They're rebuilding one of the main roads I take to get to work. It's a county road and heavily trafficked so I knew construction would take considerable time. When I say "heavily trafficked" I mean I would encounter 3-5 cars on it driving home during rush hour. I live in the country so if traffic is ever bumper to bumper it's because there's deer crossing slowly, a house is on fire and the road is closed or there's been an accident. Now that the road is down to one lane during construction, I'm realizing just how many people use that road and I've decided that I will no longer be one of those people until the project is done. Finding a way around such a main route in the country involves navigating winding back roads that are often gravel, but as I drive an SUV with good ground clearance and suspension, I'm not intimidated. I got directions from point A to point B via Google Maps and then rerouted those directions around the main road it felt to be the "easiest" way. There's nothing easy about being stuck parked in construction traffic for 15-20 minutes when I need to get home for my daughters' bus. At least on country roads I'm moving along and in control of my own speed. I am familiar with most of the roads on the plotted route so I knew that once I've driven it a couple times I'd be able to go by landmarks. Landmarks being things like half-dead trees, old barns and cutely painted mailboxes. Driving the hilly, winding, gravel roads is quite the adventure. In the mornings there aren't many cars on these roads, so when I'm driving the only traffic I usually encounter are squirrels, deer, crows and flocks of other smaller birds. All the critters seem rather surprised to see a SUV barreling along their roads and I have to come to near complete stops for indecisive squirrels and deer. Birds go flying off in a dither, probably swearing at me in chirps but they'll just have to get used to seeing me. I'll be driving through the Disney-like nature of these back roads until construction is complete. At the rate the crew is going, that won't be until October if I'm lucky. Another interesting little detail about these country roads is that half of them don't have road signs. Directions that say "turn left on Smith Road" are totally useless when Smith Road isn't labeled and looks like every other winding road around. Putting signs up might be on the town's "to do list" or they may never go up because the people who live on those roads like being incognito. It's okay, I figure out where I'm going eventually and I certainly understand the desire to remain hidden. The roads tend to be all in shadow because of the abundance of trees and as the leaves change color for autumn I'm sure I'll be treated to beautiful tours through shades of red, orange and yellow. My chosen route is actually faster than being stuck in construction...unless I decide to stop and take pictures with my little Canon Powershot. Such an endeavor is an acceptable delay and far more enjoyable than being parked among other grumbling commuters. In driving, just as in life, I won't allow my journey to be stopped by the dictates of others. I will keep moving forward in the direction of my choosing and I will face whatever lies around each curve and over every hill with my usual optimism and hope.
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From a Dream
The wear-worn pads of his whitish-grey paws- fur matted and frozen in snow, claws coated with ice- crunch through the white chilled blanket of flakes of frozen rain. Pants of breath form small clouds about his ebony nose and disappear as swiftly as they come. Whiskers, sharp as swords, twitch in the cold ignoring the glass water coating their senses. Ice-eyes- dark pupils reflecting a fire within, gaze unblinking and constant- scan every corner of the white-layered forest, un-fazed by the moaning of the wind. White pieces of sky descend serenely and settle upon the coarse fur, no longer melting as they once had. Instead, they gather in small piles working in among the greys, whites, and light browns of each thick hair. Yet no bit of winter stings the proud hunter. No trees groaning under the weight of the snow could startle him. He listens for their calls among songs of small brave birds and scrambling of rabbits and prey. The echoed howlings and mournful songs reach his sharp angled ears. And the wolf returns to lead his pack to follow his destiny. I have had many nicknames in my life and not all of them have been kind but that's probably true of most people. Those who know me well have their own unique nicknames or pet names for me and I'm very happy with that. To know me is to love me, my friends say and I tend to believe they mean that. In the many unpublished fantasy books I have written, I've had to come up with a large quantity of original character names. Most of them just popped into my head and some I made up by combining words in different languages. In one of my more recent books I created a character named Sriset and I thought at the time that I made the name up. Turns out the name exists in other cultures but I did not realize this until I started playing World of Warcraft. Yes, I said Warcraft. My older brother talked me into playing the online game and for many months I was hooked. I chose the name Sriset for my first character (she was a hunter) because I wanted a name that didn't exist on any realm in Warcraft yet. I just checked the Armory and I'm still the only Sriset which makes me rather proud. Mind you I haven't played in quite some time and don't intend to again anytime soon. I simply don't have the time. I knew nothing about online gaming when I started playing Warcraft and I only know slightly more after numerous months of playing. I was at one time a Guild Leader and my guild members started shortening my name to Sri. I became notorious for becoming lost in dungeons and on quests so I was also known as "Perpetually Lost Sri." I wore that name with a unique feeling of honor because it was true and because no matter how lost I became, my online friends were always nice enough to come find me. It is a truly interesting and nice feeling to know that a bunch of people who had never actually met me in person liked me enough through in game chatting to stick with me and call me friend. My fondness for the name Sriset will never fade and it is another extension of my persona. I feel it suits me on Twitter because as I used to do on Warcraft, I am daily questing to make new contacts and friends and learn about new places...though this time it is through descriptions limited to 140 characters. In real life I am quite often still "Lost Sri" but I have learned to find my way. I have also discovered that even a journey along the "wrong" path can turn out more right than ever imagined. Nothing in this life is certain and that is the only thing I'm certain of sometimes. Uncertainty and the fear of the unknown used to cause me great worry and anxiety but I think I've finally realized that some things are just beyond my powers to control or understand. I know how strong I am, I know who I love, I know what I want from life, I know where I've come from and I know where I don't ever want to be again. The ground still falls out from under me sometimes and my heart still breaks but I've learned how to hover and that my heart will eventually somehow miraculously heal itself. I have this crazy idea for my future but to me it makes perfect sense. I am motivated and determined and I will achieve it. My original reason for seeking this new future has become clouded with annoying uncertainty and so I've altered my reasons in order to make a bridge over the unknown. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that what I do, I have to do for myself. I can't do things because they'll please someone else or bring me physically closer to someone. Being in closer proximity to a person doesn't mean I will be any closer emotionally to them. So instead, I focus on why I want to be where I will someday be. I will be closer to so many things I love and want to experience in my life and I know they will fill my heart and spirit and make unrequited love a thing of the past. I have never been directly asked this but I have asked my friends a similar question many times. What inspires me? My biggest inspiration is my father. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't miss him with all my heart and wish he was still on this world. I know he is at peace now but there have been so many times when his little girl desperately needed his words of wisdom, his unconditional love and his wonderful bear hugs. I don't presume to know how anyone else who has lost their father feels, but I know how I feel. Losing him left an emptiness inside me that will never quite be filled but also uncovered a strength in myself I wasn't aware I possessed. He was such a good man and a true example of what every person should strive to be. His big, kind heart, sense of humor, accepting nature, easygoing temperament and great love for his family inspire me every day and in everything I do. I will continue to make him proud because though I've faltered and lost my way sometimes, I know he has never lost faith in me and that he is proud of everything I've accomplished. I am inspired by my mother and the strong, fiery nature I inherited from her and continue to build on. From her I learned to fight for what I want because I'm the only one who truly knows how to obtain my desires. She taught me that sometimes you just have to grab on and pull really hard or push and shove with all your strength to achieve the desired results, but the rewards are definitely worth it! I am inspired by my best friend because she is one of the most amazing people I've ever met and she loved and accepted me when no one else in this world would. She has a formidable power within her to bring happiness and joy to everyone she meets. As she comes into her own and gains victory in her battles, her light will only grow brighter and radiate stronger until nothing will ever again be able to dull her shine. I am inspired by my other close friend who isn't afraid to take brave leaps into the unknown and follow her heart. I admire her youthful wisdom and she has taught me so much and continues to humor my "adorable" naivety. I am inspired by my dear friend and his courageous heart, his devotion to his family and friends, his patience, his infinite spirit and his compassion. I am not entirely certain he realizes what an exceptional person he is but I do. No matter what happens between us, I will always consider him a good man and a beloved friend. There are so many other things that inspire me but alas, I've run out of time this morning to continue writing. For the moment I am still this lone woman in the country who is obsessed with the sky, endures unrequited love in stride while sharing her big heart with every creature she meets and whose writing voice is still mostly undiscovered. But that is all just momentary and not eternal. Soon the country will give way to busier streets and water views and an excitement to life I have only imagined. My future destination can't quite comprehend the whirlwind in store for it when I arrive... I truly enjoy when someone tells me how much they like my paintings or reads something I wrote and expresses their enjoyment and desire for more. I suppose I could be alone in my belief that having people who believe in you is a true gift. Artists of any kind understand how hard it is to get their writing, painting, photography, music, sculptures, spoken word...whatever it may be, out there for the world to experience. The term "struggling artist" exists for a very good reason. We are all blessed with different gifts and not everyone possesses an artistic talent, but I believe there's a longing within each of us to express ourselves.
I will admit that I'm guilty of needing some encouragement in order to feel inspired enough to paint or write. The thought that everything I do is all for naught is discouraging to say the least. I love to share my writing and painting, and if the people I share it with are truly appreciative, the artistic spark inside me regains its strength and starts to burn back into a real fire. Do not misunderstand me and believe that everything I do, I do for attention; far from it. I have tons of manuscripts that may never be read, and stacks of paintings that may never be seen, but that never stops me from creating more. Tell me "I like the colors in this painting" or "I really enjoyed this story and want to read more" and wow, I am over the moon with happiness! I create to share, isn't that what all artists do? What good is self expression if no one else ever sees or hears what it is you're trying so creatively to say? So to all my fellow artists out there, I offer you my encouragement and support. It isn't an easy road or life for any of us right-brainers and from time to time, I think we all need to lean on someone for a bit. The right people will push us off with a gentle shove or hard kick in the rear when we lean and we'll be right back on the trail, artistic machete in hand, blazing a new creative and inspired trail into the future. My work, whether it be painting or writing, has always been driven by my emotions. I have to feel passionately about something, or even someone, in order to find my creative muse. Alas there have been far too many times in my life when my experiences have left me so numb and empty that I couldn't put brush to canvas or fingers to keyboard. I have done some paintings when I was angry and it was therapeutic because anger is a passionate emotion, full of fire and easy to feed off of. The blah of discontent and depression holds no fire, only cold emptiness and I am not someone who can create anything from that.
My friend has told me that I'm someone who loves too hard, and she knows because she is one too. I believe all my female friends are like this and that's why we understand each other so well. We put so much of ourselves out there, whether it be through painting, writing, speaking or just living and we think everyone who knows us and cares about us should understand that part of us and not abandon us because of it. It's hard for us to accept that there really are people out there who don't need other people, who are content alone and who don't want to share the deepest parts of themselves, including their hearts, with anyone else. I will never be that kind of person. How I love makes me vulnerable and gets me hurt but it can also create beautiful pieces of artwork and writing that capture the most important essence of myself. I never know where the inspiration for my paintings is going to come from. Most of the time it just sort of comes out of me as I paint but sometimes it comes from unexpected places. It could be from a dream I had or a story I read or something I saw outside or a picture a friend took on their phone and sent me. I've been taking pictures of beautiful skies for as long as I've been able to figure out how to work a camera. I've used entire rolls of film taking photos of sunsets and sunrises and only ever painted a few pictures based on them. Lately I've been looking at photos of even mundane things differently and it's not because of the subject matter but because of where the photos came from. I will be visually explaining in new paintings in the very near future ;)
I still use that wooden case and palette to this day, in fact that palette had almost 20 years of old paint on it until last night when I decided to clean it off. Sometimes completing a painting takes longer than I expect so by the time I'm done some of the paint has dried pretty happily onto the palette. If it's a color I didn't use much of, the glob can be kind of big and lumpy and impossible to wipe off with just warm water. I had grown accustomed to my "messy" palette and even fond of the various colors but it had become just too hard to see what colors I was using anymore. I decided to scrape the old paint off with a razor blade and was rather surprised that it all just started peeling up off the wood once I got under a thick area of it. My oldest daughter enjoyed helping me peel a majority of the rubbery dried acrylic paint off and I thought what was removed almost resembled art. I say almost because it really wasn't and it went into the trash, but not before I took a commemorative photo...
My first set of real acrylic paints came from a fellow coworker at the mall pretzel place I worked at in high school. He was an older gentlemen who used to paint but didn't have the time anymore. He gave me his hinged wooden case complete with a palette and various colors of acrylic paint. I discovered that most of the paint tubes were too dried out to use so my mother took me to an art supply store. I spent most of my paycheck on tubes of colors with cool names like phthalocyanine blue and cadmium yellow and on long handled brushes of all shapes and bristle length. Most importantly I purchased some canvas boards so I had something to paint on. I was now armed with all sorts of artist supplies but I had no idea what exactly I was capable of creating...
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