Wednesday, July 13, 2016
I'm doing a tiny little workshop, hosted by Elizabeth Gilbert. She wants us to work online and share the work in one of a few forums, none of which I have other than Facebook. I'm too lazy to set up another online presence and also I find they all sort of get lost for me after an exciting start, other than Facebook (which I want to keep Facebook-y) and this blog, which comes and goes in my life according to, well, my life.
So the first 20 minute rambling soul-searching commences:
The last thing I really wondered about is linguistics. The first time I wondered about linguistics was in a high school English class. I remember the classroom, it was in the portables, which meant it was cold in the winter and the floors were echoey. I loved the idea that I could figure out words based on their parts, that if I knew the clues I could decipher anything. I tried (not too hard, obviously) in university to take a linguistics class as an elective but given the size of our university and the obvious lack of interest, the 100 level was only available in the fall semester and it didn't work with my schedule. Now, I have fallen in love with Audible and I am listening to one of those Great Courses and it is called The Secret Life of Words: English Words and Their Origins and I am completely besotted.
The last time I experienced creative flow was when I was blogging. Somehow my stars aligned and the time + ideas + sit down and do it = a great feeling of ahhhh.
Frick, what did I most love to do when I was 8 years old. This is a rabbit hole question if I ever saw one because 7 years old was when my world went crashing down around me. I may have blocked out the 8 through 25 years. So when I was 8 I was in grade 3, I loved my teacher. She was a farmer and had all of us kids fall in love with farm animals. I loved learning about rabbits. "Working" at Agribition and taking care of my rabbits for a day. I felt such a serious and intense feeling of responsibility for those rabbits. This is a little sad for me. I really have no connection to my 8 year old self. I can assume, given that I have an 8 year old, that I loved to play and run and go to the park and fight with my brothers and read. However I can't actually be clear about that and will have to give it some thought. Good times.
The last piece of music that inspired me is lost for the moment. I found a beautiful cello playlist on Apple Music and listened to it like crazy, feeling my heart warm up and well up. In the car, as I cooked; the music was the soundtrack to my life for a while. And then one day it was not on Apple Music anymore or if it is I can't find it and I had naively assumed that what I liked and listened to on Apple Music would stay. Not so. The last piece of art that inspired me was today at 4Cats when I saw my 8 year old's beautiful painting. Her accomplishment and sense of pride were lovely. I might be a bit nerdy here but it was actually Elizabeth Gilbert who last inspired me, her book about living a creative life just makes sense to me.
When I feel beautiful I'm sweating in a yoga class or a spin class. I feel healthy and alive when I'm exerting my body. I used to feel beautiful if I had on high heels. I liked the shape of my legs and I liked them even more with heels on. Now one leg looks funny so I feel 1/2 beautiful with high heels on. This is why I still wear them, even though I walk so gingerly I know I make people uncomfortable.
My superpowers are an ability to read anything and good research skills. Sometimes I have the gift of the gab but I'm careful with that superpower. It is also my kryptonite.
If I wasn't afraid of anything I would be a writer living in an apartment the size of a closet in New York City.
The theme I see in the above is a love of reading and writing and words. This is not news to me, but I must whack myself over the head with it every once in awhile when I get lost in Life.