In Which I Have My Own Space Again, and All I Wanna Do Is Art

Phoo.
I'm supposed to be making phone calls of great import, and scheduling more family vacation arrangements, (Yes, I just got back from one, but this year we seem to have several. I like them, I just don't know what I'm going to do with so many of them- They're like pies. Awesome and fun, but more than one of them and you start wondering if you have room left in the metaphorical fridge of mental capacity.) but all I want to do is art, now that I finally have space to do it again.

I can't think very well lately. I can't seem to keep ideas in my head unless they are art ideas. I need to go shopping for food but I don't quite want to because I haven't showered yet because I was going to do that after walking the dog which I slept in too late to do this morning so I have to do that this afternoon and then run laundry while I walk the dog and see if Mom has the phone number to that one doctor I was supposed to call...

and all I want to do is put up sets and take pictures here in my apartment.

I feel like the world is moving too fast for me. If only I could stop time, so the people leaving me would not leave, the people wanting me to go places would not need to be in a hurry to go, and I could sit for a day or two and just Do Art. If only life were so simple.

In Which It's Never as Bad as I Think it Will be, and I Make Changes

Almost never is.
After I've gone and done something, I get so worked up into a nervous knot over what someone will think, and then I get to standing there in front of them and it's not as bad as I thought it would be. I imagine this cloud of disapproval and disappointment. I think I'm terrified of being a disappointment. I have this hunger for pleased approval. Do I think I don't get enough of that or something?

I am making some changes. I have signed a lease to a new apartment of my very own. I have also cut my hair short again. It was rather long, and just today I had it cut to very short- Almost a pixie cut. I've had this haircut a few times before, and I like it an awful lot. It makes me look cute and capricious. Younger. More my age.

I'm all set to have myself a Quarter life crisis. The idea is starting to sink in: I'm turning 25. No longer just-after-20. Officially "Older" for an LDS single girl. In this culture, especially here in the Rockies, girls get married on average between 20 and 23. Some hang on a little longer, some earlier. When you get to around 24, 25, people start to get the Look. The look that says they nod and ask, "so, you went on a mission?"(instead of getting married, that must be why you're still single, right?) or "So, still looking for Mister Right?" (Because you must be awful picky since you haven't found a guy good enough for you yet) Or the "Oh, she's just not married Yet, but she has a Sweet Spirit!" (read: Is a good person who is mentally retarded, socially unlovely or inept, other deficiencies physical or mental)

If we're going to be literal, yes, I am one of those "Sweet Spirit" people. I do in fact have medically documented issues that add to me being terribly insecure about the whole dating thing, because I've seen how the LDS culture (NOT the religion, the Culture, which is a separate thing) treats the mentally ill or people who aren't normal. With fondness, pity, compassion, but not thoughts of romance or eternal partnership.
At what point in a relationship do you tell someone about your real problems, beyond daily frustrations and into issues that are likely to be a deal-breaker for most guys looking for sturdy stable eternal relationships?

Maybe this is too personal and will get edited later. I just needed to say it somewhere, I guess.
Hopefully, it's Not as Bad as I think it will be. I'm more or less ready to try trusting people and maybe dating again. We'll see.

(Almost) Daily Pearls of Wit, 5/24

Courtesy of my little brain:

"This internet connection. I hate it so much.
It's like a camel with a death grudge and a shot knee."

" I rerouted any accounts I have to a different system now. What a hacker may have thought was a whole-checking-account heist becomes the equivalent of a mothballed purse with a few crumpled dollars and subway ticket."

"The pinky is not strong enough for much use. All it does is seal off your grip if you grasp, say, a bar. And it makes you look elegant gesturing or drinking tea."

In Which I Set Priorities

I'd rather be accepted than corrected.
I'd rather be loved than helped.
I'd rather be listened to than instructed.
I'd rather have love and security than order and structure.
I'd rather feel safe than well-adjusted.
I'd rather be cared about than looked after.
I'd rather be happy than be productive.
I'd rather feel peaceful than successful.
I'd rather be with a few people I like than a lot of people I have to pretend to like.
I'd rather say what I feel than lie and make polite conversation.
I'd rather be honest than walk on eggshells.
I'd rather feel safe and accepted than feel accomplished and productive.

I'd rather be loved than helped.

In Which I Spill

The only thing really keeping me where I am right now is 35 lbs of white fluff and the fact that she needs me,

And if I leave now I can't take her with me unless I accept a place in a house that may not be as nice as I'd like.
Also, I can't physically move by myself. Well, I can, actually but I'd need a day to do it.

I can't live like a twelve year old in her parent's house with a bedtime and child's rules. I came here to get better and I am NOT getting better. I'm getting worse. Worse and worse. There's not enough daylight and I can't get out of bed. I don't have a sense of belonging except for ten by twelve square feet, which becomes my refuge from the rest of the world, and it's borrowed.
I need a life back.
I didn't realize how much this move would hurt my personal sense of dignity until now. I can't look myself in the mirror right now without a little bit of loathing because I feel trapped. I had hoped maybe living here would mean I'd get along better with my family having to be with them all the time but they're around me In Passing, making it hard for me to settle myself anywhere or do anything according to my own pacing, but also not really Being There either. Other than reminding me to get something else done I hardly speak to them, but I have little enough to talk about that doesn't get a response of disapproval.

Dolls. Fantasy writing. My "frivolous" therapy art and crafting.

None of it technically "productive".

Okay, fine. No, art is of no practical use to anyone. But it's been keeping me sane and for a little while every few days I get to be happy. No more pain, no more numbness, no more misery, Happy. I get to enjoy myself and feel happy. That hardly ever happens to me so I'll take it where I can get it, thanks, whether it's "Productive" or not, because my Will To Live is wayyy more important to me and Productivity or school or anything else.

If there were someone else who would take daily care of the dog I love, I'd be gone.

In Which I Try to Catch Up

So much has happened since last entry.
Biggest of all, I am an Aunt now. The Nephew is darling and pink and tiny and beautiful, and I have already begun on my plan to spoil him. I made him a pair of white moccasins with abalone shell buttons, I got his Mommy a bunch of little board books for him later, and a tiny stuffed sock monkey.

Also, it will not stop snowing here.
More later.

In Which a Statement of Beliefs is Made.

We talk about what we believe, like in God or not a god, in Pro Life or Pro Abortion, and so on and so forth, but do we talk about day to day beliefs that each individual makes their thoughts out of? I submit that we do not.

Well, I believe.
I believe in a rug for every cold spot on the floor.
I believe in German engineering for anything I have to drive.
I believe in computer technology.
I believe in polarized glasses.
I believe in naproxen sodium as painkiller par excellence.
I believe in never going through a checkout line on my cell phone.
I believe in braking early.
I believe in not killing any animal unless I have to, it plans to eat me or my food or property, or I plan to eat it. I toss spiders out windows.
I believe in unruly gardens.
I believe in swept floors.
I believe in stewardship as a measurement of character.
I believe in having my own place, nest, Spot.
I believe in using only toothpaste that tastes good.
I believe in avoiding most commercial perfumes.
I believe in real peanut butter. Not the store kind mixed with too much Crisco. Crisco is industrial lubricant and unfit for human consumption, butter-flavored or not.
I believe in bare legs, no nylons.
I believe in comfortable shoes. The zombiepocalypse could strike at any moment. I'm ready.
I believe in carrying a knife.
I believe in long coats.
I believe in staying young inside.
I believe in paws and wet noses.
I believe in sunlight.