*Learn the Italian national anthem. (Yes, those balcony vids!)
*Learn the NZ national anthem Maori version.
*Memorize Kipling's poem, "If".
*Memorize Bruce Mason's "End of the Golden Weather". When we came to NZ in 1994, I took out a whole lot of New Zealand plays, short stories and some novels from the library. This was the first, and we lived in the area of the North Shore where the story took place, in the right season, so even though the subject is perhaps not my usual, just the title brings back memories of our earliest days in NZ.
*Read Shakespeare's plays in order they were said to have been written.
*Read Van Gogh letters.
*Read the rest of Van Gogh biographies I already have.
*Put a long warp and weave a little every day as a diary.
*Alternatively knit somethings that are not anything specific, (i.e. abstract?) using different yarns/colors, adding every day.
*Alternatively knit small somethings by adding every day but completing/cutting off weekly/fortnightly.
*Work on a one-ever-day project in the sketchbook.
*Alternatively work on a more in-depth weekly/fortnightly project, e.g prints.
*Pick a cookbook and cook everything in it or one whole section of the book.
I remember some I gave brief thought to but knew I wouldn't last more than a few days. Any would have been worthy but considering how restless I've been especially during the first Level 4 and 3 lockdown, I put the "failure" to give these further thought to my knowing better how I... operate/live.
*Learn Maori (language.)
*Learn Italian.
*Learn NZ sign language.
* Clean the stash room and downstairs work space. (I have done little bits but I've contemplated a grand overhaul since I've come back from Japan a year ago because I wanted a setup that suited what might be the "rest of my life" weaving style, whatever that may be. In the first instance I was busy weaving immediately after I came home so that was halted. I also needed to sort/store/give away Mom's clothes I brought back. I've washed everything early in the lockdown, cleaned out my closet, sorted and given away lots, but haven't gotten enough space to store what I'd like to keep, so they are sitting on the stash room floor. And, you know, I have to be in the mood for a big tidying for this mammoth job. Yikes.)
I contemplated living normally, but I felt acute FOMO if I were not to live intensively in this shared period. Also if a Plague couldn't provide a switch/addition to how I approach making and life, I knew I'm a dead soul.
Looking back, I'm not sure as yet if it's had a long-lasting effect on my making in particular. I "enjoyed" the sense of camaraderie shared by "the world", even though in Feb/March/April it was mostly Asia and Europe plus some of us who read/watched obsessively. I feel just as disappointed not having a productive day as before, but I may now place equal value to a day spent weeding, cooking, knitting something I might unravell, or reading, as I do weaving or working on a project. Even watching endless YouTube on interesting subjects.
I'm less angry at myself for having unproductive times/days, which at once worries me, (you can't get slacker than me, I tell ya,) but this allows me to start afresh whenever/whatever. I think the expression here is "less apologetic", and that can only be a good thing for someone who's apologized profusely, (to whom?) for not living up to (whose?) expectations. I get the feeling this was already happening pre-Plague due to my old age and decreasing mental stamina and stickability. But if I'm turning into one of those people who "talk" less and work away quietly, I can like myself little more?
You obviously need a permanent lockdown!
ReplyDeleteLOL, I live life not too different from a hard lockdown without the plague anyway, and still don't manage good time management.
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