25: 8 down, 17 to go

I've been working on my Fall 25, and found that there are some that just aren't going to be possible, or some things that I want to do that I didn't put on the list. Its my list, so I went ahead and made some changes!

The biggest "change" was to include getting cupcakes from my local favorite cupcake place. I had to validate it somehow...

25 Things

I have posted here on my relationship with my nemesis, Winter. I am certain that my mood changes as the light wanes (for information on SAD), and so this year, I am working to prepare myself to do battle against my adversary. This plan includes light therapy, hour walks, and a list of 25 things to accomplish -- dares, a scavenger hunt, and a chance to do, make, think, journal. I made a little book (see my blog roll for many inspirations) and a list of 25 things for both the fall and the winter. I generously asked my husband for input (he will get dragged along on most of these things anyway), and tried to include all the things that we say "oh, why didn't we blankety blank this year?!" And even cooler, I've been telling everyone at work about it, and other people are making their own lists! But my hope is that I will not find myself trapped inside our apartment all winter, wondering what happened to the weekend. I want to make sure I am learning, active, living.

The book is constructed from the dividers that are used to sort index cards. The dividers are covered by cool paper. I printed the title on transparencies, and the list on white card stock. Both were designed in Illustrator. I learned the hard way that the printed transparencies do scratch, and so placed an additional transparency over the cover and the back, to protect the paper.

I cut out several types of paper and cut outs from my magazine stash to fill the book with pages. These pages will hold pictures, random things and info regarding each successful task. Truthfully, I'm not sure what I will need, but I think I made about 25 pages. The whole thing is held together with book rings from Staples. I'm still trying to decide how to sort and label each task once completed, but I'm thinking about these file labels I have, or mailing labels, and of course, my favorite date stamp.

And a sneak preview of the winter one:

CA: Scrapbook Update

Thought I'd share some pictures of the scrapbook so far. The picts aren't the greatest, and I'm trying to cut out pictures of people, but I'm proud of how its going! And I have a new addiction to scrapbook papers...I thought I loved fat quarters but I really love collections of paper. And corner rounders. And tags. And date stamps. Yay!

CA: The Beginnings of a Scrapbook

My husband and I recently took a trip to California to visit my brother and drive up the coast, ending up in San Fransisco (a place I've always wanted to visit) for my 32nd birthday. I've tried blogging the trip and making online photo albums, but didn't have a place for the great ephemera that we collected, like this awesome pamphlet on the left called "Don't Die in the Desert," complete with two exclamation points and a skull to let you know that they mean business. I decided to forgo digital in favor of a scrapbook.

I started by separating my photos and stuff into days, effectively breaking the journey into manageable segments to better tell the story. I then brainstormed (see right) and came up with the idea to create a front page for each day that would have a similar look. Each day page would have a map of the day's travels, a title, something showing mileage, and something showcasing these awesome date stamps I got from Staples. Since all the colors of California are in the greens, blues, creams, yellows and browns family, I decided on a deep, dark brown paper to build the day pages on (see below). I printed out maps from google, pulled out my huge letter stamps, found some packing tags (also from Staples) and practiced stamping some layouts.



In addition, I decided on this gorgeous green scrapbook (I love green) that has a chocolate brown tab, and the inside is the same rich brown that I wanted for the day pages.






Each day ended up with a map, labels and small pictures representative of some of the pictures to come. Plus a fun label with the location, mileage, and date, plus a (I think) clever title.



Some of the tentative layout for the airplane travel days...


Some shots of where the layout is now....



Next step: stamping the title and starting layout.

A month of organizing

All I've wanted to do is to focus enough to make something, anything. I need my art to process everything I'm going through at my job, but I couldn't get to anything in my mess of an art closet, and I couldn't work past all the noise in my head to sit still long enough to concentrate. To accomplish the impossible - organizing my art closet - I had to ultimately clean out my entire apartment and set myself moving forward. And so began my month of organizing.

It started one weekend when my husband started to pull out everything in our hall closet. We had leaking in our apartment the week before, almost ruining all our wedding stuff stored in boxes near the culprit window. I wanted to move it but didn't know what else to shift around. And he was desperate to get rid of, well, my stuff. And there are long stories about searching for a bigger apartment, buying a house, deciding on a state, and figuring out our adult lives that are as overwhelming as all of our stuff. We've become masters of using every corner, so trust me when I say it was A LOT OF CRAP. And we realized that we were still living two lives: 2 sets of everything seperately maintained all over our apartment, and it was bulging at the seams. This project took a solid day but was the one thing he and I could control, and we began to bring our lives together in a way they had not for 10 years. And bonus, you can reach in for the vacuum and not get swallowed by toilet paper, knit hats, computer boxes, and flower pots. Our paperclip collections have merged and now co-habitate a shared workspace. Very romantic.

This project felt GOOD. It was addictive, and so I had to do more.

From my file cabinet, I recycled several bags of papers and shredded uncounted bags more. I had intense inner arguments with myself about prescription receipts, instructions for TVs owned ten years ago, and remembered old jobs, old schools, old apartments, good and bad. Another weekend came and went, and my addiction grew. A wise friend pointed out that my organization addiction was related to a need to have control over something, and I began to realize how out of control my day to day life was: at work, I needed to be ready for anything and was exhausted for it; at home, I methodically set systems, recycled what I no longer needed, and felt a simple, tired soreness in my back and my brain from bending and sorting. I also felt something inside of me begin to shift.

And then, I was ready to tackle the art closet. I spent an afternoon going through my source material, finding poems, more magazines, letters from estranged family members, a sticker collection from my 8 year old self, half completed art projects. I began to untangle the material from the project. Setting aside nostalgia, I hacked through without mercy. The end result is a closet I can WALK into, collect what I need for my project, and return it at the end of the day.

I still have quite a bit more to accomplish in our tiny apartment, but we both find that we are more proud of our space than we have been for a long time. There are no more boxes lurking in corners, our space is functional and uncluttered (okay, that's a lie, but seriously, waaaaay better). And cheesy, yes, but I also realized a bit about myself. I have come a long way from my mom's basement, a lonely dreamer who didn't think she would go to college much less be married, with degrees and a career. I am still the one who hides money all over (shamefully I found $200 in cards kept in storage), who has way too many interests and is reading 6 books at once. But I have also joined myself in the present, choosing what items I want to keep with me instead of drowning in the muck and mire of the past. My job still overwhelms me, I continue to work on my relationship, I am riddled with home sickness and I have no idea what state I want to live in. But maybe now I can actually make something, maybe now I can let myself breathe a little bit and be in the present instead of burdened by the past and uncertain about the future.

5 Things I Love

1. Talking walks around the reservoir, spending more time sitting and watching the clouds than walking, catching the sunset while all the ipod wearing runners shuffle by.

2. Getting movies from Netflix, moving around my queue and daydreaming about being able to actually watch all those movies, and balancing out funny movies with independent ones to keep my husband happy.

3. Laying in bed on a Sunday afternoon, snuggled under my favorite threadbare blanket, reading books by Paulo Coelho.

4. Planning travel. And travel.

5. Leaving AND coming home during daylight.

And you?

The Letter

This is a post I wrote earlier this summer/spring, and wanted to share (and remember):

I wrote earlier that I would not forget Winter; but today I learned to remember Spring. Even without awareness, I had been thinking about endings (school), beginnings (getting married), and of thinking more expansively, planning to start over as I move closer to a new birthday. My energy levels are higher, my brain starts buzzing again, and it feels possible to pull out of the stagnation of Winter and move forward. The impetus for this awareness began one year ago today, when I was in my very last class meeting for my graduate program. The class was a celebration of a culmination, a time to reflect on many years of hard work. As part of that class, we were asked to write letters to ourselves. Those letters would be mailed to us a year later.

This morning, I got up early to go to a co-worker's party. I had to drive the same route I drive to work, and I was going to see co-workers, so it felt like a sixth day of work. I didn't want to go. Yesterday, I said goodbye to a co-worker I had become friends with; I was thinking a lot about not staying at my job for a hundred reasons. But I did go, stopping to pick up flowers, and laughing out loud at the man in the coffee outfit outside Dunks, doing the Roger Rabbit to get people to drink coffee. Trees are in full greenery, flowers line every house, lawns are a miraculous green, and the air is fresh and light. And I had a good time. On the way home, I let myself get lost, purposely driving a very different way home.

I thought about trying to set up a life here, and things felt more expansive than they have for awhile. I didn't feel so trapped. I didn't call home, I didn't worry, I just drove. By the time I got home, I felt good again. I checked the mail, and found the letter.

In that letter was advice about finding a job, and it gave me the freedom to look for a new one. That letter also reminded me to buy a house, a dream I've had for years and years now that never seems to come true. And most importantly, in that letter was a letter for my husband, who one year ago was my fiance. It was a reminder to love him, love him, love him, and a subtle reminder to love myself.

I've been thinking that its possible to carve a life out here, and to let myself do that. But I need to make things shift and think more expansively.

A Playing Card Book - An update

I've been experimenting with my playing card books, with some success and some interesting accidents. I posted the beginnings of my first experiment about a month ago. I found that by painting the cards first and then gluing on images, the cards curled up and refused to lay flat. To attempt to remedy that, I placed my iron on top of the pile of cards and left them overnight, which was not my brightest idea. I checked them in the morning and found a soggy mess as the iron had leaked all over the cards. I had to tear cards apart, leaving ripped paper behind. Annoying, but also a very cool effect (seen in image to left). I've decided to let it be, and am pleased with the messiness of it. The point of making these books was to experiment and just make something, not to do something perfect. So I'm thrilled at the happy accident of it all but not so pleased that the pages still curl too much despite being weighed down overnight. My next step has been thinking about the images and beginning to add some writing (seen in image to right). I've noticed some themes of freedom and self-identity showing up in this little book.

I also started making a new book, after deciding that I wanted to process some recent losses in my family. I've glued on the images and began altering them with paint. I plan to go back and write in the stories. Because of the difficult nature of this project, it seems to be taking longer than anticipated. But the other purpose of this experiment was to do a little personal art therapy, and use art to process some of my thoughts/feelings/experiences. So I will just let it happen when its ready to come out.

The Altered Book Project

Last weekend, we drove by a gorgeous red farm house with a huge pile of books lined along its picket fence and a sign that read "Free Books." While I love sorting through a pile of free books, I'm never quite able to find what I'm looking for. Usually there are a lot of paperbacks, cheesy books on romance, finances and self-image. I daydream about finding a treasure trove of hardback books with old, library book covers, those textured fabrics and imprinted lettering. If the pages are yellowed with an old font, even better. And I covet books on maps, science, with technical drawings and antiquated instructions. This pile of free books was better than expected! I took home two bags of really spectacular finds, a hard back Lord of the Rings set, two atlases, and one old school Weight Watchers cook book, among many more.

I've been looking for a find like this for awhile because I've been planning to make some altered books, both for myself and with my clients. An Altered Book is literally a book that has been modified into a piece of art. It can be sliced into, pages glued together, cut out or folded up to make envelopes, secret hiding places, drawers and holes. The pages can be added to, painted, decorated, decoupaged, stamped, sewn, burned, torn, and can become something completely beyond what its original purpose was. The original book can be non-existent.

As a book lover, the idea of altering a book is a bit crazy. It feels wrong to do. However, the therapeutic symbolism of it is a powerful metaphor. By taking something old, unusable, something in bad shape, or out of date, and taking control of it, morphing it into something beautiful and unexpected, is transformative. In addition, the inherent narrative of the book can support the telling of the narrative of a person's life, piecing together an individual's journey. Here, a person gets to literally re-create their story. And taking control of my narrative, my life, is incredibly important. The altered book can be like a journal, and there is no right or wrong way to do it, only experimentation. A page can be worked and reworked, removed if necessary. I love it, I love seeing what comes from it, I love the freedom of it, and I love the unexpectedness of it.

And now that I've found this secret stash of gorgeous books, I have no excuse but to get started. That beautiful green atlas will be the first one I get started on, and I'll post updates here. As for those other books, I think its time to get started on planning a Altered Book group for my clients.

Forgetting Winter

The winter here in New England has been brutal. I started a new job in September, and of course had no sick or vacation time accumulated in preparation for the inevitable snow day (hello, this is the land of Nor'easters). I didn't realize (although a sinking place inside of me knew it was coming) that it would snow weekly or sometimes bi-weekly. Oh or for days in a row. In the midst of this, I had this ridiculous push to build up my case load and see a certain number of clients every week. The funny thing is, clients don't come when its a blizzard outside. I think our concept of "mentally ill" is ridiculous: who is more crazy, the person who is wise enough to stay home or the idiot who works during a white out for a company that never closes? It was me who was depressed; every day was gray and dreary, I can count the sunny days because I desperately sucked in every last drop of Vitamin D, huddled in a wrap, with my feet perched on a second heater in my cold office painted a mocking sunny yellow. Bah.

Today was a brilliant blue day, highlighted by the trees popping fresh greens, whites and pinks. My office window was open; I drove in with my sunroof tilted, music blaring, hair blowing, relaxed happiness. There was a sense of relief in the air, everyone was lighter, laughing, smiling, remarking, "Its a beautiful day outside!" The radio DJs even went so far to say, "Spring in New England is why we suffer through the six months of winter."

Ah ha! Well, to you Winter, I say: I will not forget you. Oh, yes, I may have conquered you and your icy mounds of thundersnow with my wickedly expensive snow tires and superior traction control. I fought against your frigid temperature, with gloves mailed to me from a far warmer climate (and they were worn with a lovely sense of irony) and my dear, life saving heated seats. I even made due with my coat for one more year, and dutifully carried around my snow boots. I think your most devious move has been your darkness. I thought I would barely crawl out of the shortness of your days - eating french fries once a week was the only thing that saved me. I found myself desperate for even the tepid heat of the sun. I had to restraint myself from bringing home boxes, packing my belongings and running away. I begged my husband to move - anywhere - and drew up pie charts and lists proving that we had to move. You almost had me Winter.

But today's New England, I could stay for this. Until it becomes clear that Summer is pathetically short, and Fall settles again. I am not a fool for the brilliant foliage - I know what is coming. You and me, Winter, we are not friends. You challenge me, deplete me, and make me fat and lazy. I can't stand you and your icy wet coldness. I will not forget.