• Post Title and Inspiration:
Mary Oliver — Still, what I want in my life is to be willing to be dazzled–To cast aside the weight of facts–And maybe even to float a little above this difficult world.
Floating a Little
10 Jun 2020 Leave a comment
in Art, Covid19, hand-made cards, Mental Health, support Tags: Firefly, Nathan Fillion, Serenity
8 Years
06 Feb 2019 6 Comments
in Art, bipolar disorder, blogging, Mental Health, Mental Illness, mixed-media art Tags: anniversary, Firefly, Nathan Fillion
… and to you.
Thank you for flying the ‘Verse with me for some fraction of those eight years.
Thank you for your kind words and support.
We are still on an Adventure.
Fury Road
07 Mar 2017 26 Comments
in Art, Bipolar Bad-Ass Training, bipolar disorder, Mental Health, Mental Illness, mixed-state, TV and Movies, video Tags: anger, Charlize Theron, Firefly
I woke up this morning feeling like—as my friend, Lily, so delicately puts it—dog shit on the bottom of God’s shoe. Also, furious. But I pulled on my swimsuit, intending to take it out in the water. Except I was 90 minutes early.
Fury boiled.
I raced to the nearest salon. “Can someone cut my hair right now?”
“Yes!” the hapless pixie piped. “And today all haircuts are $10!”
“Great. Shave it all off. I can’t stand it another second. I’m tired of trying to look like something.”
She did.
And I left feeling like my outside finally matched my inside. Furious. And the closest I’ll ever come to looking like Charlize Theron.
Furious helps. Furious brings the Bad-Ass, which is now in full display.
I roared off to misbehave and brought home two bags full of art supplies. Now we’ll see what fury can really do.
ψ
Look! A Baby Wolf!
15 Feb 2016 16 Comments
in bipolar disorder, Books, creativity, distraction, humor, Mental Health, Mental Illness, mixed-media art, mixed-state, rapid cycling, TV and Movies, video Tags: Continental Divide, Firefly, John Cleese, Monty Python, Rehydrating antique paper, The Fly
Do certain lines from movies and TV dig like earwigs into your brain and become part of your vocabulary? (Please tell me I’m not alone in this). Whether it’s John Cleese in Monty Python and The Holy Grail:
Or Gina Davis in The Fly”
Or most anything from Firefly:
A truly horrible movie came out in 1981—John Belushi, Blair Brown, Continental Divide. This was Belushi’s attempt at being a romantic lead. Yeesh. When Brown tries to make him tell the truth, he weasels out of it with a great line that stuck in my head. “Look, a baby wolf!”
Sort of like the dog in Up!:
So, that’s my shorthand for Let’s not talk about how crazy I feel. Let’s look at something shiny instead (Another Firefly reference, thank you very much).
Look! A Baby Wolf!
I learned how to rehydrate old paper. I found a set of German books so old they didn’t have copyrights. Best guess is that they’re from the 1830s. The acidic paper in books this old falls apart with a touch and soaks up anything moist. So, as background paper for my cards, I can’t really do anything but use them as is—which is gorgeous. I love the beautiful type and the design element of foreign text. But I wanted the option of dressing them up if I wanted to. After a little Googling and found a ridiculously simple rehydrating process. To my amazement, it worked. I feel so science-y!
Get a container with an air-tight lid. Set a smaller container of water in the center. Carefully tuck the ancient paper around the smaller container (that’s the tricky part—curling the paper without it crumbling to bits). Seal the container and let it sit for a day.
That’s the whole process.
The book pages came out a little more supple, a little better able to hold color. They still sucked up the moisture of inks and sprays, but I’m sorta digging the subtle results.
Another day of rehydration, yielded bolder colors.
Awesome Sauce!
Late Trains
26 Apr 2013 18 Comments
in Bipolar Bad-Ass Training, bipolar disorder, Mental Health, mixed-state, rapid cycling, TV and Movies Tags: Firefly, hospital, Malcolm Reynolds, mental health professionals, self-care
I’ve been waiting a week now for help, waiting for my therapist to return my calls, waiting for the hospital’s day program to accept me, waiting for the mental health professionals to save me. I’m beginning to think like my Firefly friend, Malcolm Reynolds. He tells Shepherd Book, “I ain’t lookin’ for help from on high. That’s a long wait for a train don’t come.”
Even if Mercy calls today, I wouldn’t start partial hospitalization until Monday. That’s three more days I have to get through. The prospect of spending three more days holed up in my jammies is unacceptable. If I have to work my way out of this by myself, then I’d better get started.
There’s still a Bad Ass inside me, still a part of me that fights to live. I can’t just forget all the training I’ve gone through, all the work and effort I’ve made to come to terms with this bipolar business. I’m tired just now from the fight, and resentful of how hard I have to work every day. Every gorram day. But waiting for help that may never come isn’t the answer. It’s up to me. It always has been.
So, impossible as it seems, I’ll get dressed. I’ll go to my water aerobics class and reassure my friends there. I’ll take myself to breakfast and journal my way through this strange situation. I’ll take back the DVDs I’ve watched and get a few groceries. I’ll take care of myself.
I never much cared for trains anyway.
SandySue Altered
