Friday, March 19

Art is Competition, or is it?

Yesterday marks the second official meeting with a group of women who have determined to walk through the book the Artist Way together.

I am blown away.

So beautiful and organic are our conversations that I’ve been touched deeper than by a paid counselor. The Holy Spirit is working. God’s truth about who He is making me is beginning to show up- the scratch ticket of my life, the one I actually win and it is exciting and scary.

I’m angry and sad too, grieving inside for my small child soul, who even at the age of six and seven weighed her strengths with those around her, one who compared herself with close siblings and peers. So ingrained is this practice that comparison defines me, limits me and lies, telling me I’m mediocre at best.

I’m average height, average weight, average skills and average job. I hate being average- but I feel it’s my destiny. Beauty is beyond my physical bounds, pretty will do. Being able to dance gracefully and seamlessly is a lost art I should have pursued as a child or young adolescent, now everything hurts so dancing is out of the picture- does a gym membership suffice? And, at least I’m paying the bills, isn’t that the point of working?

I think back to my childhood and I hear a censor in my head explaining vividly that my sisters sing stronger and clear than I, that the music I make is not beautiful and that my chance to move gracefully on the floors was lost because my desires to learn were not important. I hear a censor telling me that there is something wrong with me because I could not read in first grade, and so instead of reading I learned how to draw.

At age 7 in kindergarten when I shoved my homework assignments under other kids’ paperwork, so no one would see my answers, and cheated off other kids’ tests because I couldn’t read, I joined a coloring contest and lost. During that contest I had felt inspired, like I was creating something beautiful and worthwhile, I lost. Mediocre I told myself and at age seven, I silently vowed I would learn to draw beautifully- to be the best.

One of the deep seated problems I’m beginning to see between art and I, is that I have made it, above and beyond creativity, a competition. I’ve had a chance to dance ballet and Irish step dancing, I’ve had good output in visual art when I pursued it and I have a bachelor’s in drama, but none of that seem to be good enough to me. I’m not the best, I’m only mediocre.

It is ironic that I hate mediocrity, yet I’m willing to live a mediocre life instead of delve creatively into the work I believe God would like me to do. Fear of failing to impress other and not live up to the highest standards (my standards are likely much higher than anyone else’s for me) is tying me up to a mediocre life. I tell myself, why try if I know work will be sub-par? Literally, it is a vicious circle.

Yesterday, nearing the end of our group one of the women mentioned that it seems that, more than anything the creativity in each of us is being attacked by the enemy. She said that it does make sense since Satan, ultimately wanted to be the creator, to be God.

This hit me harder than I expected. At hearing this thought, I weep in anger and grief and also relief. I’m angry because it hurts to have pieces of my heart stolen. It hurts to know that there is an enemy who is trying to steal my desire to walk in who God has created me to be. I grieve because I know, living in the lies that the enemy has instilled in me has mangled many creative cells and lost valuable years in my creative life. And I feel relief, freedom, knowing that it is not just me that has failed, but that there is a greater force speaking lies to me. Knowing this, allows me to believe that if there is an evil force, there is its counterpart: the all good, all loving part that I can run to and find healing in- God.

So today…I’m weepy. Feeling tired (I didn’t have much rest last night) but good. I’m feeling a healthy death begin to take hold and I’m eager for more.

Wednesday, March 17

Kiss Me!

Yes, I'm Irish (recently I found out I'm in the fourth generation Scottish/Irish on my Dad's side) and almost forgot my green today.

But innovation stuck with me...
Safety Pin
Granola bar box
Printed four leaf clover

Here is a view of my handy work from the back.

From the front

Happiness is an Irish girl

Tuesday, March 9


Today, I woke up at 5:50 am to my alarm. After turning off the radio Fuzz (my cat) jumped onto the bed and laid on me, his usual routine. He loves being snuggled up close to me early in the mornings and won’t budge until I do- it makes me want to stay under the warm covers. Oh Fuzz, you are so cute in the mornings!

At 6:05 I stumbled out into the living room, which is chaotic right now full of empty bookcases and books sprawled all over the room because of a recent trip to Ikea that resulted in bringing home four various sized Billy, black-brown bookcases (finally, our bookcases match!), and cleared a spot to do my morning stretches. I used the Ergoscue method and it has been a life saver for my sore neck, shoulders and right ankle (I’ve had trouble with my peroneal tendon). Basically, the stretches relax me as I lay on the floor for about 50 minutes allowing gravity do its thing, readjusting my alignment. Our friend Paul calls them the lazy man’s stretches. So, if you need to stretch in the early hours I suggest using the Ergoscue method because who wants to put forth effort in the morning? You might as well gently doze and stretch at the same time.

(By the way, we chose the Billy bookcases over the prettier ones for the combined goodness of height, storage room, versatility and cost, and in a month or two we’ll be purchasing doors. We mostly used gift cards for them- I’ll post pictures at some point, when we’re done getting things back in order)

Once ready for the day Matt took me to work with a quick stop for coffee and a scone. The morning half of work went by like me sliding down an icy driveway- fast.

This afternoon I need to finish up a bunch of paperwork, Matt will pick me up, we’ll get home, eat dinner, feed the cat, then I’ll drop him off at guys prayer group and jet over to the U-village for tea with Steph then home again where, perhaps I can tackle the laundry from the weekend (we had a GREAT weekend by the way), go work out and then fall into bed (yes, I know one shouldn’t workout before bed, but there is nowhere else to throw the exercise today, isn’t it good enough that I at least do it?).

Here is hoping that I keep quickly sliding down the icy workway.

Monday, March 8

Minute Monday, A Fray in the Eye

Today I'm writing about a menial strife maker in my life. That’s right, the aglet. This is not a vindictive nickname for my husband, my cat or one of my co-workers; this is a piece of plastic or metal at the end of a shoelace enabling the lace to run smoothly through the eyelet (the little holes in your shoe where the lace goes through).

It seems that my aglets will last only a few months before they pop off and create a frayed end resembling the mop tops of Fraggle Rock. While I do like Fraggle Rock, having one of them as the tip of my shoelace is illogical and frustrating. Imagine trying to shove Wembley, head first, through an eyelet, he wouldn’t like it and you would feel bad trying to grab at his hair.

So, to save the frayed Fraggle heads from being pinched and pulled through my eyelet, I've learned that a small piece of packing tape wound around the frayed lace end works as a useful, temporary solution until I can make it to store for another set of laces.

Wednesday, March 3

A Short Whine

My desires are to live outside of someone asking me to follow their schedule and make them rich. Money is a frustrating thing- why money? I feel like I've been working my hands off trying to pay rent. No equity just living day to day in a place that has sky-high rent and mediocre jobs. I'm tired of it.

I know God says when we are good stewards of a little he gives more and Matt and I are really trying- we are.

Its just that I want to me a mom sooner than later, care for household dutes, spend some spare time when I have it painting or dancing or making great food for people. But this 8-5 plus 1/2 there and back is crap. I understand why working my 8-9 jobs i've gained weight, forgot what I like doing and hardly have time to clean.

I'm not saying I don't work for a good company (they are at the top of this list in everyway for their industry in this city)- I'm just saying that I feel a miles away from where I feel I would like to be.

So how do I get there....?

Tuesday, March 2

Lil' Update

It was a quite day at work despite being the main office staff. I hope that will be the general atmosphere for the rest of the week since I'm flying solo again, possibly tomorrow and definitely Thursday and Friday.

Meanwhile, I'm contemplative tonight and I need to buy groceries and then unwind.

Matt and I have a lot of choices we'll need to make in the next year and a lot of hard work involved with those choices. It's exciting and overwhelming.

Pray for us if you think about us.

Meanwhile, here are some pics.

The couch drawing....

Progress (I actually have the three bottom cushions done this is just a sneakpeak)

And a picture of Bombadil, aka, "The Fuzz"

Monday, March 1

Minute Monday

Where did “OrganizingLu” originate?

One of my nicknames for my twin is Lula. When we were little I was a neat-nick and she wasn’t concerned with being tidy so sharing a room was wrought with frustration. Then, in our adulthood (about 4-5 years ago) I had this idea of owning an organizing company and manufacturing company that made cool, functional organizating pieces. Essentially, a company that would help to “organize you”.

I mixed the idea of “Organize you” with “Lula” and came up with OrganizingLu or O Lu.

As of now, no further movement has been done regarding the company idea (since I have about 20 new business-life ideas each week) but the name stuck.