Who am I

Now, should this be an honest snap shot of who I really am? Or should this be an over analyzed, identity crisis typed out in all it's glory? I could say I am an artist, or a horse person, I could say I am religious, an author, a traveler, or a welder, or pastry chef. But does that really tell you anything about me? I can say that I paint abstract art while listening to punk rock, and like drive to classical piano bu weld in silence. I ride horse in skater shoes and a hoodie. I have seldom chanced to be out of the country, and wish I could travel a lot, even though flying makes me ill. Now that tells you a little bit more about me. But at the same time, it tells you nothing, except that I am a walking contradiction.

I do not want to be known as 'An Artist' or 'A Horse Person'. I simply do not fit in any box, and I am pretty sure I would hate it if I did. For instance, would you like a list of things I have done in a dress and heels? Run, pound a fence post, push a stuck car, and shoot a gun.

I put down an animal when it needed to be done, and then balled my eyes out. I am a little girl when there is a spider on the ceiling, or anything to do with mucus.
If I knew why I did any of these thing, then that would be the really telling part about who I am. 

Do I refuse to fit into a box because somewhere deep inside I feel that I am not good enough at anything to fit properly into any box? Do I bounce to the tune of my own bird song because I am not sure I could keep rhythm with anyone else’s music, or because I don't like anybody else’s music?

There could be an entirely different angle too. Am I atypical to get attention? Then again it could be to keep people on their toes, so they never really get to know me. This would make sense given my ingrained abandonment issues. But that is a topic for an entirely different blogging day.

Needlepoint

I walked into a needle point store with a few mom-friends. (roughly my age who have children) They had been talking about how relaxing it is to do needlepoint, and what wonderful gifts it makes. I am a crafty person, so I though this might be kinda cool. Though I was already thinking about taking up quilting, long enough to make one for my parents and in-laws, I really wasn't sure I needed to add another activity to my set of unfinished activities. The matronly old lady was very happy to have this relatively young group in the store. We wandering though the array of brightly colored threads, vast and varied patterns, and intricate pieces on the wall, with six to eight hundred dollar price tags. I was told that a two and a half by two piece had taken one of the moms six years to complete. SIX YEARS?! There were sickly sweet patterns for puppys and kittys, duck, dolphins and horses, each taking thousands of little, criss-crossed stitches, and over half of a DECADE to produce. The lady asked who had been there before. Of the four of us two had been, and the other one was very interested in starting. The lady was pleased, and she asked me if I waanted to start as well. "No!" was my swift reply. "Well, that was very definite," the lady chuckled, "Why not?" "Cause it takes six freaking years to finish one, and it only looks that good if you do it right! And you can only sell six years worth of work, and a million poked finger tips, for 700$" is what I did not say. "I'm busy already, I sure don't need another hobby." I smile politely at the woman who I now considered to be a lunatic. If not before she started needlepoint, certainly at some point since. And while I wanted to run out screaming, with my hands flailing above my head, I politely helped the other moms sift through pages of patterns, to select the source of their eventual insanity. When we left the store I directed my friends to an art store, where I selected four square canvases, a tube of black acrylic paint, and a tube of white acrylic paint. And when I went home, I sat down with my small variety of brushes, and in four short hours I created a beautiful scene of wild horses, running through the snow. Four hours. Four canvases. Done.