GentleSoul Arts

Living a Creative Life


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2 months later

What day is it?  What month is it?

I don’t get out that much to begin with but with “shelter in place” and social distancing rules, I feel like I’m in a weird limbo.

I’m not into talking on the phone.  Zoom meetings aren’t the same as meeting in person. I feel on stage on a video call.  People watching isn’t the same.

In the beginning, I was overwhelmed with all the Draw With Me videos and live streams. I’ve managed to consistently watch Stefan Bucher draw his daily monsters on Youtube.  I don’t contribute much to chat.  I’m not an open person, but now I feel even more closed up.

I bought a Switch Lite and Animal Crossing New Horizons.  I’m reading Providence by Max Barry.

Maybe soon I’ll be able to meet with friends at a bar or coffee shop.


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Social Distancing

You’ve probably heard about the Covid-19 pandemic and everyone is encouraged, if not forced, to practice social distancing and self quarantine. I got a new phone a few months ago, and figured this would be a good time to set up my WordPress app.

I created a quick sketchbook flip through on YouTube, I’m about to complete my current sketchbook, I’ve tackled some organizing projects I’ve wanted to do around the house, and I’m about to go clean out my closet.

I’ve participated in a The Artist’s Way book discussion with my art friends on video. I’ve rewatched some Sketchbook Skool classes I’ve enrolled in. There are so many art prompt and draw with me live streams, music concerts live streams. I think even though we’re isolating there is more connection.

The dryer beeped that the sheets are finished so I can finish making the bed back up. I’m hoping eveyone is making the best out of the situation we all find ourselves in.

Remember to wash your hands.


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Obligatory Year-End Post 2019

Maybe 2020 will be the year that I actually write on this blog regularly.  I think that every year.  But I am tired of social media.  I think I’d rather put energy toward the blog and my visual journaling.  I think that every year too.

Another decade is about to end.  A lot has happened since 2010. Major life changes.

  • I’ve worked for 5 different companies, due to buyouts and spin-offs.
  • We lost 1 dog (Murphy) and 2 cats (Jet and Onyx) but welcomed 2 new dogs to our family (Jarvis and Vision).
  • My father-in-law and my mom passed away.
  • My oldest got married.
  • I stopped dancing and gained a lot of weight.
  • My husband got a CPAP machine so I no longer sleep on the floor.
  • I traveled by plane for the first time in 20+ years.
  • I started geocaching (2012)
  • I started Postcrossing (2013)
  • I bought an iPad to start drawing digitally.
  • I’ve filled up 12 sketchbooks.
  • I’ve made some wonderful friends online and in real life.

I don’t plan on making specific resolutions.  I mainly want to focus on more art.  More creating.

Happy New Year y’all.

 


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Artist Date

I have Friday Nights blocked out on my calendar for my Artist Date night and tonight’s creative project was making bath bombs.  I’ve made them a few times before, buying the little metal molds on Amazon so they would look like “real” bath bombs purchased at one of my favorite smelly stores in the mall. 

Since I was on an Oil of the Month subscription, I began to amass plenty of essential oils and was wondering what use them for.  Making my own bath items sounded like fun. I could be thrifty by saving money on bath and beauty products. I wouldn’t need to buy them since I could make my own.  After I purchased the molds, the ingredients, factoring in the price of the oils … was it really saving me money? Time was another factor and the biggest drawback of all…

I don’t enjoy making them. 

Tonight’s Artist Date helped me realize that.  There was more time in the prep and clean up than making anything.  I didn’t experience enjoyment during the creative process.  For all the time and effort, I got 3 large bath bombs, 3 small ones (one didn’t stick right so it’s 2 small ones and 2 halves of a small one), and a jar full of powder that wasn’t enough to fill the smallest mold.  They’ll need to dry for 2-3 days now. It just isn’t worth the hassle. I’d rather go to that smelly store in the mall, or buy some made locally from someone who absolutely loves making them, and/or it’s one of their main sources of income. 

I’ll plan a future Artist Date to browse local art hubs looking for locally made bath products, splurge a little on myself then enjoy a hot bath with a glass of wine & a book.  I posted that tonight’s Artist Date was a bust, but I did learn something about myself so it was worthwhile.


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Adventures in Cycling

I am now almost into a month of cycling.  I’ve had my 1st dropped chain (had to walk the bike back home to fix it but now I have some techniques for a fix on the fly).  I’ve hit a few minor distance goals and a few major ones.  Well, major to me at any rate. I still have some goals to go (ride a total of 10 miles, save for a road bike, get a proper hitch and bike rack)  but I see progress and that’s encouraging.

I also had my first attack the other day.  By a bird. A Mississippi Kite to be exact.   I was riding on a lake trail, a short 6-mile ride.   There’s a small hill coming back from my turn-around point, and I’m all over achy.  I’m repeating my mantra “You don’t have to go fast, you just have to keep going” as I’m pushing all I can to get up this very tiny incline.

Then…  WHAP!!   I thought “WHAT THE HELL, SOMEONE THREW A FRISBEE AT ME.”  Then I think “but there’s not a disc golf course nearby…” WHAP!!  Hit number 2. I see the bird as it’s flying upwards on my left and perches at the top of a nearby tree.   He/She is glaring at me. I’m pedalling as fast as I can to get out of this bird’s area while bracing for attack #3.   Luckily, there were only 2 flybys (and not the Strava kind) but I’m not sure I’ll ride that area of trails until I am faster and manage inclines better.

Today is a rest day.  I’ll stay off the bike and mow the back yard instead.  Hopefully, I won’t draw the ire of any more birds.


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It’s too early to think of a title

I just finished my morning coffee and I’m thinking about things I have planned this weekend.  The writing group is meeting and another group is starting to work through The Artist’s Way.   My mind wandered to morning pages, blog posts and why do I write.  Do I really want to write?  I used to keep journals until I read through some of my mom’s when she passed.  I don’t want to leave daily rantings and bitching behind for my family to read and think “Wow, was she really this unhappy?”   I systematically started shredding mine, although there may still be a few left in my closet.  I need to shred those as well.

I guess I need to remember I’m NOT my mom.  But I’m probably more like her than I want to admit.

As I was pondering journals and posts, I realized I have 30 mins before I need to get ready for work – why not just write a blog post.   I grab my little Chromebook that is drying to bleed cyan and here I am.   I’m not sure where my train of thought was going.  It seemed like a good substantial post until I started typing.  Now I’m not sure what my point was.

I need more coffee but I’m out of creamer.  I haven’t yet developed a taste for black coffee.

I guess I can count this as a stream of thought writing, although it’s not in longhand in a spiral notebook.  I did have a point to make before I sat down to write. I should really work on drafts in Word before posting.

 


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My Mind is Numb

I want to be consistent with this writing thing, but when I sit down with my laptop, I don’t have any ideas.  A lot has happened in the last 3 days.  Worried mama type things. Spontaneous crying.  My son had an incident at work. A fall causing a seizure, or a seizure causing a fall.  No one saw what happened. A phone call from the paramedics asking what hospital I wanted him to go to will haunt me.  I arrived at the ER expecting to see him unconscious, hooked up to machinery. He was standing, putting his shirt back on. One side of his face was covered in dried blood.   A cut on the side of his head. I know head wounds bleed a lot. A fractured vertebra we found out about later.  They took him for a scan.  I heard on the intercom “Code Blue in CT Room 1”  I knew it was him.   He doesn’t remember much from the hospital, and virtually nothing after the second seizure and was medicated.

Luckily, he’s back to himself now, despite random bouts of nausea and vomiting. (I honestly don’t need to hear your explanation of concussion symptoms. I’ve been given more advice on concussions (which he was NOT diagnosed with) than a pregnant woman gets on childrearing.)

The coming week will be busy.  The next few months my routine will be disrupted.  I don’t care about any of that, as long as he’s okay.  I’m trying to not hover like a mama hawk. Technically, he IS an adult.  I’ve hugged him more the last 3 days than I have in the past 3 months.  He knows I’m worried.  Luckily, he tolerates me.   I hated when my mom treated me like a child even when I was in my 30s and 40s.  I honestly don’t think she ever saw me as a functioning adult.  I’m working on giving him space but being available if needed.

I know moms who have lost children. I can’t even begin to imagine what they have gone through.  I feel like my worry is, insignificant? compared to their experiences.  And I feel guilty.

I’m focusing on catching up housework, and laundry.  I went out for a while and sketched.  I’ve mowed.   I decided to write although I feel this is more of a rambling stream of consciousness.   Maybe getting it all out of my head will help.  Or I’ll just go clean out the fridge.