I made the commitment to write every day. So here I am, writing today. It’s February 1st. February’s a funny word. You want to say Feb-you-airy, but it’s Feb-roo-airy. Nobody does it right. Why doesn’t anybody do it right? I wonder what the origin of February is. Let me go look that up. Huh. It’s from the Latin februarius mensis, which means “month of purification.” What can I do to purify my life this month? Strip away all the crap, and live my authentic life. Which is what my goal is. So, good timing.
On the same search results page, at the Etymology Dictionary, I’ve got hootenanny. I don’t know that I’ve ever been to a hootenanny. Of course, sometimes it feels like there’s one going on here in my head. Especially when there’s mania, when my brain insists that I do all the things. Right now. Simultaneously. I have to write and sing and knit and cross stitch and color and sew and read and and and and and and and… NOW.
I wound up writing down all the things on index cards on a key ring last night, and flipping them around with my eyes closed to pick one. Then I spent an enjoyable few hours making an origami flower out of the pages of a book. Once I figure out how to put pictures on here, I’ll upload one. Or two. I think I took five. Give or take. (Two hours later [while I was still writing this entry], I can tell you I took three, and the best of the bunch is at the end of this post.)
But during the time I was making it, I was also searching for info for a short story, researching music composition software, talking to a friend who was nervous about something coming up in his life today, jotting down ideas for songs to sing and songs to write, playing Minesweeper and Solitaire, watching past seasons of The Voice, eating dinner, and working out. The YouTube demo video for the flower took around eight minutes. One flower took me something like five hours. That’s par for the course these days.
I guess the upside of manic brain is that I’m getting things done. Things I actually want to do. It may take me 37 times longer to get things done than if I wasn’t manic, but they’re still getting done. And I’m enjoying them. That’s the funny thing: if you’d told me six months ago I would derive such enjoyment from things like coloring, sewing, or crafting, I would have laughed in your face. The really cool thing: I’m good at doing these things. I always thought the visual art genes skipped me. Mama has them, my next oldest cousin has them in spades, and my Lulu has them. I never thought I did.
I guess that’s a side benefit of arting. I’m learning more about myself while I do it. It’s not just the distraction my therapist was looking for. She strongly recommended I do this stuff as a means to help control my anxiety. And it’s working well for that. But finding out who I am in the process… that, I did not expect.
While I’ve been writing this post, I’ve also been playing Bejeweled Blitz, watching The Voice, exercising, checking tomorrow’s calendar, looking into knitting and crochet classes, checking in on a BBS, daydreaming about a career in music, figuring out how to do more WordPress things than just writing a post (I added a picture! And connected my blog to my Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr accounts!), and emailing my Little Man back to explain that having your living room, kitchen, pantry, dining room, office, craft room, and bathroom all be the same room is not as fun as he might think. (To be fair, he only wants the first six in the same room.)
So here we go. First post is done. You never know what I’ll be writing about next. It might be my day, or the day I wish I had, or the dream I had, or something neat I saw online, or one of my arting projects, or a song, or anything at all. But it will be authentically me.