Okay. Where are we going tonight?

For the last 1,000+ days I’ve sat down to blog and had this question somewhere in my mind. Granted, there have been times that I’ve absolutely KNOWN–these are the things I want to say. But even then writing has been the adventure that creativity is, full of twists, turns, and oh-wow moments. Not one single time in the last three years have I not been surprised by what’s inevitably birthed here at this keyboard, be it a clever phrase, a happy joke, or a somber theme. Even when I’m totally blank and thinking, Well, that’s it, I’m all dried up, some idea comes along out of nowhere to save my ass. Even when I’m certain I’m creatively bankrupt, something good magically appears.

Overall, today has been fabulous. Almost everyone, or at least the news anchors, in our area have been concerned with the weather (there have been tornado warnings), but I’ve been concerned with brooches, working on framing a few recent acquisitions. And whereas I got one project done today, I’m still waiting on paint and glue to dry before I can finish two others. Ugh. Everything is always a process. Both in art and in life, it seems that nothing is ever “done.” The good news about this, I suppose, is that not being done leaves room for The Mystery. Until you’ve reached the last page in a book–the last word–the story’s not over.

This evening I had dinner with a friend I’ve known for–gosh–over fifteen years now, one of the first people I came out to. Anyway, they made spaghetti, and we did what we always do–laugh, share stories, console. Then while I was on my way home I thought about how so very often I’m worried about money but how time with an old, true friend is absolutely priceless. How even if I had all the money in the world it wouldn’t have made tonight any better.

Well, it might have paid for some chocolate cake.

But still, I was happy.

We had cookies.

When I got home I helped my dad put a homemade dog bed (fashioned from old bath mats and a comforter) in my parents’ room for our family dog, Ella. My parents have a waterbed, and there’s a crawl-through space, a hiding area underneath the headboard where I guess Ella likes to go to chill out, get away, and rest her paws. Anyway, I positioned her new bed inside the crawl space, and she went right to it. Later I checked and she was still there, totally relaxed, content. This is my point about being happy. We make it complicated, but–really–it takes so little. Currently I’m in a comfortable chair sipping hot tea and listening to the rainfall.

What more do you need?

Now, an hour ago, just before I sat down to blog, I checked my bank account because I need to pay bills tomorrow. And whereas I’m not destitute–y’all–it wasn’t pretty. Hell, it hasn’t been pretty in years, especially since I closed my dance studio and started chasing my dream of being a writer. (My therapist says, “You ARE a writer.” So I correct myself–chasing my dream of being a PAID writer.) Ugh. I have friends that make both positive and sarcastic comments about how NICE it must be to sleep in every day and spend my days reading, writing, and–now–framing brooches. And, y’all, it is. It is NICE. But trying something new and living a non-conventional life always comes at a cost. And whereas it’s not always a financial cost, it often is, at least for a while. I add “at least for a while” because that’s my hope, that–sooner or later–the lean times will fatten up.

Dear God, please make it sooner.

Earlier tonight my mom sent me a glorious and emotional video and testimonial by Steve Harvey. Essentially, years ago Harvey was on his last leg, down to his final $35, when he was offered a stand-up gig in New York. Phew, you might think, but Harvey didn’t live in New York and–newsflash–plane tickets cost more than $35. But then–just like that–two other stand-up gigs came through and Harvey was able to make the New York gig. From there, his career took off. Later Mom and I were talking about it, and she reiterated Harvey’s advice–never give up. Because you’re CERTAIN to not succeed if you quit. But if you keep going, well, anything could happen. God could step in.

“That’s one thing about God,” I told Mom. “He always waits until the last damn minute. He’s so dramatic.”

“He certainly can be,” Mom said.

That’s Mom, ever the diplomat.

Getting back to creativity and writing and the idea that you never know what’s going to appear, I suppose this idea applies to our lives too. That is, just when we least expect it, something good comes along. My therapist says she’s noticed this happens a lot for me. Whenever I’m down and thinking, I am SO SCREWED, the universe saves my ass. Out of nowhere, a check shows up. An idea comes along. Even it’s not a windfall (so far it’s never been a windfall), it’s enough to get me through. Regardless, I’m always left dumbfounded, amazed. Just like I am when I consider any good fortune, including any good friend who comes into my life. I think, I never could have planned this. I’m always so surprised. That’s the thing. You never see miracles coming.

you never see miracles coming