How to save your life...

“Don't run away.

I’m not running away. I’m already gone.”

― Kami Garcia, Beautiful Darkness

While passing some time with a couple of friends, recently, that old chestnut, re the role of men and women in modern society and relationships, popped up. The general consensus was, neither sexes still understand each other and what we want seems all a bit muddled.

I’m a wee bit of a commitment-phobe. Well, I spend far too much time thinking about the possible scenarios that may happen during the initial stages of a relationship. Like all the work that may be involved and thus, missing the point of the true value of  sticking with something/ someone.

While my love stands before me, looking slightly perplexed, I sense a question coming into his head. As I run for the door, believing his best intentions are chasing me down, he calls after, “I was only asking about the soccer scores!”. I’ve made my bed, slept in it, leapt out early morning to escape the possibility of “happy ever after”. It's all pointless. It's like beginning a race and half-way through, running back to the start line.

My perfect mate may well be the archetypal cave man. He has no time to sit around allowing me time to think, “is this right?”. Instead of waiting for me to come back to earth, he gives one sharp tap over the head with his club and proceeds to drag his new love away to his cave. Sometime later, I wake up. My eyes adjust to the semi darkness, shoulders drop, I sigh heavily. I start to think. How the hell I am going to improve this place?

A little something for the procrastinator in you….

How not to run away!

Instant Crush

“She goes very still and I can count on one hand all the times we’ve been here before,standing at the precipice of almost and staring down into the abyss of what-if.”

― Kat Kruger, The Night Has Claws

For those of you who were living under a rock during the year that was 2013, Daft Punk made an impact, musically, digitally and emotionally. They helped wear down the heels of disco shoes and made the uncool feel dreadfully cool while driving in summer heat with the window down. Yes, we had sunny days in Ireland in the year that was 2013. The cosmic love made between Daft Punk and Sunshine, led us to believe we (the Irish) could be sexy and cool, at the same time.

Going back to point, Julian Casablancas paved a pathway to my heart with his vocals on the track, Instant Crush. Casablancas sings in his enchanting, fractured tone, about finding love but not fully realising what else is involved, until it’s too late. There is slight regret but ultimately, the song is a realistic love song.

The Song

Being in love is on a par with being insane. Does that mean that since the age I picked up a pair of knitting needles and fell in love with their long, cool bodies, I was certified, mad? Knitting and I have a tumultous relationship where I feel at certain times its unrequited on the side of the knitting. My knitting is the bastard of all knitting. I constantly remain hopeful things can only get better. I reminisce on the moments of pure perfection when what we can produce together is just short of ingenius! And then my son-of-a-bitch knitting goes awry, gets bored and feels “not in the mood”. My relationship with my knitting & work can be described in the words of Daft Punk, as “a world within me I cannot explain. Many rooms to explore, but they all look the same”. Synthesised poetry in motion.

But what is life without love? Wrapping yourself in cotton wool only makes you prone to vulnerabilty. The cotton wool has you then! Letting go of all the bad in my craft will, I believe, enlighten me to produce real works of art. A real baby I can be proud of.

Sometime later....

 ....Rabbit was born!

This must be the place

“Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as a secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh.”

― Leonard Cohen, The Favorite Game

I have a scar. Well, I have several scars, some psychological and some flesh scars. When I was 2, I managed to pull a kettle of boiling water onto myself leaving a nasty memory of what pain felt like and a permanent scar of what was and what was to come.

Growing up, I hated the scald mark that disfigured me. I felt it was a blotch that would affect my right to happiness, that, god forbid, I would be deemed, imperfect. But that’s when I believed that on your pathway of life, pretty parcels of tried and tested, portions of life, were handed out. While the cleverer people choose those options, my imperfect self, idly choose the pick n’ mix. There is a knack to making sense of this mixed up buffet of choice, however, there are no rules and no guidelines.

Whether its vacuuming your vacuum cleaner, methodically eating a raspberry jam sandwich, every day or always looking under your car before getting in, we all have our tics or oddities that help make us feel complete. Even allowing all those ‘imperfect’ souls into your gleaming existence, can help make you feel more accomplished.

http://www.newscientist.com/special/ten-mysteries-of-you

I allow ‘strange’ into my life, as I believe, you must let the external strange seep in, to allow the internal crazy to come out. Like osmosis, helping create a peaceful equilibrium. I’m not crazy I just understand I have a little bit in me. For all the mistakes made during the tumultuous growing up years, the bad choices taken from that ill-defined pick n’ mix, I can’t begrudge myself the happiness I feel now for understanding myself and liking who I have become. The conventional would never suit, and if that had been chosen, my life would be very different but that story will never be told. 

Just for a reminder on how fantastic The Doors were and a quick nod to the late, Jim Morrison .... People are strange

Much Loved

Progress is man's ability to complicate simplicity.

Thor Heyerdahl

Changes…..in seasons, hair styles, books. January despite being the first month of the new year has been labeled the month of new beginnings. However, September is the month, people are most likely bring about positive change in their lives. September is the month of new beginnings. January seems the obvious choice but then again, by the end of the month, the money is all gone, the weight has stuck with you and your dream of giving up the day job to follow ‘the book within me’ is eye turning upwards, inducing.

There are some positives to January, however. Well, my birthday falls on the 30^th making me one year older. Ugh! Okay, there is plenty of fresh air blowing what with these storms brewing. Oh! The micro economy of the healthy living industry will have a mini boom due to last until, at least, the first week of February. Mmm….So far, not so good.

Wait! Just heard through the grapevine, there is a Teddy Bear Exhibition showing in Dublin. January has its bonuses too…a great month to reminisce and therefore, enable us to look forward positively. The beloved soft toy has been praised and respected for decades but more recently has been allocated the much deserved limelight due to the photography of Mark Nixon. 

Much Loved

Nixon’s book had been well publicized pre-Christmas. Soft toys are for life as illustrated so beautifully in this special book. Teddies and soft toys stay with us. Physically they change over time just as humans do and therefore, the emotional attachment remains strong as they grow old with you. Contributors to the book, admitted openly that they shared their secrets with their beloved toys, brought them on their honeymoon and that they still remained as important in these peoples lives as they did when they were children.  Mechanical and plastic toys will never harbour the same comfort and affection as a soft toy. Something to consider.

You may also be interested in the YouTube video for All the Broken Toys at Christmas by Batteries Not Included, quiet obviously, a parody.

I'm having a Murray moment...

My life has a superb cast, but I cannot figure out the plot.

Ashleigh Brillian

Finally, I have watched the complete 2 seasons of Flight of the Conchords. Take it for granted I’m a bit slow on catching up with modern media. Needless to say, I loved every daft moment of it.  I especially liked Murray. 

The thought often occurred, could I put up with such a man in real life. All his humour and daftness would be lost in the abyss of his self assurance. Bless his brown suits. Murray brought a little joy to media. I particularly liked the scenes between my beloved Murray and the New Zealand Prime Minister, Brian. We are introduced to Brian, sound asleep, while sitting in Murray’s office, while Murray takes photos of his idolized leader. Poor Brian was jet lagged from his trip to the US and woke in a startle asking “Is it yesterday?” Murray dutifully answers “No. It’s today.” 

That conversation kind of sums up my life. Well currently at least. I really am not sure what day of the week it is or what week it actually is. I’m pretty sure we are approaching some major holiday or at worst it’s Armageddon. The world has gone mad. Supermarket trolleys bend under the weight of excess food and drink, rolls of luxury wrapping paper threaten the survival of forests and the rise in sales of woolly jumpers hits an all time high. Do people not know what a mild winter means? It’s all fantastic and festive in its own right, well what else are we supposed to do with the arse-end of the year?

Currently on planet Alpaca, it’s a rush from one craft fair to the next, to meeting with dear friends whom ‘….haven’t seen you in ageeeessss!’ back to Christmas Craft Pop-Up Shop to (sure) pop down for one. I’m rattled, excited, exhausted, giddy & completely confused. 

Is it yesterday? No. I think it’s tomorrow! Oh balls! 

Must Love Lists

As human beings, we have a natural compulsion to fill empty spaces.

Will Shortz

I have proven on an occasion that I am not the most interesting person. At least, not while being flushed with alcohol. I make lists. Lots of lists. I have notebooks, filled with lists. I view it as an art piece in progress, the actual making of the list, documenting and presentation of the final collection. Mind, there is no finality in list making. To reach for real sympathy, I will admit to reading back over my notebooks while sitting in bed with a cup of tea. It’s a safer environment as a night out usually leads to starting the following day with deleting messages sent the night before, grasping to the idea this will somehow, unsend them. Being daft after a few glasses is something I excel at. I’m the fun one out. That’s why list making is good…it tends to align and keep focus on my wandering mind.

My favourite notebooks are Paperblanks. It was the good nature of an ex boyfriend who bought my first piece. A little book bound in Arabian Mosaic Tiling artwork. Each book is part of a collection, depicting art from all over the world and from various eras. There is also a little pocket in the back where one can keep cinema tickets, phone numbers scribbled on used cinema tickets, photos of those scribbling their numbers, thus, leading to the idea one can recreate a perfect image of time. Once I finish my listing and the book is full,  I have forgotten what it was I was trying to hold onto and a new book is bought. So the cycle begins.

Paperblanks as a business interest me as much as the notebooks. They excel at high standards, create beautiful, practical and useful books that are in essence, keepsakes, in their own right. I manage to keep mine even after the tedious enumerations. Paperblanks will always be on my Christmas lists. I love list making and with the art of Paperblanks, my drivel is well and truly under the blanket of obscure art.

Paperblanks

Jam!

The Law of Raspberry Jam:

the wider any culture is spread, the thinner it gets.

Alvin Toffler

During an afternoon of work, knitting and tea drinking, I was passing the time listening to one of my favourite radio programmes. There was a slot about Jam. Soft, sweet, sticky Jam loved and loathed the world over. It tastes great but gets everywhere. If your jammied toast falls to the ground, be sure, it will fall Jam side down. If it drips onto your top or clean white shirt, Jam will make its mark. Not to mention, it will also rot your teeth! For all its badness, Jam is delicious, versatile and practical. It’s a form of preservation of fruits and vegetables, thus allowing you to enjoy strawberries in winter, blackberries in Spring and anything you like in Summer. I went through a teenage phase of hating the stuff. Like the knitting, I gave up a lot during the wasted years. I suppose, it’s all about trying new things until you reach the stage of adulthood when you know which things you like and which you like to keep. It was the taste of a locally made rhubarb & vanilla jam, that woke up my taste buds and helped me understand all. I almost felt a pop inside. I thus went on a nationwide jam tasting trail in conjuntion with a scone tasting trail, while on my usual travels. My girth didn’t thank my but my taste buds, gladly, shook my hands.

This radio programme however, also covering jams in the more lateral sense. The presenter met with Music Jam sessions, Maths Jams where mathemiticans and people with more brain cells than the average, work out difficult conundrums. Like countdown in the pub. There were probably even Jam Jam Sessions where jam makers, eaters and general nutters meet to jam…..I even helped create a Knitting Jam Circle who meet in a café twice weekly and knit while eating jam on scones!

I remember Mum’s jam making at home. Topping and tailing the gooseberries, torn alive while out blackberry picking, falling into thorny dikes in order to grab the allusive berry which turned out to be a warm bed for a fat maggot.. collecting fallen apples and pears from the orchards….and shaking the trees to knock off the plums only to find them already half eaten by birds. 

Jam is wonderful, lovely on everything and comforting to the nose. But as always, I find perspective ..... ta dah!

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