"Transportation"

We finally got a new word!  Wipe 3 weeks from the last lateness tally and hope for future Friday reliability.  Let me briefly shift my irritation to Ohio politicians who passed a $100/year fee for hybrids (electric cars $200) because roads are financed with a gas tax.  I spend about $100/year in gas to give you an idea of how harsh this is.  I suspect the main reason for this tax is fuel-efficient cars are driven by Earth-friendly Democrats.  Grrr.

It's one of those days when the last thing I want to blog about is what's heaviest on my mind.  I notice my burdened brain keeps saying negative things.  Even positive things come out negatively.  Nobody wants to read a depressing post so I keep deleting and starting over -- but maybe negative words is the thing to talk about?

I had a boss who was horrible in so many ways she was called in front of the state board of ethics committee.  Even so, she actually taught me something, which goes to show you can learn from anyone.  She told me to only use positive words.  I was standardizing signs for the park system and thought her directive was impossible to achieve.  "Danger!  Don't lean on the fence" is straightforward.  Everyone understands it, but I wasn't allowed to use words like danger, don't, no, not, etc.  You try it.  What words would you use?*

Some people have the knack for this.  They're perpetually sunny and decorate in pinks and yellows.  They get on my nerves after a while, but they're kind of nice to have around too.  It beats being around people who decorate in black anyway.

It took time to get my mind around positive words, especially when I was around the horrible boss.  I kept thinking she was just making my life unnecessarily hard and words are only words.  I grumbled she only used positive words to manipulate people.  I kept tinkering with my signs and eventually managed to solve the positivity Rubik's cube.  I started making an effort to change the way I speak.  They're only words, but words can make a difference.  Thinking in positives makes for a better life.

I had a later job where I worked with very nice women.  When they talked about TV programs of the night before, they remarked how pretty someone looked, how nice someone seemed to be, how talented, how smart, how wonderful!  I'll admit I looked at these pleasant women with some suspicion at first.  I was used to women sniping at the TV women.  "Can you believe she wore that!"

One of the nice women told me she used to be like that because she grew up with a mother who was depressed and nasty.  The whole family talked in negatives and this nice woman spoke like her mom until she caught herself at it.  She was dismayed and decided to change her ways and spread good around instead.  She said it took her quite a while to master, and now she's a ray of sunshine in the world.  Her positive approach is echoed by others.  We need more people like this.  It's a skill we can all learn and use.

As for my burdened mind, I'll try to think more optimistically.  For those of you who pray, please include Chris in your thoughts.

The model train art is Ad #2 of Mensa's membership renewal campaign.

*Answer:  "Please stay on trail"

"Hairy"

I almost varnished a hair into my latest art therapy project, which if it had escaped my notice would've irritated me until the end of time.  Maybe my OCD tendencies require some attention?  I feel like I've been working on this piece forever, but I guess it's been just over a month.  Keep in mind, I wasn't actual painting all that time.  Sometimes I ignored it or just carried the painting around my house and pondered it and the issues I wanted to resolve.  My dog follows me around and sleeps when I settle somewhere.

The composition turned into a hairy nightmare because I'm letting these paintings grow in their own ways as I discover new ideas about the issues I'm pondering.  It's so much easier when I know what I want to paint in the first place, but I'm loving the challenge of these projects, and when I get to the point when I actually sign them I feel joy.  I even enjoy looking at these paintings when they're done, which I think is an odd result when I'm painting about unpleasant events in my life.

Part of the pleasure is finding good times during periods I've remembered as blanket negativity.  I racked up quite a few honors and accomplishments.  I met really interesting and influential people.  I helped kids rack up honors and accomplishments too.  I stood on a stage and gave speeches to hundreds of people without passing out.

At the same time, the people were truly terrible.  Two of them are currently in prison.  I was repeatedly threatened, assaulted, harassed, and stalked.  My house and office were repeatedly broken into.  I couldn't get support from anyone including legal authorities, relatives, or friends.  And oh yeah, one of those friends was having an affair with my husband.  Bleak times.  My health suffered.

In times like this it's hard to see life getting better, yet it did -- and then the cycle repeated, which is often the case because when I shut the door on that past I failed to examine some critical lessons.  I kept people in my life who failed me when I needed them, so it shouldn't have been a surprise they didn't help me when new problems entered my life.  I was still surprised and disappointed.

Victims are told not to talk about negatives.  Think happy thoughts.  Quit dwelling on the past.  Forgive.  No.  Perhaps these advisors live rosy lives without this kind of grief, but I suspect a lot of people can relate to some of my miseries after witnessing the Me Too movement.  Me Too gives victims a voice they've been denied, and I think there's something very healing about hearing their stories and empathizing with their pain.

I boohooed about getting divorced and found the sun shone more brightly on the other side of the courthouse.  I worried about money and earned more after getting out of that hellhole.  Life gets better, and bad cycles don't have to repeat when we own the cycles of the past.  It takes some honest soul searching and effort, but it's worth it.

I think it's time for me to take a break from art therapy though.  Something happy?  Less intense?  But let me encourage everyone to find their own self expression and growth.  Maybe something that doesn't include itsy bitsy portraits?

And yes, I stretched the "hairy" topic this week even though I have lots of art with hairy subjects.  Sometimes it's just better to follow our own music!

"Twins 2"

Last week I said my most recent painting didn't have any twins in it so I'd post it this week instead.  Since IF has neglected to give me a new word for the week, I guess the "twin" is the title?

I happily showed Bro2 my recent creative output and he said, "Nobody's going to buy your bitch paintings."  I laughed.  Selling the paintings isn't really the point, though I wonder if maybe people would want to buy them?  I've certainly put a lot of energy into them, and I'm feeling quite pleased with myself.  When I told a friend about Bro's comment, she said nobody would know I was bitching if I didn't tell them.  "It just looks officey, and lots of people can relate to office clutter."

I've said in the past that I left my last job mad.  I decided to store my anger on canvas instead of carrying it around.  It seems to be working.  Maybe it's a petty vengeance to paint the names of sinners at a religious organization, but I feel better for having done it.  Maybe religious people will like my quotes?

The wicked are overthrown by their wickedness, but the just find refuge in their integrity." ~ Proverbs 14:32

"To trust that everything that happens to us is for our good, is hope." ~ Mother Angelica

"You see Lord, how I am wronged.  Do me justice!  You see their vindictiveness, all their plots against me.  You hear their reproach, all their plots against me, the whispered murmurings against me all day long: give them what they deserve Lord according to their deeds: give them hardness of heart: your curse be upon them.  Pursue them in wrath and destroy them from under the Lord's heaven!" ~ Lamentations 3:59-66

I had these quotes on my bulletin board at work.  One day, I saw a priest reading that quote from Lamentations.  He didn't say a word.  He knew it was justified.

The charts prove points I doubt anyone else wants to understand.  The important thing is I was right.  Life would be so much easier if people understood that from the beginning because I believe in the fortune cookie's wisdom: "When working towards the solution to a problem, it always helps if you know the answer."

Nobody assigned me to art therapy.  It just seemed like a healthier alternative than bombing the church (or indulging in violent fantasies) -- and I feel healthier.  I discovered that despite all the miserable people and events at that job, there were quite a few aspects I really enjoyed, looking up vengeful Bible quotes for instance.  And beyond that, I found I was really good at all those numbers, I designed pretty and effective mailings, I improved my writing skills, and maybe most important, I made real friends whom I value.

I smile when I look at my "bitch painting".  I think my art therapy worked.  Now I'm working on a painting of the nasty job before that :)

My personal prayer request

"Guitar"

My guitar has butterflies.  This pleases me.  I hope my butterflies don't die in the case from neglect.  Guitars sound better when they're actually played instead of propped in a corner gathering dust.  I'm not a great player, but I'm pretty sure my guitar would prefer inexpert attention than none at all.

Let me apologize again for presidential insults of people and countries with pigment, US allies, or geez, everybody who isn't blonde and Norwegian this week.  What happened to 1960s "make love not war" ideals sung around campfires?  I leaked tears when I listened to this Seeker's version.  I'd like to blame that on menopausal hormones, but I'm just in touch with an earnest wish for a better world.  We should all sing by more campfires.

I refuse to give up my idealism.  We each make the world better with every kind action and word, and even the negatives around us are a chance to learn and make things right.  For instance, this week I've learned the continent of Africa is thriving.  It's far more than famine and AIDS.  Haiti is more than a hurricane disaster zone.  45's "s***hole" comments pushed the media to tell us some positives for a change.  Yay!  Tell us more!

I've complained about public tv's seemingly endless shows about multiculturalism.  It feels racist to complain, but I feel like they're beating me with a stick about an issue with which I'm already agreeable.  Stop lecturing me!  It's like sad puppies or starving children charity ads.  I care about puppies and children, but I'd much rather see something about how a donation results in happy, healthy children/puppies.  Stop miring us in negatives.  Teach us about positives.  Teach us how to get to the positives.

The truth is, we're attracted to negatives.  A traumatic, abusive bond with someone can be far more enduring than a loving relationship, but time with an abuser is time that wasn't spent with someone loving.  Lately I've noticed on my antenna tv there are 2 stations devoted to murder 24 hrs/day, not to mention the other stations' murder shows.  I'm sure cable tv must be far worse.  We're rapt with attention over disasters, abuse, and strife, and media outlets will continue to offer this kind of thing because it keeps our viewership better than "good" subjects.  It takes effort maintaining positivity in a negative world, but I'm convinced it's worth the effort because surrounding ourselves with good people and experiences leads to happier lives for everyone.

I met a young woman outside a store where we were both waiting.  We discovered we shared a birthday that day.  I told her she was pretty.  She was taken aback that I'd say something nice, and then worried I was hitting on her.  I laughed and said I like boys.  We chatted and laughed some more for maybe 15 minutes before we left in different directions, never to see each other again, but with positive memories.

It was such a simple thing.  She was pretty, and nice too.  She was pleasant to talk with when I was burning time.  One small action that didn't cost me anything for a young, black woman who told me she needed a kind word that day.  My bit for race relations might be a helpful memory for her when she listens to racist comments.

Haters get more coverage than the majority of people who don't share those views.  What if all of us who care about others make more effort to say nice things to each other?  Open doors, treat people like people, express some curiosity about them?  Listen to their stories, or just smile?

Kumbaya...

"Spooky"

DadadaDA!!  I finished my painting.  Woo hoo!  Yay!  A painting I realize has very little to do with "spooky" -- then I remembered painting The Ghost of Dibble Hollow, so I'm clearly completely legit about following the word for the week :)

There's a lot I could say about this painting, but I'm curious about what you think of it without anymore explanation than I've already given.  I've even got another painting  or 2 in mind that will follow similar themes.  Hopefully they won't take years to complete!

As for "spooky", when we were kids, Sis2 and her friends played "Who's Afraid of Bloody Mary?"  They took turns locking each other in a closet and scaring themselves silly.  I got shoved into the closet for a turn too.  I reluctantly said the words 3x and felt torn between terror and healthy skepticism.

The other girls wouldn't let me out.  As the youngest, they thought they could get me to scream the loudest, and they kept me incarcerated for a very long time.  I amused myself by examining the contents of the closet by candlelight.  By the time I was allowed out, I'd lost most of my fear and come to the decision that the girls weren't really playing, they were just cruel.

The girls thought I lacked the proper attitude for play.  Maybe?  My 5-year-old self felt pretty sure about my conclusions though.  I told a school friend about the torture test and she agreed with me.  We polled our other playmates and everyone agreed, with an observation that most older siblings are mean.  We were sensitive middle children.

This experience oddly turned into a life-long interest in collecting other people's ghost stories -- not fake stories intended to frighten, but real stories.  It started that day on the playground when 2 of my classmates shared their experiences.  We were all awed and wondered together about the nature of reality and the afterlife.  I remain charmed by the unknown and magic in life.

My grandma died suddenly when I was in my 20s.  I still hadn't gotten my mind wrapped around this new reality on the day of the funeral.  My unusually well-dressed family picked up Grandpa at his house and loaded up the car.  Mom sent me back in to make sure the back door was locked.  It was.  With my mind on getting to the funeral home, I went through the kitchen, dining room...

"Linda.", Grandma said from the kitchen.

I turned around expecting to see her.  Empty air in the arch between the 2 rooms.  Uh?

"Grandma?"

Silence.

I didn't want to move.  Didn't want to break whatever just happened.  Mom tooted the horn, and I got in the car for a funeral I didn't want to attend.

For an extra oddity, Mom told me the same thing happened to Grandma when her grandma died.  She was playing piano and she heard "Laura."  That's it, nothing more.  I'm grateful Grandma said goodbye.

As for last week's rambling about giving kids candy on Halloween, Paula at Mindful Drawing shared a practice in Ireland of giving stickers out.  I think that's a great idea :)