“I’ve heard it given through a truth, that as the world goes round, so it comes round again..”
Mr. Plornish in Little Dorrit (the movie, not the book)
It’s been a while since I wrote a blog post, so let me catch you up to speed.
Last July we moved from one East Vancouver basement suite into another one much more handsome, less hallway-y, and conveniently located in my parent’s house. We settled in as quickly as possible- I was nearing the boiling point of my pregnancy. Literally. It was a very hot summer.
In those last weeks before my due date, I developed a paranoia of going into labour at an inconvenient time such as in rush hour traffic, in the middle of a parking lot, or on a long walk. I had an irrational fear of becoming incapacitated and unable to protect my reckless toddlers from oncoming traffic or rabid dogs so I refused to go out alone with the kids for several weeks.
Instead, I spent the dog days of summer loafing around on a lawn chair in our new backyard while my toddlers played in a plastic sandbox with buckets of recycled water (you will recall the stringent water restrictions).
It was a happy and slow month. I nested to my heart’s content and packed and repacked my hospital bag which I never ended up using as our daughter Mabel obliged us by arriving right to our doorstep exactly on her due date (translation: we had planned a hospital birth, she was born at home, and it was actually awesome).
She was and is a mellow and squishy wonder.
Before all of that, I gave myself a nice long break from blogging (moving and birthing were quite enough for me). Then my computer broke which extended my break, but NOW I have a new-to-me laptop, a new camera, and I am back.
There was also fall and winter but they flew by so fast that I hardly know what to mention about them. I remember we ate a lot of breakfast for dinner.
Something about the sunny days and spring in the air has given me the urge to write again. In the winter I think about myself- I dwell deep in the cave of my introversion, I crochet hats, I write lists, I live inside my mind a lot. But in the spring, the season of new birth and new growth, I must express myself! I want to tell the world how I am feeling, what I am thinking, and how I feel about what I am thinking.
Actually, I don’t know if any of that is true. Am I more broody and introverted in the winter? Am I more expressive in the spring? I don’t know. Who cares. Here I am and here we are.
But while we’re on the topic of seasons, I would like to talk about seasonal creativity. Certain ventures are undeniably tied to specific seasons. For example, cold weather lends itself to staying indoors making cozy things, crafting in preparation for Christmas; whereas sunny days lend themselves to sunbathing on the roof or pulling out the camera to capture the new buds of spring.
However; apart from the natural seasons of creativity, I do feel my own tendency to pick up and put down projects at a whim. My craft bin is a jumbled mess of many different mediums and starting a new blog isn’t exactly a new thing for me (sheepish giggle). I used to feel uncomfortable with being so inconsistent but I’m slowly learning to accept it as part of my humanity. It is simply not in my nature to be 100% consistent (and thank God that it IS in His nature!).
I rotate through creative outlets the way I would get my newborn to sleep- through an elaborate pick-up, put-down, pick-up, put-down routine. The good news is, I have begun to notice something of a pattern in my inconsistency. I tend to cycle back to the same endeavors in one way or another. All the name changes and long breaks, all this rigmarole is just a game I need to play to keep myself engaged. It’s my way of harnessing the instant gratification monkey inside my brain. I also really like naming things.
Why am I sharing all this with you? Perhaps I just love talking about myself (perhaps?). Perhaps I am trying to explain my prolonged absence without seeming like a total flake. Or perhaps I am looking for a commonality because maybe you’re like me. Maybe you too are a person of many interests. Maybe you too need to be perpetually distracted in order to accomplish anything, and through the discovery of this common trait we can form a strong and lasting bond- a “you too?” moment, if you will. A moment in which our friendship can be born.
I realize that if you’re reading this, the chance that we are already friends IRL is quite high so picking up where we left off should be pretty easy. If you’re new here, let me explain: there was a thing that I did for a little while, and then I didn’t, and now I am again. Stick around. Or don’t; that is your prerogative (but I sure hope you do!).
Thanks for reading, friends.
Friendship is born at the moment when one man says to another
“What! You too? I thought I was the only one…”