If it's Tuesday.........

If it's Tuesday....

I look at the last four days of the week and try and guess how quickly they will pass.  The time is now 13:25 PST.   I cannot begin to count the number of phone calls I have taken or how many questions I have answered.  The same 15 or 20 questions.  Is Mr X there?  Can you cancel my appointment?  When was I there last?  The repetition grates against my nerves. 
I bring things from home to work on,  compiling insurance information, craft supplies, books I know I will not be able to read because I won't be able to concentrate fully.  The more things are on my  mind the more things wind up in my backpack.  It weights at least 20 pounds today.   The more that's on my mind the more goes into the bag.  I lost a fish this morning.   I am sad, but not overly so.  It's strange to admit.  
Bye Bye pretty Myrna , Godspeed and thanks for stopping by.

How many ducks are in my row?

Organization seems to be something you either belong to or practice.  The old is it a noun or verb?  It's is the bane of my existence.  I buy fabric I love but don't use because once it's home it's lost.  I collect pens, and thread and needles in order to create something.  I guess my lack of clarity is echoed in my living environment.  Clarissa Pinkola Estes outlined it as a common problem among wanna be "artistes".  It boils down to the fear of being responsible to my expression.   I hope the "Artist's Way doesn't have a solution to this problem.  I have two copies that I have never read.  Somehow I find that really honestly funny.  Maybe I'll give all the fabric and yarn away or start only what I plan to finish. Those concepts seem just as absurd.  I always want to prove that I can conquer some needlework skill, embroidery, knitting, crochet, sewing.... all methods to avoid theatre and writing.  Well at least this blog is some form of outward expression.  Quack Quack Quack

Gentle Nudging

Hello One and All,

So, here I am, astounded  at the simple success of following directions.  Technology  has always been  a spector,  floating over my shoulder and laughing in my ear.   I have decided to tell that malevolent ghost to go to hell.  I have too much creativity to waste my time planning.  It's  time to start doing.  

A website of my own.   Dedicated to whatever is racing around in my mind and running down through my fingers and on to the keyboard.   A gift from my Brother.  His way of nudging me to write I guess.I am always needling him to continue drawing and painting.   Writing was my first real  passion.  I scribbled long before I crocheted or sewed or embroideredd anything.  Its writing that led me to theater and to directing.  Thank you again my Brother.
So away we go.........sc