3 for me, none for you

I just ate breakfast and I'm having my green/chamomile tea. I like having a nice, cooked breakfast in the morning with a cup of tea. It's comforting. I almost didn't today out of sheer laziness, but I cooked it all fast like a ninja!

I definitely ate more junk yesterday than I should have. i had a small bowl of ice cream after lunch, and then later after a big dinner decided I needed an even bigger bowl of icecream, which was a bad idea. I could barely finish it off really. And then of course cause I was stuffed to the gills, that triggered a special bonus feature otherwise known as my lethal gases. Haha!I felt guilty, about the big bowl of ice cream, simple because I knew it wasn't GOOD for me. I wasn't really thinking, it's gonna make me fat. More that it was more sugar and fat than my body knew what to do with. I saw it as a waste, actually! isn't that nutty??

I remembered to download a few things last nite....Tori Amos' Scarlet Walk albumn, and The Rocket Summer and Jewel's Spirit. It was while falling asleep a couple nites ago Scarlet's Walk popped into my head (well, the idea of it). That albumn is really special to me. I've tried listening to other Tori Amos albumns but really, when you've heard one you've heard them all in a lot of ways. This one is special to me because I listened to it for hours upon hours while doing my still life drawing that I set up in my old computer room in Arizona. As most grueling art projects are, at the time it was painful to say the least. But I always look back on those times as really special. It was just me, lost in my head, with a pencil. The world fell away, I was a lady on a mission.

I fondly think of the project I worked on with a teacher who's name I can't even recall at the moment. It wasn't long before I moved. I took over the kitchen. The dining table became my gluing station, the kitchen island became my clay station, one of the kitchen counters my clay-softening stations. I can remember the smell of the lavendar baby oil I used to soften the clay. The squishy feel of it all between my fingers. Running back and forth between the living room (drawing) to the computer room (scanning,editing, printing) to the office (photocopy made on fax machine) to the kitchen to do my transfers. It was a scary, busy flurry, but it was me in my element , really. I had my stereo there too, and I constantly played Lionel Richie, Steve Miller Band, and Kenny Rogers (my mom was shocked by that one!).

I was thinking about how strange it is that, when I start working on something, my entire day is gone. Normally that would be a good thing, but it gives me anxiety...Like my day went by without me hardly acknowledging it. Like time goes by so fast, and it already feels like it goes by fast enough, what with my fear of death, my fear of losing the people I love and care about.

I got to thinking, Chris told me before that I have this intense fear of hard work. Now I can see how working on a project, and how that eats up my time, worries me. It's almost as if I'm investing my life in something that is ultimately useless.

But you see, that's my dad's opinion pushing mine away...not even letting mine dare to exist.

Ever since I was a little girl in Ishikawa Elementary, drawing, art in general was so important to me. I was always so isolated. I rarely played with the other kids (and only then if they were people I knew. I was always fiercely picky about who I felt safe with). I will never forget the day we had our first art class. We went out to a trailer set up out beside the playing field. It was pretty small....a bunch of kids at different circular tables. We were told to imagine up and create our own bird. It's funny, really, because afterwards we hung our birds up on the wall, and I remember waiting for people to comment on mine. Wether they did or not, I don't remember, but it's irrelevant really. What was important was the fact that I had this expectation to be praised. As though I knew, this is what I do, look how good I am at it! Now I wonder where that came from :)

This is why I find it so easy to believe in past lives. There's a confidence there, a knowing there, that seemed to always be a part of me. It was just, as corny as this sounds, a part of the truth of my soul that I already knew but simply had to reconnect with.

I think I'll leave it off at that.