the olympics

so. let me give you a little context for this:

i am doing another one of Julia Cameron's books after having finished the Artist's Way a few months ago. it was so transformative and encouraging, that i wanted to keep up the momentum. so i went out and bought another of her books: vein of gold.

so remember how there were lots of assignments and homework and list-making in the artist's way? no? well, there were.

but THIS book puts it to shame. i have to write an effing AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

let me be clear though, it's an important assignment... it's already been a great journey and i've moved through some really painful memories, as well as uncovering some funny ones too.

so anyhow, since it's taking up a significant portion of my time these days, i thought i'd share:

I always had visions of grandeur growing up. Like I dreamed that one day I’d go to the olympics by being discovered for my fast running.

I used to run in the races during recess in elementary school and only one boy was faster than me. Later on, in junior high, when I had started puberty and was a little chubby, I imagined that I might still be secretly fast.

I used to run as fast as I could through the parking lot from the salon up to the convenience store. I would go at an all out sprint to get anything anyone wanted from the 7-11. Lotto ticket? Sprinted. Soda? Sprinted. Ice cream from the Baskin Robbins next door to the 7-11? Sprinted and didn't even spill it.

In a parking lot.
In a small town outside of Houston, Texas.

I honestly thought a "scout" would see me and I'd be out of there, faster than a speeding bullet.


Love,
Sam

using just my words

i try to take a walk every morning after i write. there is a loop i like to take around the north part of central park, which affords me a pleasant combination of people-watching and nature-observation that i find stimulating and inspiring.

today the wind kept gusting up in random bursts and shaking the leaves loose from the branches overhead. showers of yellow leaves drifted down in shafts of sunlight, like glittering golden coins, but moving more slowly,
like feathers
or molasses
or slow dancing.

it was like magic.

i realize that these are my favorite trees and i draw them often: trees with a few leaves...
perched on the precipice between fullness and hibernation,
introversion and extroversion
summer and winter.

poised in fall, like some glorious rite of passage, vibrant, proud, celebrated.

i didn't have that. responsibility and maturity rounded the corner on me at an early age and i'm just now starting to grieve it. the change. the loss of something. the birth of something else.

"how trite."
the critic in my mind scoffs at such suburban self-therapy speeches. but i don't know if comparison is the way to deal with suffering. although knowing that there are people with worse stories than mine could inspire a sense of gratitude in me, it doesn't change the fact that every human walking this earth suffers. and has hurt. baggage. regret. pain.

and everyone is free to choose how to live with that.

x,
sam

Coming soon: Bears

Today I was going to make two bears and build panels... but then I ended up making FOUR bears and no panels... yet anyway.

The goal is to get these and some new paintings in the shop on Friday, so be on the lookout!

I'm really excited about the painting idea in my head and I want to tell you about it.....
but it would blow the whole biscuit, so you (and I) will just have to wait.

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On a separate note, I am feeling better about the whole art-thingy.
Thanks everyone for the nice words and high-fives and warm-fuzzies and good-thoughts-vibes sent my way.

I am notoriously impatient and faithless. Mainly in myself. I'm not sure if it's that some people are born with a natural confidence or if some people are just better at masking their inner insecurity, but I didn't come out that way.... I'm all heart on my sleeve, all the time.

But I like me.
and I like you too.

chin up!
love,
sam

Nesting dolls: stage 2

this is one of the projects i've been working on in the past few days.

besides this, i've been tackling the enormous pile of laundry we've got (did 4 bags worth today!) and working on some freelance projects, which have been loads of fun, but not really post-able just yet.

i've also been a bit sad for the past few days...
sometimes i question what on earth i'm doing trying to be an artist... i get very negative and doubtful and impatient.

i think it's connected to my always wanting to see ahead to a safe landing before jumping.

i feel like i'm in the longest ever free-fall.

i keep telling everyone that it's fun and terrifying at the same time, but that's not true at all... it seems to be EITHER fun OR terrifying, depending on what moment you ask.

today it's fun.
ask again tomorrow.

love,
sam

masking it

sometimes i don't like myself. do you know this feeling?

being the contemplative type, i ask myself lots of "why" questions until i feel like i've explored my mood.

beauty is a recurring theme during these musings. here are some possible reasons i've brainstormed:
-i grew up in a beauty salon.
-there's a history of all kinds of plastic surgery in my immediate family: boobs, chins, lipo, noses, etc.
-i'm a girl in modern-day american culture.

i feel like i've heard and believed (at various times) a lot of very conflicting and confusing messages about beauty.

i'm done with that.
everyone is beautiful. especially you.

love,
sam

the swift current

i am a mess today.

big heaping, tangled, knotted, jumbled up mess.

crazy crayola scribble.

there are things in my life that i would very much like to control, which sadly, are out of my control.

there are also things in my life seemingly within my control, which sadly (again), i seem to be effing up.

it's like i learned to juggle and then just kept adding more and more balls until that critical point where they all start falling out of orbit like large pieces of hail.

it's hailing expectations and to-do list items around here.

and i bruise so easily.

love,
sam

lost at sea

Manchmal habe ich Angst, dass den Teil von mir, der Deutsche ist, verloren wird.... dass er wie ein Schiff wird, das weiter und weiter segelt, bis man es nicht mehr sehen kann.

Dann denke ich nach, wie verrückt das ist. Dieser Teil kann nicht von mir getrennt werden. Der Teil ist kein Fuß um einfach ab zu nehmen.
Der ist sondern wie eine Farbe, die man überall in einem Gemälde sieht. Wenn die Farbe weg genommen würde, würde das Gemälde zerstört.

Der Teil von mir, der Deutsche ist, wird nie von mir getrennt. Es wird ewig da sein. Ich freue mich darauf.

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The above paragraph (likely full of grammatical errors) is something that struck my thoughts today... I sometimes forget that I am half German.  When I remember, I am startled by the notion that I've forgotten and fear that somehow this part of me will drift away on the sea and I will never find it again.

There have been times in my life when I embraced it fully and times when I hid it from others.  It is not fully who I am, but it is so integrated into my life and memories that in thinking about the course of my life, it cannot be ignored or trivialized.

I wrote this in German because the sentiment seemed to demand it.

love,
Sam

empty

if you open me up,
i'm afraid you'll find
i'm empty,
i'm empty inside

but where has it gone?
where could it hide?
i'm empty,
i'm empty inside

see, i lost my heart
the day he died
i'm empty,
i'm empty inside

so if you open me up,
i'm afraid you'll find
i'm empty,
i'm empty inside.

when i grow up...

i want to be an artist, seamstress and musician.

someone will pay me to do this, right?

prose for monday.

we are dancing
dancing

and we are old
and we are remembering it all
as we turn under the stars and twinkle lights
all strung in a canopy among the branches overhead

where has all the time gone?
like sweet melodies in a minor key,
so bittersweet.

no second helpings.
it comes and goes just the once
and we are left frozen and speechless at its irrevocable beauty.

poignant?
yes, to the point of tears.
all this beauty and all this pain
lived over and over again.

maybe if i can keep laughing
i can keep my sanity.

treading water

get up
take the train
take the bus
work
take the bus
take the train
grocery store
cook dinner
clean the apartment
laundry
read some blogs
watch tv (online)
make art
pick tomorrow's outfit
get to bed on time.

no wonder i feel spent. as i was writing an email tonight, i found words: every day i feel like i'm treading water just fast enough to stay afloat. but i'm so exhausted.

i love you internet, but it might be time for another fast.

home sick today

sitting at the computer and listening to the kids on the playground of the lower school, which faces our back window.
noticing that the last time i saw them in the summer, they were all sweat and tank tops.
now they look like miniature Michelin men in all those puffy coats.

avoiding it...

i think sometimes my emotions make me claustrophobic... so i just ignore them.

this explains a lot.