It took me probably six months to accept that I am a stutterer. Now I’m accepting solitude as a way of life. I’m watching my condo change from a place that was designed to welcome guests, to a place that serves me. My kitchen is where I work now so my counters are covered in crafting supplies and my dining room is where I store my finished pieces. And this morning I took my large footstool downstairs to my locker.
Besides losing the footstool, I cleaned up. Because I no longer entertain, my custom of keeping the place tidy dissolved. I keep my place pretty clean, but untidy. I move furniture around every day according to my needs and I leave stuff everywhere. Why not?
But it feels good to have my place all tidy again. It’ll all go to hell when I get back to work on my dresses but it’s nice to be able to move around easily and to have “space.” Plus: I fixed a long-broken drawer.
I’m going to part one of Angels in America this afternoon. It’s directed by a brilliant director, Kim Collier, so I have high expectations. I have never seen this extraordinary show.
And another week has passed — yet another one with no Boca decision and neither my doilies, marbles nor flocking. This week yielded naught of my hopes and dreams except for the Ethafoam. Dream achievement score: 25%.
And I rejected the Ethafoam. Although it’s an excellent medium, it’s too purposeful… too commercial. I prefer working with cheaper, more quotidian materials and I think I’ve found an alternate — dry pulp sold for children’s sculpting material that might suit my purpose.
And while I cleaned and tidied on a dull grey wet day at Davie and Burrard where I have been landlocked forever, I thought of my friend Bruce idling in Florence with his friends Karen and Bernard and Beth with her sister-in-soul, Lynn, in Paris.
Next year at this time I’ll be concluding two years of psychiatric therapy; Dr. Shoja will be cutting me loose. Yes, let’s be real, the thought terrifies me. But on the other hand, maybe I will go back to France. I have to do that again when my friends are there.
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