Jumpy castles in the sky

At some point you just gotta do that painful, heart wrenching thing. You gotta spill the truth, cut the ties, admit defeat, throw in the towel and move on.

There is a big difference between giving up and letting go. It’s easier with a plan, a script, practice and a strong crew of peeps. I am almost there- almost ready to make the final leap. Just a little more preparation and I’ll be ready to go. New beginnings; doing things differently from now on.

I made a checklist. This is a rotation list, a mantra, a reminder and my goals.

1. Write a letter to all the people you’re gonna quit giving shit to (emotionally, physically and professionally!)-check

2. Create a retreat where you can create the life you want- foundations in place.

3. Trust the universe and make art- getting closer!

4. Surround yourself with people who only have your best interests in their hearts- CHECK!

5. Stop doing the same fucking shit over and over… Almost there.

6. Send the letters out and quit doing that shit- yep, this will happen 12/13/14. That’s the date I’ve chosen.

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Fuck this week, so far.

It been a rough and wonderful week. Learning things I didn’t want to know but have to know, watching my kids succeed, making art, struggling, building, spending a small fortune on my kids faces, stressing about debt that comes from said small fortune spending, telling the same people no again and again, accepting that you can’t expect things from people, explaining that you can’t help people who don’t want to be helped, and realizing that I am STILL not doing what I’m suppose to be doing.

Stress is trying to hound me. Work is making me miserable. I don’t owe anyone an explanation for these rants. There is no like button here. I don’t need to exclude anyone from this post.

Fuck all of you whiney, greedy, selfish assholes in my life. I am no longer available for you. I will no longer gift you services and advice. Make a note of it.

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Reread

I tried to reread these but they made me too angry. I will stop myself from deleting them, but I will also apologize that they read like a weepy journal; oh, woo has me. Barf!

I just want to make art, break shit, build shit and add glitter. I just want to create programs and help people step into the magical light that is art making… But I also want to get paid and that, THAT, is not possible in this world.

You gotta give it away now.

Ten Terrible Days and Ten Terrible Nights.

I started to transcribe all the notes, and thoughts, and voice recordings, and ideas I’ve had the last ten days and I realized how much I had veered off course from the original intent of this blog in the first place: to write about myself and my work.

Instead it got tied up in my living situation, moving, disappointment, and family shit.

I don’t want to think about that, let alone write about it, at least NOT here.

Deep Blue 42 is about my journey to let go of things, to find more positive solutions and to think more productive thoughts. I am a negative person and I know where it comes from and how it got here. I don’t need to spend my work time talking about my mommy and her daily weed habit (which by the way makes her MORE negative…weird right?) or my dad and his absence (which by the way does not make the heart grow fonder)!

I am here to tell you about my work and how amazing working is and how much I enjoy the process of working. It’s suppose to be about ART.

Ok, I think I just needed that reminder, for myself if nothing else.

Funny, I sit here now trying to think of something to say about my art but instead I have to go think about packing, moving, unpack and MORE release of my objects.

Hopefully I can switch gears soon.

Hard Brick Lessons

Sometimes things don’t work out. Sometimes it feels like everything happens TO me, like, in a hateful-the-world-is-against-me way.

I used to pray, put a spell on it and try to read my horoscope looking for guidance and answers to my problems. Today I just decided that I’d say fuck that and let things roll off.

My brand new puppy was either poisoned OR she’s defective. Hard to say either way but here we are in the throws of moving and the wonders of transitions and she just falls down paralyzed, again. She broken. I’m broken. I am also broke (see: moving. Into a new house we bought. Broke).

We’ve already spent thousands on vet bills and she is barely four months old. We still have no answers as to why.

She is teaching me that we never know how long we have. Enjoy every minute, love like a crazy person cuz, snap! It can all go away. Everything is temporary.

Art is the same way. I think this is why I love found art so much. It’s so magical to see faces in the trees or to make fairie houses out of sticks and leaves. I know I have to let go of some fears still, the plan for forever being a big one.

Today is a lifetime.

Finders Keepers

There are a lot of sayings out there about possession and property. What’s mine is yours, possession is 9/10ths of the law and finders keepers- losers weepers. And so on and so forth. It’s facinating the “things” people will fight over, in the end especially. The ways in which we have to earn and collect things, be it purchase, find, inherit or build have all become so disgusting. We work most of the week at jobs we despise in order to purchase houses to fill with gadgets and gizmos, we then create more rooms to hold more things and we hold a sick sense of pride in our belongings. Wealth badges and displays. Charging objects with the power to hold memories and keeping things because getting rid of them takes too much effort.

I am so glad I am learning to let go when I still have all this time left in my life.

I am so full of anticipation and excitingment about leaving this property forever, but more than that I can’t wait to get away from all this stuff. It’s so facinating to watch this house empty out, all while I can feel the vultures circling in the hopes that can get a big chunk of the flesh for themselves. All these years I thought it was sentimentality that kept us here but it turns out it’s simply greed and possessiveness that held us. I can easily picture my family breaking apart my home, going through my letters and boxes of stuff. I’d like to make sure that process is easy and enjoyable. Things just need to be purposeful and enjoyable.

Love fills up the empty space now.

I’ll cross that bridge

Driving home today I was struck by the beautiful place I’ve been living the last four years. It was a lovely winter dusk (my favorite time of day), the sinking sun cast a pink and blue light through the tall grey and black trees; all of them looking tired and beaten after several strong winter storms. The rain had stopped and while I knew it was cold out there it felt warm and inviting.

Instantly I was relaxed and happy.

That’s the “thing” about being an Oregonian that all the transplants don’t understand. This season calms me, and, usually, even without other people casting gloomy shadows and doom all over me, I consider it a time of rest, hibernation and creation. This used to be when I typically make most of my work.

Some dear friends once called it “The Rainy Day Wildfire” because the cold rain coups everyone up and that is when they create best! That phrase has always stuck with me. In fact, I have another blog titled just that and it was what fruited this blog and together they capture perfectly all the things I am working on right now.

These daily posts are about creating a plan for how I can transition my life away from struggle and survival to blossoming and creation. I no longer accept that I have to have three lives; the one where I do something I hate to make money to allow me to maybe have time to do the things I love; the one where I compromise the thing I love to make a little money and the one where I actually do the thing I love.

I can no longer think about doing something just for money. I must and can do what I love and make money. All the anxiety and teeth grinding about the future and the what does it all mean ends now. Every day is new and everyday deserves a chance to simply be.

I will wake up, I will breathe, eat, drink, talk, smile, poop, walk, cry, make, eat again, bathe, write, clean, shop, build, crush, love, shrug, and sleep- I will cross that bridge when I come to it.

No Pack Mule

I am preparing to leave behind a family property that has been a place of wonder and magic but also a place of horror and distress. Today was about the hoarders of my genetic and familial past. Ugh. Yuck!

I literally do not know what kind of disgusting shit makes up the moldy madness on the items left in a barn for 20 years but I do know it’s making me weepy and sneezy; it’s also making me glad to let go of, well, everything that has no purpose. I never want anyone who has loved me to have to pick through my dusty shit, not ever.  If I die tomorrow I want everything I own to either be worth keeping, worth selling or art materials easily recycled.

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The saddest part about this whole endeavor has been seeing how it brings out the true colors in those involved.  Thankful doesn’t being to describe the feeling I have about finally being free of these people… forever.  I’ve always been equipped with a proverbial rolling door that drops shut on people who go too far; it’s a thick, it’s clear and it’s sound proof an invisible wall that keeps me safe from ass holes.  This year it’s roll has gotten faster and faster and faster and the chances that the door will ever go up again are less and less and less.

Cleaning out the trash, that’s what this blog is all about.  I will no longer put power or energy to inanimate objects and I will no longer give someone access to my life just because they are an old friend or even family. In order to be in my life you must have value(s), be purposeful and have a beautiful core.

I am already lighter.