Where have you BEEN????

I've been looking for me again.  When I find me,  I'll let you know, you might look for yourself there too.  

A wee Scottish ditty:

Well, I just come down from the isle of sky
I'm not very big and I'm awfully shy
The lasses shout as I go by "donald, where's your troosers?"

Let the wind blow high
Let the wind blow low
Through the streets in a kilt I go
All the lasses shout hello
Donald where's yer troosers?

A lassie took me to the ball
And it was slippery in the hall
I was afraid that I would fall
Cause I was'nae wearin' troosers

Let the wind blow high
Let the wind blow low
Through the streets in a kilt I go
All the lasses shout hello
Donald where's yer troosers?

To wear the kilt is my delight
I'm never wrong 'cause I'm always right
The highlanders would get a fright
If they saw me wearin' troosers

Let the wind blow high
Let the wind blow low
Through the streets in a kilt I go
All the lasses shout hello
Donald where's yer troosers?

Well, I was drivin' in my car
Went downtown to kenny's bar
Fifteen scotches, five cigars
And I left without my troosers

Let the wind blow high
Let the wind blow low
Through the streets in a kilt I go
All the lasses shout hello
Donald where's yer troosers?

Let the wind blow high!
Let the wind blow low..
Through the streets in a kilt I go..
Donald, where's yer troosers..? 

k, that was a musical interlude, brought to you by my lovely dancing-with-scarves-in-the-living-room-with-my-sisters youth.

See, I've been looking for myself in my youth, amongst other places.  There, I found and reclaimed this as my song.  And, I found that I wish to draw and paint and create ALL DAY.

I've been doing other things too, like digging out rooms, purging STUFF, organizing paperwork...all the icky, boring practical stuff of life.  But, as I do this, I've rewarded my hard work with art.  If you get this done, you get to paint.

It's become like a disease.  I know you know what I mean.  You, and your yarn addiction.  Or is it tools? or jars, or green things, or books, or bouncy balls?  What about Halloween decorations, or candles, or blue glass?  Penguins? Pigs? Pots and pans? I know someone who can't pass a fish store.  I think their house is gonna break with all those tanks.  But they LOVE IT.  I love my disease too.  Oh, I could give it up if I wanted to.  Really.  I just got rid of a whole box of stuff from that room.  Yeah, yeah, I've dedicated a room to it. You can feel better now, because you only have a shelf for your addiction.  Or, at least you spread yours out, throughout the house, and it's pretty.  Perhaps yours is not so bad because it's functional, and that makes it so much better.  

Ha.  The lies we tell ourselves.  I have mine too.  I bought shelves to go most of the way around the room to contain my stuff. That it's spilling onto the floor, like in those awful tv shows, depicting sick, sick people who hoard, that doesn't matter.  I have shelves.

 I only spent .74 cents the last time I was in an art store. (???!!!)  Really. I bought 2 crystal bags; those plastic celo envelopes to slip flat art into and that has a sticky strip to to seal it.  But I'm feeling the need again.  It's not crushing.  Just like a little asterisk in my head.  I felt it last night "hey..." it whispered sweetly to me"...you need some more black acrylic paint...yeah, Ivory Black...."  at this point I start feeling totally fine about spending money I don't have "you don't have to buy the expensive kind, try the student brand this time..."  and now here come some choice words "...then again, you DESERVE THE BEST." yeah, and because that feels too good, I must bring out the frugal girl ".... Oh!  and to make the trip to the city worth while you might as well get some more of those crystal bags...." and then, the visual girl in me starts up "...yeah, and down that same isle is (dum dum dum DUMMMM) PAPER".  

I will admit (that's the first step, right?) that there is an addiction.  But I won't take the guilt any further (I'm reminded by my mosaicking how guilt is such a wasted, wasted emotion. Her whole basement is dedicated to glass tiles for mosaics...I call her my dealer. come, look at what I got this week!).  No, guilt is for people with problems.  I don't have a problem.  I have a LOVE.  Love is good, right?  I love painting and drawing and sculpting and creating. It makes me productive in other parts of my life.  I've even cleaned my studio up... even got validation from my minimalist father, who perhaps recognizes the addictive behaviour and the attempt to contain it. 

It's OK.  I could quit any time I want to.  But why would I want to?