recession, depression: what's the difference

when i find myself in the dumps i think of this piece of common advice "it could be worse". it makes me look at other peoples lives (at the things i don't want and am thankful i don't have), and i dig up some gratefulness at how my life is. i eventually get over my depression and move on. 90% of the time i am blissfully happy with living, even if i do take a pessimistic view of things.

but, lately, when i start looking at other people i've begun to also look at those whose lives seem better. it's not that i want their lives any more than i wanted the others. but it makes me look into that greeting card advice and confront it. is it so wrong to want a little more than your lot in life? not to change that which you have and are, but just a little something that can make it better?

all i want is a job i enjoy, one that pays the bills and gives me time to do my artwork, and one that lets me do a bit of traveling each year. i don't want to own a home, drive an expensive car, have a room full of clothes, eat out every night, or change much about my life. i just want to be able to go to the doctor when i need to and it not to cost me a two week paycheck to do so, i want to be able to put money aside for retirement, i don't want to have to worry about a drive to work representing 20% of that days pay going for the gas to get there.

right now, i don't understand how i got to this point in my life. i'm not whining, i'm not jealous of other people, i'm not saying life is unfair, it's just that i've begun to worry if it's going to get any better.

creativity in the face of the dismals

well, what have you been up to anastasia? hmm, maybe not as much as i thought. you'd think being jobless would free up a lot of time to just focus. but then you want to buy the materials with which you've envisioned a piece, and find that there is a downside to being without a job; a serious lack of funds. then you think, "what about that stock of stuff i've been building up for the last few years?", and you find that your tastes have changed somewhat.

or perhaps, i just like the thrill of ordering something, the suppressed excitement of knowing that something is in the mail, the joy of finding a package waiting for you on the doorstep, the exhilaration of opening a box, and admiration, which lasts ever so slightly in the passage of time, of your new acquisition before the urge to order something else takes hold of your senses. ugh. i think i have a problem. or, rather, an addiction. join the club.

then, there's other things which arrive in the mail which aren't so welcome; bills. with the lovely bit of financial reality i receive in the mail every month, i'm beginning to realize that i can't be as free with my heart's desires, that the old piggy bank ain't giving out one more dime. i could be over come with bleakness and dive into a deep pit of despair and depression, or, i could start looking closer to home for material to work with. you know, *cough* the cats, or something.

which brings me to my latest undertaking, spinning cat fiber yarn! i'm calling it turkish van fiber. sounds fancy, huh? well, they are decadently soft, these two kitties of mine. and they really love getting combed, plus they come in three colorways, auburn, black, and white, which mixes up to a greyish yarn color once carded. so, i've spun the cat hair onto a bobbin, and plied it with wool left over from my felting days (which weren't all that many now that i'm being honest with myself), and created a lovely mottled french grey yarn which is surprisingly soft.

i'll admit it though, i really enjoy spinning, and keep wistfully gazing at the pages of ox, alpaca, linen, peace silk, vicuna, qivuit, and guanaco fiber available these days on the internet. but, thankfully for my sagging wallet, i haven't pressed the purchase button yet. sigh. i want a job. a workroom assistant to a costume designer would be nice, or to work in a couture house sewing by hand for hours, or attaching sequins to a stage outfit, any of those would cause me to hyperventilate with happiness. oh, i don't know, one can dream i guess.

life outside of the pixel

i've been a bit absent lately, and am likely to be for awhile; my father is in the hospital, and we've been there everyday since, so not much time for art or blogging. he's getting better each day, thankfully, but it's difficult to see your parent as vulnerable, in pain, or not coping well with what is happening to them. i have time on my hands while sitting with my father, but the energies aren't right there, i don't feel like being at all creative.

for the most part i do not like change, i fight it, and even though i give in eventually it's never without a touch of regret. so often change is paired with fear; fear of the unknown, fear that it could be worse. i do not like the change this surgery is brining to my world. though, logically i know it was necessary, emotionally i all too often imagine the worse that can happen, so i keep looking for it, wondering in what shape it will arrive. fear and worry are my bedfellows, with panic for a pillow.

the ever present personality at play

happy new year's eve!

i spent the day rereading a favorite book of mine, robin mckinley's sunshine. then after a bit of green tea and delicious pound cake i did some cleaning to welcome in the new year. i try not to be superstitious, but some of it has creeped into my thinking sphere (thanks to my irish mother), so among other things, the urge to do some cleaning on the last day of the year becomes overwhelming.

before it became too dark, several rows of weaving were put in, a kasuri flower, and some zigzags on the sampler currently occupying my loom. i find such peaceful and happy moments in my studio; i question why i do not spend all of my time in it when i am elsewhere.

tonight was a delightfully filled dash around the internet, uncovering new places and discovering delicious things. ann wood, and her rugged owls, magical ships, and enchanting space occupied some time, along with visiting some of the blogs in my bookmarks. it fills me with different parts delight, envy, and inspiration whenever i discover the creative workings of others, and add them to people whose work i admire. ah, the human state of being, we are such tiring creatures.

well, with the new year, a turning of the page of life as it were, i will hopefully strive to become a person whom i admire. i will take that leap, and live up to my name by squeezing myself into the textile artist world; if it will have me is an entirely different concern. my optimistically pessimistic personality shows itself, i think.

...

sometimes it's as if i'm wandering through a snowdrift, so much sameness surrounds me. time passes, slowly, quickly, but it's hard to focus for there isn't anything to see. there are some peaks to this, moments of change, little, big, a frenzied happening. but then the whiteness of regularity engulfs me again. i wonder what i ever did with my life, how many opportunities i walked by in the snow, unrecognizable. there's comfort in the snow, the sameness. but i yearn, i yearn to find a place, build a nest, nurture my creative side. show that side to the world. but it's hard. i have yet to gather the strength to force change, just letting it pull me as if in a current. i want to reach out, to help myself to shore. but there's always something that holds me back from making the tough choices, the hard road, climb the ladder into unknown territory. but i want. i distract myself with my wantings. as if to say, here take this easy gift, forget the deeper one. the one which is more than a material wanting. the gift one gives oneself when you find what you're capable of. when you seek and jump; into the unknown, into the world, into what terrifies you in the deep wanderings of your mind. maybe this will be my year, maybe i am almost ready. i hope to find the signpost in the snow. to know which direction to go to seek myself. hopefully.

...

i worry sometimes that i'm not creative enough, that i don't push things far enough, that i'm really not all that good at things. it's fine when you're looking at what you just accomplished and see the worth in it, but when you put a price to what you make it all falls apart. i worry about that.
i have a love/hate relationship with my real life job. i like the majority of my clients, i like learning new things about the human body and the things we put on it. i don't even really mind doing the things i do. but a major part of me feels like a failure. that this job has eaten up my chances at being an "artist". well, for what it's worth on paper; that label, "artist".
there's good and bad about the internet and the things other people do. you come across and see what people all over the world are creating, but it makes what you do feel small, boring in it's relative safety.
for the most part, i'm in a bubble. i can see out but i don't interact with what i see. sometimes i feel so distant from art school, and i miss that interaction between one artist and another. it's the water and food that feeds growth. i've become stagnant. i yearn to grow but have trouble finding the path into the light.
i feel like i need to jump into an unkown, to quite my job at the spa and force myself to live my art, to force feed it, to give it what it needs to grow. but i'm complacent, comfortable in my half-living. what if that decision is a horrible one, a crippling one? i say i like change, but i don't. i hate to change too quickly, too drastically. i hate this about myself.

choosing to move the piece

reading a post from a fellow artist in blogland made me think about something i keep putting off; being happy with how 75% of my life is going, and feeling rather like a mushroom, content with my place in the forest beneath the heavy canopy, i keep avoiding making a physical move to another part of the country. in my mind i yearn to change; wanting a new creative surrounding, hoping i can encounter and thrive with other talents, growing and shaping my creativity, taking yet another step towards maturity and growth of self.
but in my heart i don't want to give up the things i have here. maybe it's not so much a mind vs. heart choice, as a choice to overcome my fears and current level of comfort. it's comfortable in my life with the exception of a few sticky thorns that i want to interpret as signs of needing change. but is only a little change neccesary or a much more drastic change?
at what point do you throw caution to the wind and take a chance? how many walls do you build to limit yourself before you realize you don't like walls?
there are days that i'm scared to death of moving, and days where i'm scared of losing myself if i don't move. live through the journey, i say to myself; but how to gather the strength to begin?