My eldest sister informed me today that she went all the way back to January of 2009 to read through all of my blog posts. Silly me. Here I was thinking she was reading faithfully. But what is faithfulness anyway? Does a reader necessarily have to visit your blog everyday? Must they feel trapped into thinking they are being disloyal should they go their way and not get around to you for a while? Shouldn’t our readers be free to choose their appointment with our written words? The answer should be yes.
Just because little sister has decided to share parts of her private life, art, thought patterns, stories or cuisine with the world, doesn’t mean my siblings or friends are to be chained to my web log site. Or they feel they have to sheepishly look the other way when we ask how they liked the latest post. They should be comfortable enough to say they have been dealing with their life and will get to the blog when next they have the time. It doesn’t mean they don’t like what we offer, but it does tell us that just like the most glamorous movie or pop stars, there is a time and place for everything, even us.
Now I know for certain that she is a most faithful reader, even when she didn’t chose to visit, she might have wondered what I was busy doing. But when she did arrive it was with the intent to enjoy a private time with my written words. The fact that she went all the way back to where she had left off reading made me feel rather good.
I have many faithful readers and I appreciate them all. Please come and go as you will because what I share here is truly amongst friends I have opened the doors to welcome.
This is a watercolor seascape I am presently working on. I call it “The Homecoming.”
She’s wearing a contemplative expression that reminds me of how I feel inside whenever I am making decisions about how I am going to place paint on a canvass. The other evening I pulled out my watercolors and lightweight paper to just mess about. In a matter of minutes I had laid down the backdrop of my next work. Too bad I didn’t start it with oil on canvass. Sometimes paint has a mind of its own and you have to go wherever it beckons. I should have it completed in a few days and I will snap a photo to share.
Whenever I prolong the cravings within myself, push the ideas aside or deny my spiritual creative talents a small part of me dies away. There is an internal floodgate holding these artistic traits in abeyance. Purportedly I must be saving them up for another time, but nonetheless I feel the denial in my bloodstream and the bars of my self-imposed impervious cell.
I feel like throwing paint … everywhere. The times I understand the check I keep on my artists heart, I travel through remorse for what I deny the universe. Why I do this is reasoned out by my convincing my mind that to temper the amount of my revealed self is a pure desire to not over-do-it.
This Artwork is entitled “BaaBoo.” It was a nickname given me by the man I dated before I met my husband. You know some people get under your skin and they leave fond memories. He was such a friend and talented clothing designer. His mother called me Nuisance and to an impressionable young woman, it wasn’t an endearing name, although she claimed it was. People have a way of remaining with you for a time, while others are always right there in the cavities of your mind. Easy to call-to-mind and available whenever you miss their presence. Why do some people travel through your life while others stay in the forefront?
Today must be one of those deep days and I shall allow myself the personal time to walk the deep waters barefoot. Perhaps my stay here will be shorter than normal.
Original Theresa’s Mouse Art, BaaBoo, Circa 2000 Copywrite