Hello?

Hello darlings,

it's been such a long time since I've ventured into the regions of my jewelry making self. My decision to stop making jewelry was perhaps a bit sudden, and certainly more than a bit dramatic, but it had to be done. I was about to enter a PhD program in a new city, and I simply had to focus.


I finished the first quarter of the coursework part of my PhD and it went very well; despite the fact that my last paper was written in a coffee and nicotine induced daze, I managed to get it done and be content with my performance. As my work is becoming more serious, I am expected to present my papers at conferences and get them published in academic journals. Considering these new and difficult responsibilities, I know you will understand why I had to give up all distracting hobbies, as fun as they may have been.

I am now enjoying the winter holidays, and feeling a bit nostalgic... Ah, last year, when I created and wrote about creating... when I met like minded artisans and made friends with my customers. I don't think I am ready to give up that part of my life yet, but it must take another form.


I was thinking of continuing my DIY activities, but making them somehow part of my work. But what to make? Sell poems on etsy? Make philosophy paper inspired collages? Knit academic sweaters with super nerd quotes? Help!

I am in need of your lovely creative ideas. So pretty please, shed some suggestions below.

Hope you darlings have been well, and hi! :)

Summer days.

Hello, darlings.

I have been a pretty lazy person lately. The summer haze has numbed me in the most pleasant of ways, and I have been simply enjoying myself. Music has come back into my life and I have been listening to all my old CDs, lying in the grass, walking among trees and dancing in the night.

I am having a serious inclination towards closing down my etsy shop. Some of you who have read my previous posts will know my recurring struggle between writing and crafting. I am always on the verge of giving it all up to just write, but the moment I actually do that, little beads begin to dance underneath my fingers, and pretty wires coil themselves around my wrists. I get pulled back into the studio, and I begin to tinker with material things while the ghosts of words past haunt me incessantly.

I have no idea what will happen, but I know this: art is nothing without discipline. I must decide, and then discipline myself. If it's writing, let it begin at 8AM with the typing of drafts. I must get a move on, otherwise I will forever rest on my potential and never make anything out of it.

The best things in life are written.

It has never been difficult to trigger my inclination towards short, intense obsession. Most often I would wake from these obsessions like from a nightmare; my soul sweaty, my inner heart beating an uneven rhythm indicative of a subtle panic. Upon each waking, I would ask myself: "Why did I walk through the last months of my life completely unconscious, unaware of my surroundings? Why did I waste all that time?"

I own everything.

I have felted, knitted, drawn and painted; stuffed things, stripped others, cut and pasted; tattoed, appliqued, burnt and enameled--I have wasted and hoarded and woven and braided.

And none of these things has left me satisfied.

In the end, it must be words and only words. My bones are made of words, I used to say. But now I want to grow letters instead of hair.

A tulip is a tulip is a tulip is a tulip.

"Everything is so dangerous that nothing is really very frightening."

"To write is to write is to write is to write is to write is to write is to write."


-Gertrude Stein