I'm tired and it's late and I'm at war with myself about whether to write or paint or sleep.
Apparently, writing wins again even though I've had my art supplies sprawled out on the table for three days, make that three months now. Zero points for sleep yet again.
I'm determined to paint because brushstrokes are good for when life is confusing, which is generally most of the time. I hate to say it, but looking back at some of my paintings, my color wheel is highly representative of my various emotions and I think there was a whole orange-brown thing going on at one point that I'd rather not repeat. See, painting teaches me things.
All things risk and rejection, it teaches me that some people won't necessarily get it when I hang up misfit paintings or give them away, but this does make for fun moments. Remember, if I give you a painting and you hide it away in a box, I will find that box someday.
I practice risking in small, concrete ways to be sure even though my general form of risking feels like something that happened to me tonight. It feels like looking for my keys in the dark. In a dumpster.
I know that's an odd metaphor for risking, but honestly, is risking not sometimes awful and makes you want to puke and is frightening because you think you are going to have to go headfirst into a dumpster?
Let me explain.
Tonight, much to my dismay, when I threw my trash into the dumpster, my keys were also in the same hand and when I let go of the bag, the keys tumbled in accidently. This kind of thing should not surprise me, but I was dumbfounded. How does that even happen? It was pitch dark. I was locked out of my apartment with no lights to look inside the completely full dumpster and most of my neighbors lights were out. Lovely.
Again, being me, I had no problem knocking on neighbors' doors because my first attempt to grab hold of the keys by fumbling through the dumpster blindly was a fail. I heard the noise of the keys fall further down and then I gave up.
On nights like these I remember why I love my neighbors so much.
It took a few minutes of sifting through the trash but thankfully, we (as in me, because I had gotten myself into this mess) did not have to go in too deep. We found them! I didn't have to go in headfirst after all.
(Side note: I sort of hate the idea of having to crawl completely into a dumpster. And I probably would refrain from telling you this story if that actually happened and my neighbor had to watch me. What does that tell you about me?)
If this has happened to you, you might have a newfound love for flashlights. They are my new favorite. Having a light in the dark means despite all the trash around you and the possibility of really and truly climbing in garbage, you will find what you're looking for.
The irony of this story? I told my neighbor never to repeat this to anyone, but here I am telling you all.
Risk and rejection.
And then this. Landfill Harmonic is the best.
How is this for strange? I was thinking of this today before the whole dumpster incident. I can't even explain it.
Remember, "the world sends us garbage....we send back music." Or keys.
linking with amy for a little more #riskrejection this month
and emily for imperfect prose