A Very Satisfactory Saturday

I’ve thought a lot lately about writer’s block and art. Or, well, the lack of art seeing as that’s the cause for my writer’s block. I often put words down to clarify my thoughts and emotions. Be that via typing or journaling. Sometimes journaling isn’t enough (especially in this case). It’s almost as if the words need to be exercised out into the ether. You see, I stated a little over a month ago whilst in an airport that I was working on an article and it would be out shortly. I finished it and then two days later I turned that completed article into Part I of a two part article. Then I flew back to Missouri where I am currently stationed at my parents house for my post-graduation summer and promptly accidentally on purpose did nothing with it from that day forward. It’s still in my drafts, it’s still Untitled, it’s still mostly (but still definitely not) finished. And I thought that was on me. I thought I was just being an unproductive, lazy, silly goose. Except… I clearly had enough spare time to read an entire seven book (each roughly seven hundred and fifty pages) series within two and a half weeks whilst working forty hours a week and going through all my worldly belongings to prepare for my next move. So, what really was the problem?

Perhaps I’m preaching to the choir on this one. Perhaps others relate. I know for sure this was my behavior in University—but mostly I think that’s just called senioritis or procrastination. And yet, I still always ended up getting my art completed when I lived in Chicago, I often didn’t leave projects unfinished. So again, I was stuck. I found a lot of rejuvenation in New York. I went on a trip by myself to visit friends and to just take a break after how much I worked myself in the last eight years of school and jobs. I thought it would be good to take a vacation by myself. And it was. I felt absolutely liberated being in a city by myself again. I walked all over, I read a book in the park as I listened to a jazz band. I saw a hilarious new play on Broadway with an all female cast (POTUS on Broadway, in case you were wondering. I give it a raving endorsement!) and took myself out to dinner. I even got to nerd out like you wouldn’t believe at the Harry Potter New York store. I made a plethora of new friends at a speakeasy in Flushing after convincing myself I was only going to have one drink and some truffle fries. I ended up staying for several more drinks, they were really entertaining companions! I got to make fun of them a lot and was still tucked into my hotel room in time to get a full nights sleep before work in the morning. I was absolutely convinced that once I came back from that trip that my enthusiasm and natural energy would be replenished and I would get so much done in the month and a half I would be back in my hometown. Alas, I gave myself too much credit on that one. I mean obviously, I still work full time and get lots of things done. For instance, Atlas has had three visits to the vet and is already on his second dose of prescription meds. So like, I’m on a roll right? Working cat mom for the win. I just don’t feel artistically inspired to do work like I did when I lived in New York and Chicago. And then I went to a Stone Temple Pilots concert with my family in Milwaukee and we got to see my grandparents before we came back home. 

“I believe the art that graces our surroundings seeps into our hearts.” A fabulous quote that resonates soundly with me, courtesy of Barbara Grant. Or as I like to call her, Nana Barb. She’s my grandma, if you didn’t guess that by the ‘Nana’ part. When we were visiting before traversing home, she mentioned a painting of hers to my mom about lobsters, everyone knows my mom (and to a lesser extent, my sister and I) are enamored with lobsters because they were my late Granny’s favorite. They covered her walls in metal hangings, decor, wallpaper, I even have shoelaces I found in her things that I laced into my converse. She adored lobsters and now we love them for her. But in looking at that lobster painting that she was offering my mom, she also offered us some of her artwork that we all ended up fighting over. Well not fighting per say, but definitely attempting to lay claim over one another quite loudly while saying “That one’s mine!” Including my sister on speakerphone. Needless to say, we went home from that trip with thirteen very large canvas paintings. Luckily my sister and I will be living in the same place for the next year because I fully intend on convincing her some of the paintings should reside with me forevermore. Not that she knows that yet. But this all leads me to the conversation that I had with my Nana about art before we left. We absolutely are twin flames, such weird and silly gooses together. My mom was saying it’s a good thing we’re not the same age because we would have been comedic menaces to society. She didn’t put it in as many words, but I knew what she meant. We’re hilarious together. But that’s another article. The conversation was about how glad she was that we appreciate art and enjoy it in the way we do. And I told her about my block. My current stopper on the wine bottle full of juicy details and wildly odd stories that I know would be wonderfully put into words, if only I were able to find them. So, she told me that quote that she keeps attached to her artistry. Well, actually, we had to word find a bit because we both have such chaotic brains, but we did get to the actual verbatim quote eventually. 

It’s terribly disheartening to have an artistic block as someone who literally just graduated with her degree in acting. At first I thought it was just because “I’m a city girl, ooh I’m so quirky and I can only do such spitfire work when in a big city” but that’s not it. The reason I feel so inspired and refreshed just walking down the sidewalk in the city is because there’s so much art everywhere. The architecture, the music, the chatter, the fashion, the literature, the nightlife, the content, the people. Not all of that can be found in my childhood bedroom. In fact, most of it can’t. I mean, yes, I have found such joy in the literature I’ve been engrossed with at home and just posting my book reviews as if I’m a book club of one. I really do enjoy it. And I enjoy the music I’m finding both on my own, through my friends, and via soundtracks to the movies on my watch lists that I’m finally getting through. But it’s different. I enjoy the laughter that is so common between my mom and I, the combined retail therapy we should not be allowed to participate in but somehow find ourselves a part of every week. After which, we show each other the itemized list and pictures and conspire about when the packages will arrive. No, seriously. Last week we were making massive purchases from Shoedazzle and DSW and this week it’s clothes, Chewy items for the animals, and mass stock of our favorite flavors from Dwayne Johnson’s ZOA’s. At least we’re in this one together, and to be fair she did tell me I need new clothes! I’ve had a lot of the same clothes for the last 5 years, which I have styled in new and creative ways. But still, clothes from my senior year of high school and college underclassmen days are not really something I enjoy anymore. It’s time to move forward and find things that match all my precious heels. We all know how much I love them.  My point is, realizing this is because of the art that surrounds me versus my actual geographical location is relieving. It’s nice to know that when I am settled in my next place and look at my wall, I’ll see my Nana’s exquisitely immersive art. I’ll see a closet full of clothes that fuel my energy and liveliness and actually get to wear them outside of my house! I’ll finally get on the exercise train, and I really mean it this time! I’m actually going to start working out regularly again. I realized a lot of this today because I went for a run. Because when you don’t have access to a car in a town where a car is required to get around, when you’ve spent the last several days on your own property (by choice, but still), and need to get up and clear your head enough to be able to keep one single train of thought—you go for a run. Well, I’ll be honest. It was thirty-five minutes of fifty percent running uphill and fifty percent walking and working on my movement posture. Baby steps. Besides, I said uphill so that counts for something. It was on this ‘run’ that I was able to clear my head enough to keep my overthinking/chaotic/anxious brain at bay and realize that what I have is an artistic block based on my surroundings lacking the stimulation my soul feeds on. And that was gratifying. To be able to put that into words and understand what it meant. It was also gratifying that it was my own choice to work out and my mom didn’t have to try to convince me. In whole, a very satisfactory Saturday. I also realized that while I’m not surrounded twenty-four/seven by the art I previously referred to—often the overlooked details to an overarching whole—watching the banter between Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds in The Proposal is always invigorating for me. A good book is equally as satisfying, a soundtrack to a movie, the colorful label on a wine bottle. My recent favorite was my mom coming into my room randomly and saying “I was thinking we could get matching tokens, to show we are a team. You have your dress, I have my shoes…” As she modeled her new pink knit wedges whilst holding my freshly washed dress that just so happened to match. When I say I GUFFAWED. She was so proud of herself for that Hunger Games reference. It happened three days ago and I still keep bringing up how funny it was to her. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it until the cows come, art fuels the soul. In whatever form you can find it in. In whatever inspires you. But it’s okay to feel it’s loss, because that only makes it that much more satisfying when you are enveloped with it. And that’s my cue to finish my book then watch another movie off my watch list. Let’s hope for something fulfilling!