A little good news came my way this morning. My dear hubby found his best friend from childhood on Facebook today. He’s been searching for him for some years now, wondering, fearing that something had happened to him. But fortunately, now he knows that at least his dear friend is alive and appears to be doing well. Even though he has been downplaying the effect that his best friend’s absence has had on his life, I know deep down, he has been troubled by it. To see the relief in his eyes warms me and I feel happy for him.
I think culturally we need to give more honor to our friendships. Our friendships can effect us so deeply. I’ve always joked around and said “Friendships are no different than marriage…minus the sex and bills.”
We love our friends. Some friendships last into old age. Some last for only a moment. Some friendships are a refuge of peace and some are filled with ruckus and silliness. Some end tragically. Some end dramatically. And yet some fade quietly only to leave those involved wondering what happened.
It’s sad that we don’t give as much honorary significance to our friendships as we do our romantic relationships. Friendships are their own unique love stories filled with laughter, fights and tears. There are memorable moments, close calls, hidden scars, buried hatchets, secrets and skeletons. There are parts of ourselves that we may share with no one other than that beloved best friend, yet for such closeness we can turn around and be so frivolous with our friendships. We toss them aside so easily through the act of avoidance. Unlike romantic relationships, where an end needs to be declared or an explanation is warranted, no such thing is required for friendships. People just stop talking or stop hanging out. And in the wake of such break ups there’s no support. To where or to whom do you turn when your heart is broken from a jilted friendship? What support groups are there for when the one person who has known you since the sandbox no longer cares to have you in their life? We may bare our bodies to many lovers in a lifetime but it is often our best friend to whom we bare our souls, yet we have no special ceremonies to mark these relationships, no process or protocol to signal their end or any support system to grieve their dissolution. We walk around conflicted as how to express the significance of our friends in our lives and quietly bare the anguish at the loss of those friendships.
If nothing more comes from my husband finding his old friend on Facebook, I at least know he can carry on in peace knowing that his friend is okay. It’s a chapter in his life he can give some closure to and to that I’m grateful.
Okay, I thought that I wouldn’t do another post until Sunday, after we’ve all had time to recover a bit from our turkey comas but I couldn’t wait and had to type up this post in hopes that maybe someone has some answers. So here’s my question, did the Brexit have an effect on shipping items from the US to the UK?
Today I had the wonderful surprise of shipping a three ounce item to the UK at three times the cost of what I’ve previously paid for shipping similar items using International First Class mail. I found myself fussing with the postal clerk because I just knew she charged me wrong. But that was indeed the price and the only explanation I could come up with is that maybe Brexit has something to do with it. If this is the case then this really puts me in a dilemma with selling my art to lovely fans in the United Kingdom, who make up one fourth of my followers and collectors. Now I either have to increase my shipping rates to compensate for the cost or not sell to the UK at all. I really don’t want to stop selling to people in the UK so I’ll be upping my shipping cost but this really sucks. It’s frustrating enough that postal costs keep going up and changing every year here in the US, now I also have to keep up on how political issues in other countries may effect me selling my art to international fans. Feeling rather bummed about this. 😒
Mourning the absence of my softness in this aggressive world. I may have been taught to survive but I was never taught how to live.
Pretty much, it’s on it’s last leg…I guess. It’s only two years old but in the tech world that’s equivalent to being a dinosaur. Actually, the screen just keeps blacking out and although, with the help of a few Youtube videos, I’ve found some solutions but they only turned out to be temporary fixes. So I’ve succumbed to the reality that it’s time to get a new one. I suspect that these devices are designed to start malfunctioning around 2-3 years from reading through Youtube comments and noticing others were having the same issues around the same time with their phones. It feels a bit like a con that forces you to upgrade not because there’s some amazing function on the new phones that will ultimately improve your life but simply because the company and manufacturers need to keep making profit. Things are no longer built to last, they’re just built for consumption.
As someone who does most of her online activities on her phone, I thought being without it would be awkward at best, agonizing at worst. I’ve gotten so use to checking Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, WordPress, eMail, ordering stuff through apps, and watching Netflix via my phone, I thought that not having mobile access would disrupt my daily existence. That clearly has not been the case. Actually my mind has been at ease. Although I can do all of those things on my laptop, which is more so a backup strategy for me, I’m really not too fond of sitting in from of my computer. So I’d rather do something else than crack open my laptop, unless it’s absolutely necessary, like right now. Instead, today, I did some reading, worked on some of my art, cleaned the bathroom, worked out, made chili from left over meat sauce and took a nap. It was a relaxing day with none of the anxiety that creeps in when your phone is “dry” or acting like a Pavlovian dog with all the constant blinking or buzzing from text messages, emails, “likes”, retweets and comments. Not that I don’t appreciate the engagement but I can’t help but notice how it’s conditioning me. It’s nice to just be with myself even if the “disconnection” was involuntary.
So I have a new phone on order and therefore waiting on its delivery. In the meantime it will probably be a few days before I do anymore posts, as I said before, I really don’t like sitting in front of this laptop. So until my phone gets here I’m going to just enjoy my “me time” with hopes that all of you lovelies are doing well.
Sometimes I wonder, does the artist choose their medium or does the medium choose the artist. It’s a bit odd to think that some inanimate object has chosen you to master its ways and intricacies but is it possible that in some mysterious kind of way an artist gravitates, maybe even feels compelled to take up a particular medium, forsaking all others just for that One? I ponder this sometimes because pen and ink in all honesty is an unforgiving medium and pointillism is laborious technique. Yet I love it and I can’t really explain why. I try but the words don’t seem to fully convey what I want to express. It’s more a feeling than anything logical. Maybe our chosen mediums are an expression of our personalities. Maybe certain personalities gravitate towards paints, while others take up watercolors and still others prefer charcoal, pastels or color pencils.
The pen is a precise instrument. It requires a certainty and control in stroke because once it’s made there’s no erasing it or covering it up. If a mistake is made you either have to live with it or start all over. So you have to be sure of what you intend to do. And while ink on its own can be messy and unpredictable, the pen itself is sleek and neat, where together they create a harmony that flows out when one masters the stroke.
So sitting here, giving it some thought, I can see how maybe certain creative personalities do gravitate towards certain mediums and styles. I’m rather neat and orderly in my personal life. Bit of a stickler for semantics. Strong preference for taking my time with things. I despise being rushed unless there’s an emergency. I like things to be refined and elegant yet modest. And to top it off I used to want to be an architect (still do), which is a field all about precision and control as well as creativity. So maybe my love for pen and ink has a lot to do with my personality. I chose it and it chose me because we’re suitable for each other. A perfect match made in an artsy heaven.
I now want to go shop for fountain pens. 😊