Too many things to do today.
Too many projects half-started, semi-finished, due, overdue, pending, and promised.
Yesterday, rather than do any of things I should have been doing I read a book for most of the day – a flawed book, with many digressions, yet with vivid characters and a layering of culture and personality and psychology and even a tiny bit of suspense that I just read and read and read and thought yes, yes, this is what it is to read, to dive deep inside an author’s imagination.
And so all the things that should have been done yesterday are also added to today (including grocery shopping, but hey, crackers are okay too) and the pile grows higher, but rather than do all those most urgent things I begin a deep cleaning out of closets and boxes in the basement, looking for old negatives (they must be somewhere, they have to be here), photography I used to do decades ago before digital, searching partly because I’d promised a blogging buddy I’d try to write something for him and maybe if I could find that old photo of the chair it would work with the post, and partly because yesterday I’d come across that dream I’d written up a year or so ago when I was looking for the description of that other dream, and realized that both dreams had images of paints and drawings and charcoals and pastels and thought how interesting, how wonderful, the subconscious drive in this direction, the apparently irresistible movement towards drawing and painting, given the growing pile of play things on my bedroom floor…
…and for the 2 hours that I can’t find any sign of old photos or negatives I wonder also if I took any pictures of the drawings and paintings I used to do, but when I finally find the box, Oh, look, there’s a couple of old sketches at least –
and I think, gee, I used to be able to draw, so hopefully it’s kind of like riding a bicycle and the memory of How To is still somewhere there in my fingers, or tucked away in some room in my brain, or buried deep in some level of viscera.
And in a fit of gleeful determination to take on yet more and more, to open up the doors wider and wider to what might be possible or might possibly get done, I sign up, I commit to write one paragraph a day for 30 days.
Here on the blog.
Just one paragraph.
Just one paragraph
Too many things to do today.
11 thoughts on “Just one paragraph”
I love the studio! Mine is like that, too… on the floor 🙂
Really?? Terrible for your back – or for mine, anyway. But I haven’t yet found or made a space on a table big enough to sprawl everything all around like that.
So…you have a studio…
Now i have something resembling a studio-come-catnip-drying-room out the back. I can’t paint, though… just throw colours about on canvas 🙂
There is more to painting than this? The catnip leaves me curious…
True… It’s the meditation of splashing paint around while listening to music.
Yes, I grow cat drugs! Just a hobby, really. I give it away to animal shelters and our local vets.
Kat, I find the rhythm of your words always mesmerizing, beautifully paced. And inspiring. Yes, write!
And draw, those are beautiful drawings.
(I am lucky to have a whole room as a studio, but my floor still looks like that…)
Okay! Thanks Karen!!!
I’m so very glad you were inspired to say something like that about a post that’s about things like not having bought any groceries.
And a relief to hear your floor is messy too.
Getting back to drawing and painting is a recent endeavour. If I stick with it, maybe I’ll think about getting a room…
Beautiful sketches. Love them.
Thank you so very much, Uzoma – am thinking it’s time to do more… K
Yes, please 🙂
This website was… how do you say it? Relevant!! Finally I’ve found something
which helped me. Thanks!