The posts about September, particularly about the workshop, was exhausting to write, and yet I felt driven to report back, in all its disparate parts; it was another of my self-imposed responsibilities. I'm comfortable being the newbie in any workshop as I wrote here and here, and in that respect, I think I've come to be completely open to any eventualities. I thought was getting better at it.
My state of mind during that workshop, I hope, points to my having had different expectations for this workshop, albeit most probably unrelated to the outcome of my projects. Something around how I expected myself to behave? Alternatives are a bit scary to contemplate.
After I posted the post with shots of my projects, I felt a tremendous relief, of having met my obligations. And was ready to move on. The sky suddenly opened and I discovered sitting in a sunny warm Nelson summer afternoon. (Last weekend was the first spring/summer weather we had this season.)
But not for long. By Sunday evening I was once again wondering why I have this compulsion to spell out almost everything, (believe it or not, my posts were censored by my standards;) why I blog and what it's for, (therapy is definitely a big one;) and whether I should just zap everything on the Internet and forget I existed in this current incarnation. But I've gone around this circle many times before and knew I wouldn't arrive at any practicable solution. So that's why I spent most of yesterday ironing; I find ironing very mindless and yet I have to concentrate to do it right, so a good practical/escape task. And I had most of Ben's closet in my basket.
I buy books when I feel insecure or stupid, because the act of buying books gives me the illusion of having learned something. These are some of what I bought in September - I finished one, and have started on five, but am trying to concentrate on "Freedom" to deflect my attention from myself. The two books on brains, I bought in the hour before going to the Wada lecture; they are so not what I'd normally look at, I was very interested that I was interested in the subject. Earlier in the month, I had to abandon Rutherford's "New York"; I feel guilty not finishing a book I start, but I convinced myself my life is much too short for bad fiction.
I have indigo duty tomorrow, so I'm supposed to be preparing a couple of items to dye today.
Oh, I found another breathtakingly beautiful blog here, a la Doni's Deli, called Shipbuilder, courtesy of and a friend of Sampling's, and apparently a weaver!