Crisis Of Identity

I’ve been blogging here for nearly a year, and elsewhere three years before that. In this past year I’ve used this space mainly as I pleased, which is of course the whole hyper self-aware point of blogging. The 365 project was a massive FAIL. I should know better than to attempt to do anything regularly other than excrete, and you would probably rather I not mention my excretions in any sort of detail. Fine, we have a deal on that.

I’m not too worried about OMG-what-should-I-do-with-this-blog? because, after all, there are only three of you reading it. That’s fine. It’s for me, anyway. Mine, all mine, except in this oddly public way. Whatever. But it strikes me that this is a good time to make some changes.

First off, there’s posting frequency. I’m making no promises here, but it seems that I could drop a line or two more often than twice a month (or less) or so. And so it shall be. (See the awesome power you have? I bow down before you.) After all, I regularly write dozens of words, even as many as 7000, in a single day beginning with my Artists’ Way Morning Pages (yes, I do them). So slinging a few choice ones here once in awhile might be fun.

Next, I thought about moving away from the unabashedly personal nature of what I write here. But … nah. I’ll stay with that. I like it. It’s, well, me.

And, third, expect more experiments. That’s all I can say about that for now (no sense making promises at this point in light of the 365 fail), but I do other things besides write cathartic prose with a cadence. Like, uh, paint. And stuff. And I might show you some.

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THIS.  I read this piece at Open Mic night at the local fabulous community bookstore, to moderate approval that included laughter in mostly the right places and applause. Reading one’s written work aloud is a stirring experience, one I plan to repeat.

AND THIS.  The painting is going well. Here’s how I did it:

1. Bought some paint and brushes and some canvases.
2. Decided it was all just an experiment. No pressure.
3. Forgot about painful childhood art experiences when nothing looked like it did inside my head.
4. Painted.
5. Found it is all much easier than it looks.

It’s your turn now. What act of creation did you put away when your were a child? It’s still within you; open yourself up and see.

AND THIS.  Sad truth. When we think we have uncovered painful, difficult, old stuff and worked through it, dealt with it, or otherwise processed it and then think we are “done,” we are not. You will continue to test yourself on it for awhile. The trick is not to become buried by it when it comes up again. If anyone knows a way to get around this, please call me. Preferably in the next hour or so.

AND THIS.  I have decided that I am probably incapable of drowning myself, at least not near where I live in northern Washington state. The reason? The water is too cold here. I could never stay in it long enough. What this says about my ability to make a commitment and stick to it, well, I’ll leave that for you to ponder.