The problem that I have with where I live is that everywhere I go in this town I am haunted by ghosts of the past. Every street, lake, stream, tree, or neighborhood reminds me of my past. I have strong associations with all of them, and I find that my memories are following me around and negatively affecting my current life. I can't wait to move somewhere new, if only because I will be able to stop obsessing about the past and things I cannot change or return to, and be able to focus on the present and the future.
In other news, I just spent $80 dollars at Michael's and I started on my art project. I am currently spray painting one of my birdcages to look like stone. I also bought a diorama set so I can set up a miniature scene inside of my birdcage complete with dinosaurs, trees, grass, and rocks. I also bought several pieces of wood for my second project and I think I am going to go through with my original idea that I didn't think I had time to do. To add an element of stress, I bought mosaic tiles and grout, which I have never worked with, and I'm going to try and do something with that.
So far a productive day off.
What memories? Can you elaborate?
ReplyDeleteIt will be hard to visit from Colorado. (By the way, did you know Colorado is Spanish for "Colored"? How racist is that?)
Do you sell your art?
Your blog title is probably not an intentional reference to this poem, but perhaps this poem is meant for you.
ReplyDeleteI Am!
I am! yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost;
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;
And yet I am! and live with shadows tost
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
And e'en the dearest—that I loved the best—
Are strange—nay, rather stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smil'd or wept;
There to abide with my creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;
The grass below—above the vaulted sky.
--by John Clare
FYI he wrote that poem from the Northamptonshire County General Lunatic Asylum, where he lived the last 23 yrs of his life.
ReplyDeleteGreat poem, though. Always liked that one.
AM are my initials actually, I thought it was clever because it's like "I AM" and then my blog titles say what I am.
ReplyDeleteAs for the memories, they are memories of things like past friends which stir up emotions depending on what part of my life they were from. Also childhood memories, memories of crimes of my past...just too many things really to list. If I were to go through them all I would basically have to write a book about my life so far.
And I do sell my art! No takers yet. My stuff has been pretty bizarre lately, though.
That poem is amazing! It is perfect for me, and even more specifically for this post.