asked to do last spring, I shudder. No wonder I felt so exhausted all of the time. The whole process lead me to lots of talks with friends, neighbors and colleagues about what we each need to lead fulfilling lives. The strangest thing is, no matter what the answer, only a small percent of people really feel that they are entitled to follow their passions (or at the very least, reject the things they hate).

Things I am thankful for this week:

1. a first interview with an organisation I would really like to work for
2. a strong and healthy son, who loves to go on bike rides with me
3. spontaneous visits from fabulous women friends
4. it's asparagus season
5. ladies' night tomorrow (let's get loud!)

Now off to bed to dream about all of the wonderful things I have left to experience.  I refuse to give up hope on them - people have called me a ridiculous idealist for decades, but that hasn't stopped me yet. Trust me, I have had adventures and plan to continue.

Summer adventures

So far, I have only been able to lure one American friend to visit G-Town. Shocking, but Guetersloh is not on the list of top ten tourist attractions in Europe.

Did I mention . . .

that I'm going to teach a class on "Cooking to Save the World" this fall?

I love being freelance.

Haiku to my April Lover

Friend asparagus
German crazy maker you
Fill my pot with love

Here's a nice post on the Germans and their love affair with the phallic white wonder. What would Freud say? The vegetable fits with the German preference for foods in the white to brown color range. There are even official "Spargel Parties", spargel menues and spargel festivals. The best thing: Spargel Queens. 

I repeat: what would Freud say?

A walk on the wild side

This weekend, a friend brought over a bonus-sized bag of wild garlic, gathered from a local forest.
This is what Wikipedia has to say about it.

 

Learning new things every day to help my family live healthier is one of the things I love most about my experience in Germany. Somehow I never felt very close to nature in the States. Strange, considering I'm from rural Michigan and we always had a garden growing up. Somehow I got used to having any vegetable or fruit I wanted, any time I wanted. Strawberries in winter? No problem!

In Germany, it is possible to tell the seasons just from the produce aisle. This used to bother me ("This is the 20th century! Why the hell can't I find fresh raspberries in January!? "). Now I really enjoy it. Nobody in their right mind here would ever consider buying a punnet of strawberries before May. "Das schmeckt nicht" - "That doesn't taste good" they claim - and they are right. Why waste a lot of money to transport bland, unripened berries from Morocco to me?

Slowly, I have gotten used to telling the seasons from what is locally fresh . This week, it is wild garlic, which can be had for free and makes a yummy pesto. Next week, it is white asparagus, the vegetable of the gods. White asparagus (incredibly phallic "white gold") will be around until the beginning of June, and is the beloved darling of dinner parties and brunches. After that it is GONE, not to be back until next Spring. I'll know Fall is on its way when Claudia calls me to go elderberry collecting with her.

Maybe that is what the 21st century is all about.

Just wondering . . .

when coloring my hair stopped being about self-expression and started being about denial of aging?

When I grow up . . .

Looks like I'm not the only one going through a premature mid-life crisis. It is amazing how many people I know are still trying to find their way in life. When we were little, being "grown up" seemed much easier. There was only the one question "what do you want to be when you grow up" - and didn't require multiple answers. Who knew that instead of pursuing my adolescent dream of being a waitress, instead I would be: an unemployed art historian, an evil HR lady, an assistant at an embassy, an teacher, a sales clerk, a temp in charge of paid outs at a seed company, a temp in charge of data entry, a temp in charge of (fill in the blank). 

The funny thing is, although I never did wait tables, the reasoning behind that dream has remained a constant. I wanted to be a waitress because I love food (see my backside for physical evidence) and I love making people happy (do not debate this with my husband, just try to accept it as fact). Most of the jobs I have enjoyed so far have had some element of making other people's lives easier. Now is about figuring out how to do the same to mine.

-------------

This reminds me of an old joke circulating in the grad rooms of art history departments around the globe:

Q: What is the most important thing for art history students to learn in college?

A: How to say "do you want fries with that?"

Maybe it's not so far off target. In an existential sense, of course.

Ducks with excellent memories

We've seen these perpetrators before. Last spring, they arrived on the scene, charming us and all of our neighbors to feed their snack habit. "So cute" we thought! The children were enchanted. Our very own ducky love! In our yards! On our patios!

Then - the awful truth. The romantic duo have a pavlovian response to small children feeding them pumpkin seeds. Food in = shit out. Immediately. In our yards! On our patios!

This year, we thought we would be smarter. There is plenty of food out there for the ducks. No need to feed them our precious organic nuts. We thought they would accept this and move on. No. They have learned a new response. No food in = shit out. Immediately. In our yards! On our patios!

I guess they showed us. So much for ducky love.

Getting back in the groove

A few years ago, one of the VPs told me, "Sarah, you've got balls." Being most definitely female, I decided to take this as a complement to my self assuredness. This is currently being tested.

You see, I have sold myself to the local community ed as a painting instructor. After all, I do have a BA in art and a MA in art history. The only problem: I haven't painted in 15 years.

The lovely program administrator called me in March and asked for some photographs of my work to put in the upcoming course guide. Oh. Panic. How can I make up for over a decade of non-activity?

After 4 weeks of worry and a few days of hard painting, I feel like I am finally limbering up. No, I haven't painted a masterpiece, but I definitely reached FLOW in the activity (I love the idea of flow, but I can never remember how to spell Csikszentmihalyi). The pictures are a bit silly and trite, but they make me smile and gave me a feeling that I haven't had in a long time. Maybe I should stop caring about a market for my makings and just concentrate on the make process - who knows what will come out of a few more days, months and years of hard painting?

Happy daubing!

PS. if you are the community ed culture administrator, please ignore this post. Of course I have been serious about my art for the past decade. Really!

Heart attack!

. . . somebody actually read(s) my blog!

This is very exciting, but also a bit shame-inducing. . . I have the feeling I write a lot of self-absorbed drivel here. It is navel-gazing with a master of arts (that makes me a "master navel gazer", thank you very much). Maybe I should write more positive things about how I am going to earn potloads of money with creativity trainings? Maybe I should write less about my digestion (dairy and wheat are not my friends)? I would love to tell the cyber world all kinds of interesting facts about my home life, but my husband would have a heart attack. I'm not sure the insurance would pay out if I were the cause of it.

Until I come up with something clever to write, I'll just bask in the glory of having a follower group of one (welcome, Jennifer!). 

One step forward

This week, I have been in discussions with the local community ed provider about developing an art workshop for young people. It is targeted at kids from immigrant families, who might find it difficult to speak the language. The workshops are intended as a non-threatening environment for them to explore their creative sides while learning how to express themselves about the visual arts. I am super excited about this, because it feels like the right direction for my career. Growing up is so tough these days, especially if you have darker skin and an accent. I just have the accent, but lots of Turkish friends say that it is really tough for them to get apprenticeships or even part time jobs due to their backgrounds. The project feels like a good way for me to share my strengths with adolecents and help get them strong for starting their careers.

The only downside about my search for living creatively and to make positive spaces in my community is the money. I know, same old story. . . I spent the morning making a cash flow chart based on the courses that are booked for the fall and early spring. There are a few months in which I can really make it! The empty months make me really nervous, though. I need to get busier with self-marketing and business development. There have to be more people or organisations out there that are interested in what I have to offer, or I need to ramp up my Dawanda sales. 

Off to read some stories about Etsians who were able to quit their day jobs and to play around on SARK's website. There is so much need for creativity and growth in this world, I have to be able to make this happen!

Great things are happening

When I look back at this time last year, I am incredibly grateful for the time I have had to detox from the corporate world. Last year, I felt entrapped in a toxic company, where executives got their energy from promoting rivalries and inciting bloodbaths rather than generating new business and developing employees.

One year later, I feel incredibly relaxed and thankful. In the past few weeks, I have developed a number of seminars and workshops that I will be giving this fall and next spring. My new life is beginning to take shape, and I am doing things that get me excited. I feel incredibly lucky.

I ran into a former colleague yesterday (at a bizarre German spring fair, another post altogether). He left the company in frustration two years ago to set himself up as a freelance IT consultant. Since then, he has built up a successful business, and looked completely different than he did back then. He had a glow and energy that was infectious. I told him about my own plans, and he said "wonderful - that was always your thing" - which comfirms my gut feeling. Finally, I am concentrating on "my thing" - what could be better? Of course, I worry about the financial side of things, but hope with enough infectious energy that I can open as many doors for myself as possible. Wish me luck!

Is it possible to buy a can of mojo?

Or is it only available in red-wine format?

Stop me if you think that you've heard this one before . . .

My adventures in becoming freelance in a foreign country are moving along at a nice clip. I have a huge wad of official documents in scary, extremely difficult to understand language to fill out by Monday. Somehow, I seem to have a lot more time and energy to spend with my feed reader than with the scary forms. Go figure. I have no doubts that I can make this work for at least a year - if I can just manage to get over these first hurdles. As soon as I feel that I understand something, I have a question about it. Posing the question to an expert seems to bring more areas of confusion. The situation is not helped by the fact that our tax advisor has verbal diarrhea. He is a lovely man, but seems a bit lonely with his numbers. As soon as I enter his office, I am overwhelmed by his excitement at A REAL LIVE PERSON! to talk to. And talk he does - for at least an hour (did I mention we pay him by the hour?). I now know more than I ever wanted to know about his home life and complete amazement that anyone could make a life and living at being creative.

While I do quite enjoy being A REAL LIVE PERSON!, I also like to ask my complicated scary language tax questions quickly and then go back to places where other REAL LIVE PEOPLE! are - people who talk about important stuff, like how annoying Heidi Klum has gotten, what chocolate is best and the Über-Mommy around the corner's new antics. I will be really glad when the whole scary package is filled out, discussed to death and finally returned to me with its official stamp of approval, immediately to be forgotton.

Bellybutton Gazing

Here's the part where I am supposed to apologize for not blogging for a few days. But, as noone reads my blog, I can write whenever the hell I feel like it. Having no obligations is really great for creativity.

This week has been successful - I finally finished my excruciating business plan. For me, writing in German is equally as painful as having teeth pulled. It reminds me that although I muddle through, I am certainly no linguistics scholar. Most of my German I learned from Pawel, my flaming queen roommate back in the 90s. He is Polish, so our only common language was German. He taught me a lot, not just how to be dramatic auf Deutsch. We shared a 2-room flat in Prenzlauer Berg. It was "old style" - that is, heated by a coal oven in each room and no bathroom. We showered in the kitchen. He had rigged up a shower stall there. The other bathroom business was conducted in a tiny WC half a floor down. We shared it with the neighbor across the hall, a woman addicted to plush. It seemed a bit odd that the grotty old East German shared bathroom was fitted up in furry glory - a pink fuzzy toilet cover, knee-deep shag carpet, and fluffy flowers attached to the walls.

I never did meet that woman - we parked our butts on the same toilet for over a year, but never met face to face.

Small Great Things

"Great things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together."   -  George Eliot

My business plan is moving along. Both DH and DN (dear neighbor) read it through to make sure that the German makes some sense. Tomorrow I am planning to bring it to our tax advisor for his official approval. With his go ahead, I can then collect the rest of the paperwork and get everything ready for a April 1 launch. Hooray! 

The numbers still aren't adding up like I want them to. I don't want to be rich, but comfortable would be nice.  Since becoming unemployed last year, I have assured friends and family that we are ok, but joke that "we just can't buy pine nuts any more." The result - pine nuts for my birthday, pine nuts for Christmas, and pine nuts just because. I cannot tell you how happy those tiny little things make us. 

It reminds me of why I am calling my business "Small Great Things". For one, I wanted to keep the name pretty general, because I am a bit ADD about my life's focus. I want to be able to fluidly move from creating my own works of art or craft (regardless of the media) and teaching others to express themselves, whether creatively or through the English language. "Small Great Things" is general. But, it also reflects my core beliefs - that you can accomplish just about anything if you start small and keep focused. It also reflects my belief that if you can appreciate the small things in life, then you are truly rich. Being able to feel incredibly loved - simply by receiving and eating a pine nut - is a marvellous thing.  Now, I have committed myself to the powers that be to commit my career to it as well. 

Wish me luck (and lots of pine nuts!)

Rainy Nostalgia Sunday

It's another grey and rainy Sunday, which gives me plenty of time to be paint, and listen to NPR. There was a great report on a new book of short stories based on Smiths songs. They played a few classics for it, and I was immediately taken back to 1985. Yes, 1985 was right there, in my living room. My very first boyfriend gave me my very first mix tape with "Hand in Glove" on it. At the time, I concentrated on the lyrics "it's not like any other love, this one is different because it's ours" not "we'll probably never see each other again" (we didn't, he moved away). It isa bit painful - yet exhilirating and joyful - to think back on those heady, hormone-laced years of teenage dreams and angst.

Now off to ask Dr. Google whatever happened to that first love of mine.

Enjoying the silence

Why is it that I am 1000% more productive when I am alone in the house?

Part of me loves that both my husband and I work from home right now. The other part of me is going nuts. I suspect that DH's nuts/love ratio is around 10/1. There is really something to be said to having a room . . . or a house, of one's own.

Absolutely love this bingo idea from http://www.secretsocietyofvegans.com/. The bad thing is, winning would come so quickly here in the land of the pork feast.

New Soft Friends

 

Finally, I've been able to put a few more of my soft friends on my Dawanda site. Having a photographer as a husband, I thought it would be easier to get good pictures of my creations. . . what is that old saying about the cobbler's children going barefoot? Enough said.

Only a little more gentle encouragement and I hope to be able to put up a whole slew of upcycled owls and lovecats to make the world a more colorful place. I love plaid animals! They seem to have that little bit of inner nerd (similar to their maker).

The importance of being ernest

Yesterday, I blogged about my cowardly way of becoming a vegan. It's a good thing that noone reads this blog, otherwise I am sure I would (rightly) get a lot of flack from the militant vegan crowd (they kinda scare me on the internet - it seems that animal loving people can sometimes be viscious). So, I thought I had found myself a nice little loophole for eating vegan and saving myself the sermons of non-believing German relatives. I appear to be lactose intolerant, so it is understandable that I would say no to cheese and cheesecake.

I forgot about one thing: lactose-free milk products. I am already getting offers and advice about them. It looks as if I might have to bite the bullet and face the inevitable comments. It took the family a good 4 years to understand that fish are not vegetables. For them, not drinking milk or eating cheese is next to being a hardened criminal. The Germans had a lot of hungry years after the war, and the consumption of pork has become almost a national symbol of recovery. The more pork, the happier! (except for the pigs).

Cuddly vegans are more than welcome to comment!

One step forward

For several months, I have been suffering from stomach pains. Nothing really serious, but enough to make me feel uncomfortable. While wasting time instead of writing my next essay for the OU looking on the internet, I realized it may have to do with the massive amounts of dairy products that have crept into my diet. It was time to try life as a vegan.

I've been a vegetarian for almost 20 years, and have flirted with becoming a vegan for the past year. Last summer, we visited a dairy farm in Michigan. Don't worry, I don't have any tragic stories about evil farmers and cows being kept in tiny pens. The cows were actually treated quite well - they all had names, got fresh food, and got to spend time out to pasture. BUT, one question would not leave my mind while saying hello to all of the ladies. Where are the boys? That was the first time it really hit home that my dairy consumption was in a way supporting the slaughter of male calves (bulls? calves don't seem to merit that masculine sounding name!). The same thought then started to creep in about the roosters . . . does my egg consumption contribute to the nugget factories by default?

The yucky tummy thing and the "boy questions" made it easy for me to give up dairy and eggs for a few days to test it out. The coward (and glutton) in me has been reluctant to go vegan, because let's face it - vegans are even more freak show than vegetarians. My German family already thinks I am crazy - can I really take it up a notch without being attacked? I know, I shouldn't care what other people think or say, but sometime it is simply exhausting always being the one considered to be "a problem".

The thing is, after two days dairy free, I felt fabulous. My skin glowed and my mood was fantastic. Could this really be due to giving up dairy? It was easy to test this theory - and my personal scientific experiment began. We had several packages of (really yummy and really expensive) raclette cheese in the fridge, set to expire this weekend. For the sake of science, I invited some friends over for a raclette dinner and enjoyed the smelly, fatty cheese, knowing it might be my last.

Well, internet friends. I went to bed with a slightly rumbly tummy, and woke up to extreme stomach pain, with all the fixin's. So, now I am allowed to be vegan because of lactose intolerance, not for being a batshit crazy treehugging foreigner.

One step back

Crap. I finally got further information on the art group that I was supposed to lead - including the fact that the hourly wage is 9 Euros less than what I get at a similar gig near to my house.

Am I getting to be a snob, or am I getting to be a realist? I do not want to travel for 30 minutes each way to teach for 90 minutes for a frighteningly shabby rate. Can I afford to say no, for the sake of experience?

What is really frightening is that this is how German schools are tackling education in the afternoons. They are paying people LESS THAN A GOOD BABYSITTER to work with large groups of kids. No wonder the last person gave up the job. I am not entirely sure why (personal disappointment, bruised ego, worries about money, worries about the German education system) but this breaks my heart.

Back to square one.

The Consequences of Fear

Ok - my last post was about my background. You can see that I already edited a bit.

The truth is (*gulp*) that almost all of my past career choices have been made out of some kind of fear. I took the HR job at the big Japanese electronics company because I didn't believe in myself enough to make a living doing what I love. Yes, I did learn to love the job, but mostly because of the people.

It was the same thing at my last job. My job at the electronics company was moved to the UK. I panicked and took the first job offer I got, despite my gut telling me that it was a bit odd. Slowly, I took on more and more work, finally ending up to the Head of HR, although this had never been my goal (look up the Peter principle).

Over the past 10 years, I have forgotten the reasons for moving to Germany - to have more time to enjoy life, to have easy access to a whole world of culture. I had always meant to live small, within my means. Now, I have a mortgage. I'm still unemployed, although I have some great teaching assignments lined up for the fall. Money has to come from somewhere, but I am hesitant to fall back on fear as the basis of all of my decisions.  Coming back to the original question of this blog - how can one lead a fulfilling, creative life and still be able to be a productive member of society?

This really inspires me - it is the site and blog of a woman that I met in college. We had several classes together, and often got to talking. She was very interested in animal rights and eating responsibly, and had just switched to veganism. Our conversations got me to thinking and realized that vegetarianism was the right path for me. If her name wasn't so unusual, I probably would have forgotten it altogether. Some random search for a recipe or health information lead me to her website. Almost twenty years later, I find that she has dedicated her life and her career to her beliefs and abilities to teach - and she looks and sounds absolutely amazing. I have just a tinge of regret when I look at her amazing site - what could I have achieved if I had believed in myself back then? The only way to find out is to start NOW. . .

A bit of background - Part One

After losing my job last year, I have spent a lot of time exploring what my next career step should be daydreaming about what to do next. It was pretty obvious that I needed a change. After finishing my master's degree, I moved to Germany. I'd studied in Berlin for several years, and the lifestyle was attractive. I knew thought that if I stayed in DC, I could have found a museum or gallery job to keep my head above water. I figured I could do the same in Berlin - but with guaranteed healthcare and 6 weeks vacation.

Observation

Love the idea of how making things fun can change our behavior.

Observation

Why is it that kids won't eat "the same thing as last night," but they will eat anything if you call it "PARADE OF LEFTOVERS!!!"?

Scanner/Slasher

Just learned that there is a name for my career attention deficit problem.

Viva Colonia!

The German tradition of "Karneval" has always been a mystery to me. National public television features hours of footage of amateur Karneval festivities consisting of fright wigs, poor skits and cheap jokes. Bands play a seemingly endless stream of corny songs - and everyone in the studio audience sings along, swaying from side to side. Quite frankly, until this year, I found this a bizarre national dork-fest.


This year, the dorks have won me over. Maybe my creative journey has made me more open - somehow, I have gained respect and admiration for hundreds of people behaving silly. The performers are amateur, which is reflected in the product. But, these are people that spend months writing and rehearsing their own scripts, sewing their own (often quite strange and oddly-colorful) costumes and constructing elaborate sets. They are willing to make complete asses of themselves on national television. What would the world be like if everyone was willing to take that kind of risk? What if everyone did their best, worked with their neighbors and friends to make a product, and had fun with it, no matter how it turned out? What would happen if audiences clapped and cheered for their hard working friends, even if the performance was less than perfect?

That is definitely a world I would like to be a part of (even if I still don't want to watch it on tv). Too bad it is only possible for one week of the year, and heavy alcohol consumption is required.

Inspiration Board

 

One of the smartest things I have ever done is to marry a very handy man with lots of power tools. A few weeks ago, he turned half of my office wall into a giant bulletin board - with plenty of room for me to put up lots of fabric swatches. This is a great way for me to get a feel of what is in my stash and what might go together. The little owls on the bottom right are the first products created from it.

Observation

I have really rough hands.

Because I make things.

Giggity Gig! (and existential questions of motherhood and employment)

It may be more correctly called miniscule than small. Still, it's a start.

I have been asked to teach art. For 90 minutes per week. For little money, a long-ish drive, and not the brightest students.

Still, I am pretty pleased about this. Finally, an opportunity to see if this the path I want to follow for the next few years. For a while, I thought that sorting out a work schedule to coordinate with German pre-school and daycare hours was a nightmare.  Now I know that the real nightmare starts when Little Guy goes to school. Not only are the hours crazy (unless you pay for additional time), the kids have several blocks of vacation - not just 6 weeks in summer, but 2 in Fall, 2 at Christmas, 2 at Easter, and in some regions, 2 in the winter. No employers that I have ever heard of can let their employees repeatedly drop everything at various times of the year to stay home with their kids. I am sure that there are ways of coordinating around this. We could swap with other parents, we could beg the relatives, we could sign LG up for various camps and workshops. The truth is, I don't want to do that. I really like him. I want to spend some time with him while he is small. Don't get me wrong, I love working and cannot imagine being a 100% stay at home mom (lots of respect to them!). But, I am tired of shuffling my kid around - as past years of too many business trips and overtime have proven - he isn't really up to it. We all like each other much more when we have a little bit of time to breath and have fun together.

So, I now have a 90 minute job in the area that I actually studied in 15 years ago. The schedule fits with LG's. I am hardly likely to get rich, but somehow I still feel like my life is worth a zillion bucks.

Excuses, excuses

Reading Keri Smith's list of "How to be Miserable as an Artist" has reminded me of a number of my cop-outs for not creating. Even blogging gets stopped by comparing myself to others. There are so many damn blogs out there, and so many really fantastic ones written by creative, dynamic women who (seem to) have their lives in order, I am reluctant to take mine seriously. There is that tiny tickle at the back of my head that says "I could be the next Dooce!" - and kindof knowing that I am not going to have millions of followers (and lovers and haters) within a month seems to burst my bubble quite effectively.

So, here goes. It is ok if I just write because it is good for me and I enjoy it. It doesn't matter if noone reads it. Note to self: Hi there, reader! One is a wonderful number!

Inspiration from the blogosphere

Although the internet is my time-sucker number 1, it is also the source of some amazing stuff. Looking at sites like these make me feel like I am definitely not alone on my journey and that maybe what I am looking for is not where I expect it (note to self: keep looking!).

Insight on the many blocks to creativity

Keri Smith's creativity and guerilla art guide (love it!)

Keri's 100 Ideas to get the creative juices flowing

An excerpt from Keri's Artist's Survival Kit (hope it is ok that I linked this. This has so much truth to it!)

Blocks are for Stumbling AND Building

True to my normal attention span, I blogged a few times, got distracted, then stopped. This is pretty much the same story with my painting, printmaking, writing, etc.

Several months on from my first blogs, I am proud to say that I am finally keeping up my commitment to returning to a creative lifestyle. Maybe this is because I have lowered my standards for myself - slowly, I have accepted that I may never be the next big new thing, or that I may never generate a masterpiece. The main thing is, I am having fun. Fun - who woulda thunk it?

I have been busy making all sorts of things - mostly small and decorative, which I would have dismissed with a sneer during my art school days. This weekend, we dedicated a whole day to art. I dragged out all of my brushes, paints, gadgets and papers. Together, we messed around with color and form. The resulting work (after 15 years of NOT painting) were very mediocre, but I felt energized after the day. My husband felt energized after the day. An artist friend who is suffering from lack of funding felt energized after that day. The entire living area looked like a disaster, there were curls of carved wood in every corner, there were paint smears in strange places, and somehow Mani managed to slice holes in both his pants and t-shirt, but we all glowed with the energy of it all. And, most importantly, our son saw that we take the time to do the things that mean something to us and make us who we are.