Surprisingly, there’s one “project” that I haven’t lost momentum on. Art journaling. Yes, I am still at it. In fact, I’m learning even more techniques, reading, and trying to grow. I got a few art journal/ mixed media art books for Christmas (I was saving for a Nook, but decided that some of these books would be more fun) and I’m gobbling them up.
I tend to flit from thing to thing. Sometimes I have great powers of concentration. I can focus on details or the big picture. Or both. But hobbies? I jump around a lot. I get really enthusiastic in the beginning, but it tapers off.
But I’ve written in journals since elementary school. Adding pictures, doodles, paint, collage … it has opened up a new arena of inspiration for me. There are times when I just write because I need a lot of blank paper to get my thoughts out. But other times, I enjoy adding a design element to it.
I really, REALLY enjoy it. I’ve had such a hard time finding things that I like over the last year. I’m still having some trouble finding direction, especially in my career. But at least there’s one little thing that is providing some enjoyment right now.
Having trouble tonight, thinking of something to say. I’m a bit preoccupied with things. We have some friends coming into town, only it’s not a happy occasion due to a death in their family. Thanksgiving is rapidly approaching. As is our son’s second birthday. I’m mostly enjoying writing every single day, although I obviously can’t be brilliant every day (hey, I would take being brilliant once every couple of weeks, thank you).
I could do a bunch of freewriting and eventually come up with something, but that would bore you (& probably me) to tears.
I’m frustrated. What’s new? My dad and his brothers were all storytellers. And hysterically funny. Why am I not able to do that, too?
I’m mad at myself for being so dissatisfied with me and what I have. I see other writers succeeding and I am happy for them. But then I turn a critical eye to myself and wonder why I’m not finding opportunities like that. Why I’m not a better writer. Why I don’t have more traffic and can’t build up an audience. I’m so busy beating myself up that I can’t see a way out of it – a way to improve what I’m doing.
I get so jealous of moms who get to stay home without working. Oh, the things I could do with my son if I didn’t have to sit in a chair 5-7 hours a day and work my tail off to barely get by. But I knew this going in. I knew this when I quit my job to work from home. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. I knew we’d have a tight budget. I just wanted to spend the time with my son.
Here’s the thing though. I’m not really sure how quality that time is. And I wonder if he’d be better off in daycare. With other kids to interact with and a structured schedule. And someone besides mommy all day. He has no other kids to play with.
So I either need to buck up and find some better paying work (writing gigs that pay better than the ones I’ve been getting) or suck it up and get a job. Not something I want to be thinking about right now.