elemental

No. It isn't metal, although it definitely tastes like it.

It's earth, speaking Chinese.

It's spleen.

It's worrying.

It's stuck in overanalysing minor details.

Apparently, I need to sing and be open.

Yeah.

conceptual

Playing, this morning :) Honestly, I was just playing! My pepper & salt shakers on top of an empty tub of body cream, because it was there, as a still life 'scene' :)

Now that it's finished, I see my current recurring 'concept' in it, again. About friendships, expectations, listening and being heard, pedestals and crap. Yup, even when I'm letting go, my conceptual brain subconsciously kicks in. It's a curse, LOL :)

I'm trying to learn to play more - let go. Not because it's infinitely important to play, or to let go, when it comes to what I make. But when I don't - when I hang on to my apparent need to draw and illustrate concepts - more often than not, I don't draw at all. Because I can't find the words for the concept, or I can't decide on the illustration to go along with it. Or because I start and my inner critic gets floor space before he should. That happens less and less, but it still does, occasionally. Especially when I'm digging deep, trying to excavate soul - like when I'm doing a course ;)

But if you didn't know all that, you'd just see salt & pepper shakers on top of an empty tub of body cream. Right?! ;)

loitering

This is my Tree of Life. This is where my passions live! I have passions! I have known and lived what makes me happy off and on over the past two years, but only too recently found out that they make me, pretty much!

Create in the broadest sense of the word - creating a life, as creatively as possible ;) But of course even more as in, literally pouring myself onto paper - drawing life, illustrating my moodswings. Finding humour & a smile in the nitty-gritty. It sucks me right out of my stress, my fears and my anxieties! It might not last beyond the time I spend with my paper and paints, but there, in that moment, it feels manageable. That's an awesome start, I think!

And excavate - getting closer to my truths. Peeling away layers of obstacle and blah and all that stuff I've told myself about myself for way too long... Becoming Me. The Me my Inner Toddler wanted to grow up to be. Authentic, if you like the Big Words... And then - needless to add perhaps - find a drawing in it all :) These two go hand in hand! And it's a neverending story, of course. Which is a very lucky thing, because I love that tree. It's where my passions live!

But when all is said and done? Even though I know where my happy lives? This...

... is where I spend a ridiculous amount of time. Procrastination is a straight-backed chair in a cold, bare room. When you think about it. When you really get into the concept. It never makes you feel better, or rested, or happy with yourself.

So, why?! That's what I'm trying to figure out. Knowing all that I know about me, my Tree and my passions, why do I end up sitting on that uncomfortable chair a whole lot more than I can... explain?!

What makes you procrastinate? Do you know? I'd love to hear your insights! :)

quiet

It's been quiet here... I'm well aware...
November was a busy month, with 3 family birthdays, including Squirt's and mine. And I actually celebrated my birthday for the first time in years, which made it a bit of a stressful event! And of course, after that, Sinterklaas came to visit on the 5th of December, which took some careful plotting and planning (not to mention shopping and wrapping!) as well.

There's a couple of weeks left till Christmas, so the next while should be quiet. I'm totally ready for some relative quiet. I feel like I've been running around like a headless chicken for longer than I care to remember, and I'm not entirely sure where I left my head! But I'll find it - I always do :)

I have been anticipating creativity for the sake of being creative. Out of my birthday money (thank you SO much, friends!!) I've ordered some amazing books on how to live the artist's life, and some on inspiration, and I've been breathing & browsing them over the past week, wishing there was time to dive in. I've been telling myself time will magically reappear after the first week of December.

But the crazy thing is, time has never truly been away... There's been less time, perhaps, but I could have gotten a few brush strokes down, every single day - if I'd really wanted to. The honest truth of the matter is, I've been afraid. I mentioned it before, and it's still with me. I have no idea where it's coming from. Or maybe I do. Part of it is, that I want to do so much that I don't know where to start. Part of it is in having seen too much intimidatingly amazing work from other artists lately. Paralysingly so. I've been feeling so inspired, that it's turned into a block. Or something. I can't put my finger on it...

What I did know yesterday, was that I had to put something down onto paper. I just had to. I was beginning to feel like a fraud, having all these books on living an artist's life lying around, not actually feeling like much of an artist... So I picked up a ballpoint pen and started drawing from a photo I took of Monday's lunch. Straight to pen, drawn & coloured in 30 minutes. And part of the whole facing the fear, doing it anyway (one of the books that's waiting for me ;)) - I knew I had to post it here.

The fear has been telling me that I can't draw or paint. I can try, but it won't come out looking like it was meant to do. I'm not writing this because I'm fishing for compliments, but because that's what is on my mind. But I don't think this drawing came out bad at all :) Especially not for someone who's been telling herself she sucks, consistently, for weeks!

It all comes down to breathing. Pushing through, and doing it anyway. And I just did. I so need to ignore my inner mean dude more and just do!

What's holding you back from jumping in? How do you deal with irrational fears? I'd love to hear!

mission

Rant & lesson for today -
It's actually totally warped to want people to appreciate all the upheaval you are facing, too. The fact that some people perpetually think their problems are bigger, should point you to notice the beauty in your life. To take it on as a compliment. To smell roses! To be more compassionate and kind - both to yourself and to others! To be graciously grateful.

‎& how I suck at that! Do you think it's a women's thing? To want to be appreciated for our struggles, instead of our ability to see silver linings?

vulnerable

This page is... so many things into one! A pretty cool doodle turned... interesting when I started applying watercolours to it...

First of all, I don't know where my mind was when I chose the colours, but it wasn't on pleasing, that's for sure! What happens when you're just doing while listening elsewhere, I guess :)
And secondly, perfect proof of the fact that I don't really know what I'm doing with those watercolours, quite yet! I was fine on run-of-the-mill (80 gsm) paper! I mean, it didn't work properly, of course, but I could just blame it on the paper! Now that I'm using the real stuff, paperwise, it's me. I don't know how to stop the stuff from staining, striping, cauliflowering & whatever else you want to call what can go wrong with this paint ;)

It's a learning curve, on many counts. I need to keep at it and practise on filling large spaces with a consistent wash. I need to re-learn the lesson that it's okay if not everything turns out the way I plan it, even when I set out to create something that's supposed to rock. Meaning I need to regain controll of my inner mean dude. Shut him up. Whatever he says, it's hardly ever appropriate!

I'm doing a course. Creative Courage, with Stephanie Levy. It's beautiful, she knows so much and she's sharing freely and thoughtfully. But it's also... quite daunting, to me. I am surrounded by so many incredibly talented artists who are already selling their products, and I feel... out of place. Not good enough. A beginner - and not in the Buddhist sense where it can be so beneficial ;)

I'm comparing while knowing I shouldn't, I keep measuring myself and coming up short. Who am I kidding?! It's one thing to overcome your inner critic when you're putting your own thoughts into your own images, essentially for yourself; it's quite another when you're contemplating - merely imagining! - that some day, someone might want to pay for something you make!

I'm stuck, at the moment. Stuck in can't, shouldn't, must!, who am I kidding?!, not nearly good enough!; inner mean dude ramblings. I know the only answer is pushing through. Perseverance. Daring to wish for myself. Soul searching, bridge-building, handstands and chocolate. Especially chocolate...

This painting is a metaphor. Of how colourblind I can get. How stuck. And how I keep at it, nonetheless. I think it deserves to be framed and hung, just for that!

What do you do to overcome yourself & shut up that inner critic?

p.s. If anyone has tips on washing a great white space around complex structures (haha), I'll be so grateful, I might not send you a print of this... beauty :)

wishpuddle

It was beautiful, it had a tail & all! I don't think I've ever seen a shooting star with a tail before!

So I started wishing for more creative courage, more creative juice, renewed belief in my own unique style, and ended up monologuing in my head. Whether I'd be jinxing my family's health and financial well-being by asking for something so... selfish! A luxury, really. I went back and forth with myself for a while, and just like that, the moment was gone.

I have no idea what the Universe in Its endless wisdom does with multifaceted... wishpuddles. But I'm sure it will be good! I believe that, you know?

Do you think it's selfish to use such a special wishing moment on yourself? It's hours later by now, and I'm still befuddled!

Update:
I just sat, gut-wrenched, through an emergency doctor's visit. Squirt fell down the stairs? off a stair? just slipped? really hard, hitting his head on the marble floor tiles in the hallway - I didn't see it! What sort of a mother am I?! He was all pale and groggy and half out of it... But he seems fine now. Thank the stars - kids get over these things SO much quicker than their mothers!
So of course, here I am, wondering whether he fell because of the above, or whether he's fine, because of the above ;) At times, it's EXHAUSTING, having an active, imaginative mind ;)

witch

Spent all day on a Halloween-y sort of project, spontaneously :) I hope it's going to be a window bunting thingy when it's finished, but it all remains to be seen. It's ongoing. Got a sore back from cutting and pasting - in the literal sense, involving scissors and glue! So for today, I'm done.

This is the witch I drew. I think she's sort of cute :) Trying to teach Squirt that there are good witches too. He's just discovered the idea of witches, ghosts and the like, and he's not quite sure what to make of it all - & to be honest, neither am I! We'll figure it all out, head on, together, I guess ;)

I'll let you know if this witch turns into something finished!

tourists

Chinese tourists, mostly. People 'seeing Europe in 14 days'. They're off to do this:

Plastic culture! It's forgivable in tourists. It really is. Most of us have substituted the Real Thing for instant culture, somewhere - I know I have, anyway. But is it okay for locals?! I'm not so sure. Yet where we are now, we're a 20-minute bike ride away from this place (click). And all those typical Zaans-green gables? That's the colour of my roots... (although I prefer looking at those little bits of heritage 'in the wild', so to speak; find the gems right next to an industrial monstrosity for example. But I know you can't 'do Europe in a fortnight' and have time for a treasure hunt like that. I get that!) I was born around here, and got my first flashes of people and the world in these parts. I never thought it mattered, but I'm slowly finding out it does.

So. I don't have an excuse. It was a gut-inspired moment of... 'I have to'. Squirt in all his glory, intimately acquainting himself with wooden shoes. Slightly too big. You would have, too. Admit it!

duh

Ever think or write something that makes you say DUH?
I just wrote:

'I'm feeling so minimised by what I put on pedestals...'

There are WORLDS behind that ;-)

mesmerised

... and speaking of terrible, which I did, a while ago... Guess what these two are watching on an early Friday morning?

yes, I knew you'd get it, it IS the Teletubbies... And no. I'm not proud. Not really.

;)

dutch

Ah. We lost the World Cup to the Spanish. It was a sad day in soccer history, but I've learned to live with it by now. Between that, the signing of the contract - deed, whatever it's called - for the house (provided the mortgage comes through, we own a house! Yay!) and the chaos in my head, I haven't been able to squeeze out a meaningful blog post till now. But here I am!

Last Monday, my Moroccan friend N - she of the real Moroccan mint tea in my profile - naturalised to this frog country! Despite the sad soccer loss! She was so proud, I was so happy for her :)

Me & Squirt were there, applauding her and other applicants into the fold, listening to half-truths and flat-out lies about what it means to be Dutch. That's hindsight though. As it goes with these things, I was so sucked in at the time that I bellowed the National Anthem along with my new neighbours. Making sure not to look at the piece of paper seemingly lost for words, lest someone thought I was a Dutch soccer player. Actually, actually, for the first time ever I think, feeling traces of goosebumps. While singing the National Anthem. Yes. Ahem. But the moment passed and I'm fine. Dutch, but fine.

I was moved enough to pull out some of the culturally clichéd imagery to create an appropriate card of congratulations for N though. But only because I know she knows we don't all leave our windmills in the morning to walk the dikes wearing our wooden shoes, on our way to our day's work in the R.ed L.ight D.istrict. And we don't hang about picking tulips every day either! Just so you know!

scary

That is not our car. & it won't be, any time soon ;)
And this is a bad photo, plucked off the internet.
But provided all the paperwork clears, this will be our house come November! & hopefully a home soon after that!

We will finally be all grown up, mortgaged to the hilt...
Oh my... Oh my!

headless

Not an ancient site in Rome. Just a garden-variety mishap. Quite literally. The back garden in fact. Poor little plaster(?) lady who'd been hanging out on our garden table long enough to gather mossy bits... When it happened, I almost cried!

But wait - I can sort of explain that. Really. A few days before this incident, a little rose quartz heart I had been carrying around in my pocket for luck (quite obsessively), fell on my toe when I forgot to take it out before taking off my jeans. Ouch!

The next day, I knocked the bottle of rose water my mother gave me when Squirt was born (yeah. I know. But never mind that now) off the ledge where it - granted, precariously - had stood ever since I'd come home from hospital.

And then, this happened. Decapitation no less...

I saw signs. And they weren't good. I caught myself, standing puzzled, wondering what it all meant. Feeling I was surely headed for some great disaster...

But before you start to worry about my sanity - here it comes: the anti-climax. The soppy bit - the wisdom in the center of the bowl of oatmeal. I straightened my shoulders and took a deep breath. And I decided that - if it meant anything at all, it would be that I should stop looking for signs in the weird little accidents happening around me - to stuff. Stuff I was holding onto, holding dear, for no other reason than the idea that it all meant something. I decided then and there, that I should trust myself much more than the stuff I've been holding on to.

Paradoxically, I wouldn't be me if I didn't think that is exactly what these signs meant ;)

So I took the dear lady & her head, and glued them back together. They're inseparable for now - for as long as the weather lets the glue hold. Just hanging out on the table again.

I've made a mental note, though: if this chick loses her head again, it's more to do with the quality of the glue than with any sort of misery looming. Not sure similar guarantees apply to this here chick losing sense of perspective again - that happens on & off... I'm getting over myself though; one garden-variety mishap at the time!

Anyone else out there, putting too much stock in signs? I totally understand if you don't feel comfortable facing up to it all here - I only wrote this post so you know you're not alone ;)

einstein

I really did think my boy was a genius! For one short week, at 17 months, he knew four colours (red, white, green and blue) and every animal sound, including a peacock and a donkey.

I'm back with my feet firmly on the ground. These days, all cars are red. Even when they're not, really. And everything from mouse to 'omamant' (elephant) - and not limited to, but including mamma, pappa and 'tantitit' (my sister) - says 'hihi-ie-ie-ie', which is as horses do...

Maybe he's just testing me? To see if I buy this baby-crap?
I'm such an optimist ;)

Edited: I made a conscious decision not to change the way I write down what I think just because I might be misunderstood - but at the same time, being misunderstood is a Great Fear of mine. So... I sort of felt I had to come back here to tell you that Squirt is a verbal mastermind, who constructs sentences of up to 5 words at the age of 18 months! He's my absolute favourite brand of Special. I LOVE his 'baby-crap' & hope he'll keep it up much longer than he actually will. Just so you know!

more

Okay, so like I said, there is more!

It was easier to start telling my colour story from black and grey to my safe colours. The colours I gravitate to, sort of naturally.

But ever since being pregnant with Squirt, I've been falling in love with something a lot more dangerous... RED! I've no idea how that happened. I just woke up one morning, and found out that - apparently - I had a colour theme on my hands! And as it goes with colour themes: once you start, it's hard to stop. Red has become the colour of contrast in this house. As simple, or complicated, as that.

So the first grid I photographed - before deciding that my colour story as such passed through green and blue first and foremost - was red in nature. Food, more accurately.

Then, I looked around & found - way more red than is necessary for any one life time. After some serious editing, I could claim it's only accentuating the edges - but the truth is, this mosaic is me, showing a lot of restraint... But it gets worse. The goth deep, deep down inside of me could claim red as a colour of passion and be done with it - albeit grudgingly. If there wasn't evidence - and now proof - that there is more to it than just that. There is something fishy going on here. In my head, and even - in a curious single incident - in my closet (the clogs are for gardening purposes only, and the socks came in a batch with blues and greys. That's my story & I'm sticking to it!). I've struck... PINK!Pink! What's happening here?! Is it some sort of reaction to the fact that I'm the female minority in this house these days? Some form of defiance - resistance? Proof that I'm here? Has becoming a mamma made me aware of the fact that I'm a girl or something?! This really snuck up on me!

I have no idea where this is coming from! What I do know is, finding pink really shocked me out of my photographing frenzy of colour. I needed to sit and brood. Reclaim my inner goth for a bit. Listen to some Type O Negative & Nick Cave. Come to terms with the idea that my new-found interest in colour goes past gel pens, watercolour paint, crayons and pastels & what they can do on paper - straight to the heart of things: a PINK iPod and beyond!

I'll be back when I'm ready to embrace my inner girl...

brugman*

Listening to Squirt expanding his vocabulary. How he learns to capture what goes on around him. How he gets better and better at telling me what he wants, what he sees. Amazement. He'll come out with a word I can't remember 'teaching' him (like 'couch'. Unlike 'nincompoop'. Which I did teach him, and it comes out fluently.) and it just puts a huge grin on my face (and his)! Watching this progress in such an up-close way, on such a micro scale is... amazing! Educational! & definitely entertaining :)

He's got a very absolute two-word-sentence limit. Whenever he tries to add a third word to the mix the last two words become a missmatched hash - which is funny in its own league. Glasses, worn for sick-day ease, were a source of mixed entertainment (note to self: get glasses fixed - they perch precariously now). 'Glasses on' worked. So did 'mamma glasses'. 'Mamma glasses on' invariably became something resembling 'mamma gl..loop' (actual NL: 'mamma bl...lop'). The only exception to this rule is 'mamma water drink' (excuse my skew translation of toddler-Dutch to English - I can't do a better job without losing the essence here). I guess his mind thinks 'water drink' is one word. The technical implications of an exception like that boggle my brains, but I'll leave it to the experts for now. I'm too sure I'll miss something if I take a time-out to excavate the science!

I love how he tries words on, for size. He'll drag mamma, pappa, oma, opa AND Moroccan friend N into the mix to see if it works on all of us. This boils down to us all owning cars together. Or eating, being outside or in, upstairs or down, at work, at home, wearing shoes, socks, having legs and tummies. Still fine, communally speaking. More questionably, we're also taking a shower and going to the bathroom, as a group ;)
He also knows when something or someone isn't 'here'. He'll answer 'gone' (NL: 'weg') when asked. I think that's so cool :)

He seems to understand certain concepts, but not others, which is interesting. Yesterday, he was having lunch at the coffee table - just for the fact that I was too tired to sit up at the dinner table (still flu-ey). So I was lying on the couch watching him eat, and out of the blue, he pointed at the table and stated: 'table'. I was appropriately impressed so he proceeded: 'food table.' Yesss! Pointing at the couch, I asked him what it was. 'Couch.' This was going really well :) 'Mamma on the couch' was met by his 'mamma couch'. 'Food?' met by 'table'.
So when I asked: 'where is mamma?', I was told I was on the table. Of course. As you are.

Which goes to show we're not quite there yet. Thank goodness! Because I'm having way too much fun watching and listening to him trying it on and spinning it as only a toddler can!
There will be plenty of time for him to talk me onto a table, or into a corner, in neat compound sentences. If his progress is anything to go by, he'll become a master at that, a lot sooner than bears thinking... But please: not for a long time yet!


* Brugman: Father Brugman (1400-1473) was known for his fiery sermons. His name has far outlived him in the Dutch expression 'talking like Brugman', for someone who talks much and quite convincingly.

care

In the morning, before Squirt took his tumble, I had dropped a plastic container holding spag bol (well, something like it, anyway) on the kitchen floor. It cracked & spilled. Of course. I tried to clean it before little man crawled through the dregs, and in a 'mental note: clean pants later' kind of way I succeeded. Also, he was wearing one of his old shapeless onesies because I had had to change him three times the day before, for various reasons, and that's what was left. And, as I had spent the morning cleaning the attic and spare room, I was still in 'shower later' mode, which isn't pretty either.

So Squirt took his spill and we had to get to the doctor's office quickly. And that's how we looked. Squirt in his sauce-stained pants and his overly washed onesie, me with my unwashed hair in a careless ponytail. I had only just taken the trouble to put on 'real pants' instead of the tracksuit bottoms I was wearing! I'm painfully getting why old ladies tell you to always wear clean underwear because you don't know what the day will bring. It's not limited to underwear. Really.

And then Squirt started 'talking' to the doctor's assistent. And I said, as a sort of joke, 'oh, that's normal, he always talks like that!' The guy looked at me critically and asked me what Squirt was saying, then. I told him I didn't know; he's only 16 months old, and while he has a vocabulary of 50-odd words (which is impressive for his age!) I can't make sense of everything that comes out quite yet. Which was okay, because the assistent had thought Squirt was older than that. But still.

And then what happened yesterday!
Man took Squirt out on the train - a free ride to and from the town where he works, just for fun - and decided to change diapers in one of the bathrooms at his workplace. It was a bathroom for the disabled, so it had an alarm pull cord installed. You can connect the dots, I suppose ;-) Squirt happily pull-pull-pulling the cord while Pappa was obliviously bent over naked baby bum when security came bursting through the door using a passkey...

It all adds up! Had the proposed Electronic Child File been in place yet, I'm sure Squirt would have been flagged for showing possible signs of neglect AND abuse! That's how easily our efforts to be responsible parents can be misconstrued (hey, my kid might have fallen down the stairs, but I got him to a doctor real quick!!).

It has been quite a week!

wonder week

From Monday through to Wednesday? Not so great. Squirt was so obviously not himself. Yes, we'd both had colds, and no, Squirt still isn't totally over his, still coughing (when I prompt him, so cute!) and leaking from all orifices, but that really wasn't all that was plaguing him.

He was playing with his food, refusing to drink, suddenly off tomatoes ("bah!"); he was driving his cars all over the coffee table, pushing them off on purpose - refusing to pick them up himself, crying till I did it, and then start the whole sordid game again; he was frustrated whenever he found a toy upside-down; didn't want his diapers changed; cried in the shower; he was naughty x 2 - playing with the potted plants, not listening to my protests till I reached my 3-warnings-quota and plucked him away from the mess he made, which made him cry and do it all over again - of course; no sleeping at nap time; crying; waking up at night, multiple times, crying, refusing to go back to sleep; crying... The list is longer, but I'm guessing this will do ;-)

I got so tired of it. Only intermittently successfully not showing it. At some stage I pulled back into the kitchen, telling Squirt Mamma had 'gone fishing'. For a bit. In the sink. Or something. Anything to reclaim my nurturing side.

Till the penny dropped. This has happened before; whenever Squirt 'plays up' (baby/toddler-style) for more than 48 hours, it hits me. I've got this book. A book I certainly don't use as a Be All & End All, but one still pretty handy to have lying around. Whenever I think something unusual is up. And I'm always dead-on. Which means, of course, the book is. Really. Or at least, the book is right, too ;-)

It's a book by Frans Plooij & Hetty van de Rijt, and it has been around for centuries. At least. I would translate its title ('Oei, ik groei!') to 'Wow, I'm growing!'. I get that that might be too literal, but it sure ain't worse than its current English title 'The Wonder Weeks'. Which is lame.

But that aside, this book is good! Not because of its patronising tone, so much - jewels like this one: "But Mother doesn't mind that the child is crying, because she knows something amazing is going on in her little one's head!" (not quite literally, but along similar lines) pop up every so often. But all condescendence aside, it's true! As soon as I realise Squirt is taking one of his 'Predictable, Age-Linked Leaps in Mental Development (Characterized By The Three C'S (Crying, Cranky, Clingy), A Change In Perception, And The Development Of New Skills)', all is fine with our little world again! I don't need to read the whole chapter; I'm amazed at Squirt's development on a daily basis! But it puts the whole episode into perspective again.

And the funny thing is, as soon as I've uncovered what's going on, Squirt is back to his happy, funny, cute & cuddly self again! I'm not sure whether that is because I'm so slow - finally grabbing the book when he's worked through the whole mess all on his own - or because I relax once the 'problem' is identified, but we're having fun again! Anyway, since the book is talking in terms of weeks, and Squirt is always pretty much back on track within around 72 hours, we're not doing that badly!

So. Momma put the fishing rod & tackle box away again. Only one leap left in the book, but I'll try my darndest to read through it before the need to go fishing arises again :-D


N.B. The Dutch version talks about 10 distinct leaps, the English version only explains 8. Either Dutch kids are amazingly slow, or we develop beyond everyone else. I think it's the latter. But then, I would ;-)

juxtaposition

In this house - like I said before - you can eat off the floor.
Which means you can't really 'eat off the floor' as the saying goes.
Which is a bit of a contradiction, seeing that Baby Boy heartily eats off the floor on a daily basis...