Thursday, September 25, 2003

Perfect

I’ve been going through all of my things and many memories are being conjured up. I have a ceramic box with leaf prints that I made when I was a camp counselor. It’s not that great, but I can’t let go of it. Every time I look at it I wish that I had the other one that I made. But I made that one for a guy that I had a romantic fling with in Santa Fe, New Mexico. That box was perfect. It really was. I spent weeks paddling its form so that it would have perfect edges. Everyone who saw it said that it was perfect. The terracotta clay, the iron oxide, and the inside black glossy glaze were harmonious.

I don’t like the colors or shape of mine and it was obviously made with way less love. It looks like an afterthought, like “Oh, I want a box too, but I don’t want to spend as much time on it.” Sigh! Every time I look at it is a lesson in art making or anything-making for that matter: never hurry and do something half-assed because you’ll regret it later.

I just hope that S. still has the box. Or maybe it landed in someone else’s hands who can appreciate the energy put into it.

Wednesday, September 17, 2003

It Is Set In Stone Now

I gave my 30 day notice a couple of days ago. Yikes! I have finally set things in motion and it's unstoppable now. I've realized that I won't be able to do everything on my to-do list no matter how much I keep extending my departure date. (There are always new projects that get added on.)

I have one month and I've started collecting boxes. Here I go!

Thursday, September 11, 2003

Leaving San Francisco

I can't believe that I'm moving in almost a month. I have made such a home of San Francisco. This is where I came of age. Little did I know before I came here how much I was just cluelessly bumbling around with so much yet to learn. I arrived here after being with someone for 6 years. I was with him from the ages 19-25. I had become so used to being with someone. I didn't know how to make decisions on my own and my emotions were crazy.

Life was a little aimless and daunting. It took a year before I made any true friends; I had to go through a lot of people who were living unhealthy lives. I went through unemployment (and this was when everyone else around me was living high during the dotcom boom), lived in flats with creepy roommates (The worst was the place where the guy was always exploding on the toilet seat, watched porn openly, stayed up all night having speed sex with strangers, and had a friend who splattered blood all over the bathroom.), went on food stamps, and went out way too much to all of the clubs and raves (the scene was amazing).

Despite the craziness, I learned how to love, made wonderful friends whom I'll keep forever, met great people in the photo field, always paid cheap rent (I am currently paying about $340 per month!!), danced my ass off at some parties that I would call peak moments, and regained my creative edge. I have become happy with who I have become.

I seriously urge people to try being on their own if they haven't had a chance. Travel is a great way to do it, especially if you are happy with someone yet want to strengthen your sense of self. Traveling solo forces you to figure things out without the safety net of someone to catch you if you fall. But there are always memorable people you meet along the way.

Being an artist definitely helps me have a sense of who I am. I guess it gives me a purpose. That purpose may not mean much to anyone else but it means something to me, which is all that matters. Just finding that creative, nurturing voice inside all of us soothes the soul. I think that we are all seeking a way to enter that state of flow. It's about finding your passions and following them.

I think I'm ready to embark on this next chapter in my life. Underneath the fear and sadness, I'm looking forward to it. Who knows what lies ahead? I'm excited.
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