HastyWords's Blog, page 8

HELL LIVES INSIDE 3 a.m.

I think God takes naps at 3 in the morning. It’s when I feel the most alone. The most broken. The most… scared.

I remember the morning I had decided I should die. That moment is a part of who I am today. I think Death stalks me now. It won’t let me forget. Every now and then it whispers, “How dare you beg for me when so many others beg for me to wait…”

I was careless.

The moon floats like a feather in the sky until 3 am and then it sits its weight on me and shines its bright light in my eyes. It interrogates me and expects me to speak for myself after stealing all my air.

I know what it’s like to have to answer for all my sins. I’ve had so much practice apologizing to God while he’s asleep. Maybe when death finally catches me I’ll know exactly which words to use.

I hope I make it through the pearly gates. Because I think maybe 3 am is what Hell is like.

WHAT IF I FALL

I’ve been feeling

Like a river

Flowing over

And around

Slowly meandering

Then racing

Past faces and places

Before flying

Headfirst

As waterfalls do

To the next place

I’m called to flow

A HEAD FULL OF RUBBISH

Looking for a room to rent

Something that can hold

A whole lot of random

Toxically rusty thoughts

Tragically tarnished ideas

And half written feelings

My room is overflowing

So I need a place soon

Willing to pay a premium

Because silence is golden

And the world is too full

Of noise these days

And all I want to do

Is share some peace

And some quiet too

OH MY GOSH… FINALLY

It’s been so long coming and now that it’s here I don’t even know what to say except oh my gosh… finally. My new website is up and I really hope you visit, look around, share it, and tell me what you think. Be honest because I need to hear it.

I started painting when my daughter was young as a way for us to bond. This grew into an ambitious journey of pure joy for both of us. When she moved away to university to study graphic design, I was left with a room full of art supplies and an insatiable need to create.

Specializing in mixed media, I never know where my artistic journey will lead me. Each one is like a child in a way, with mysteries and contrasts and individuality. I’m always so curious what they will become. Sometimes you make the art. Sometimes it makes you. 

You can’t even call them paintings anymore really. They demand inclusions of beach glass or sand, or sometimes real or fabricated crystals. Epoxy, plasters, inks, woods, sometimes even things like toys or shells or fabrics.

And every now and then, my daughter brings over a coffee and we spend a lazy Sunday doing what we’ve always done. I’ll make an ocean, and she’ll paint a dolphin jumping out of it. Art makes my life beautiful. Let it make yours beautiful too.

http://www.hastywordsart.com

I DID A THING

www.instagram.com/reel/CzhvbLVOWFE/

I spent time doing something today that has caused much anxiety. I sat up a table and accompanied a friend to a fair where I tried to sell some of my art. What if I don’t sell anything? Everyone who wants me to fail will laugh. People might feel sorry for me. I’ll have to figure out how to not let depression use it to feel more worthless.

I didn’t sell a thing. And… I’m fine. I made friends. Spent time with another friend and had a lovely time. I’d do it again. In fact, I’m scheduled to do it again. I can do this I’ve just got to get the hang of it.

PAINTING RAINBOWS

I chased rainbows

When I was young

Never caught one

But a boy

Kissed me

For a quarter

A mean girl

Punched me

And said

I was mean

I crashed my bike

Cut off my toe

Stepped on glass

Burned my hands

Sewed through

My thumb

I stopped

Chasing rainbows

And painted my own

And it was safer

USING WORDS

The words scatter
A mixed crowd, jumbled
Lumped, piled, heaped
Anxiously awaiting
The big fight
The standoff
Between literal
And metaphorical
Both weighing in
For context
For clarity
For intent
In their own corners
Ready to fight
To defend, to defeat
To stand victorious
Ready to take home
The glory that comes
From a story well told

ASH AND DUST

A million little things

Fall through the gaps

Too many seconds ticking

So much landscape escaping

Yawning so wide

Sucking in wind

Measured by time

Pulling my heart

Shaped hour glass

Closer and closer

To the edge

Begging me to jump

To the other side

Before the seconds

Turn into hours

And I’m nothing

But ash and dust

All I’m going to say with this one is I sure miss the person I love. We miss out on so much life together being in a long distance relationship. Hopefully someday soon that will change for us.

FOGGY DAYS

I awaken to fog

Like wooly fleece

Or curdled milk

I breathe it in

And it clogs

My airways

It absorbs into

All my pores

And I leave

The house

With fog

In my veins

THE CREATIVE ESCAPE

The sky disappeared

The world has faded

Voices once loud

Are soft and muted

Passion spilled out

In inks and paints

A world created

To drown the noise

And I wonder

Am I leaving slowly

Am I doing it again

Part of me

Is disappearing

Slowly but surely

Into the silence

I’m creating

Man… I’ve been lost in my own world for months (years) trying to enact a brilliant and time consuming plan to become a full time artist.

And now I have seconds left to kick a field goal and all the self doubt is crippling me. Where did all the fear come from all the sudden? Is this brilliant plan really an act of delusion?