I am an artist, a wife, a mother, a friend, a deviant and a special education teacher. I say artist first because I cease to be sane if i don't work on my art, seriously, I have to go into therapy... My work is an evolution of my experiences and philosophy. It spans multiple mediums and subjects, most recently focusing on the balance of expression and form. I spend a lot of time on chaos theory and macro/micro theory. The theory of balance and entropy in the universe fuels my inspiration. I love movies and philosophy, sometimes spiraling into deep conversations about both. These are my musings and thoughts, as well as insight into my artistic process and my work
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So, into the fall we go. I went back to work in August, my daughter turned 1 on the first day of school. It has been an interesting adjustment to say the least. I do love teaching. Interacting and learning with the kids is amazing. I am feeling a little disconnected though. I am only part time, and it doesn't give me time to prep, or be as involved with my school community. All of my time is spent in the moment, there is no time to reflect or prepare for anything really. When I get home, I have to be in the moment with my baby too. No time to get anything done outside of daily prep. Ugh. Change is the only constant. As we move into fall, the days shorten and there is more of a sense of urgency for some reason. Time is relative, and it seems to be speeding up.
So, I watched "My Week With Marilyn" with Michelle Williams. It is centered around the filming of "The Prince and the Showgirl" in England, and the connection she had with a young Brit (Eddie Redmayne) working on the film. Redmayne gives a sweet performance through the inevitable heartbreak as Icarus flying too close to the sun. The interesting thing about Marilyn is that she herself was a caricature. Her actual persona was larger than life, and anyone playing her has to walk the line of honest portrayal and over-the-top drag impersonation. Michelle Williams did a lovely job, though she focused on the fragile, self-conscious, psychoses riddled side of her. Marilyn Monroe is one of those enigmatic creatures that has an effect on everyone, you want to know her, help her, be her friend, sleep with her, protect her. The film was well done, and it's unfortunate that Kenneth Branagh's Olivier was overshadowed, he always is excellent. More so than anything it made me curious about Marilyn. I wanted to know how screwed up she was, was she screwed up, what she thought about her fame, what she was feeling. I guess that is the sign of a good biopic. It is strange to me that, even fifty years after her death, we are still so enamored with her. She is both the epitome of sex and so innocent at the same time. I wonder if she didn't know exactly what she was doing. This film shows a self-conscious and doubting side of her that is often left out, and leaves me with a more human picture of an icon.
It is officially summer, though if you live in the desert, summer started in April. Time management has never been my strong suit. I tend to live in the moment and get caught up in whatever I am doing. I have made good use of my alarm on my phone and always have at least five reminders a day. I have found though, that being a stay at home mom trashes any notion of a routine I might have. My life is ruled by a tiny person. Don't get me wrong, I love my daughter, I love not having a rigorous schedule, I love being able to spend twenty minutes playing peekaboo. The issue I face is that the rest of the world is still on a schedule. So how do I reconcile taking care of my baby and staying on a schedule? Many people have said to me, that's just how it goes, or you just make it work. Have we really become so callous to moms? Raising a child is hard work! I am not wallowing or saying boo hoo, however, the attitude is horrible. Moms don't get enough credit, dammit! We are just supposed to suck it up, and deal. I keep reading blogs and posts about this sort of thing, and it seems to be a polarizing topic. Either people are too sensitive or they are accused of being mean. Why can't we, as parents, come together as a team? Support one and other, rejoice in accomplishments and commiserate when frustrated? Just food for thought.
As I sit on my porch, enjoying the little amount of alone time I get, I look out at my yard. There are two shovels jutting out of a mound from a half dug trench. The rusty lines of an archaic sprinkler system lie, exposed, taking a 90 degree turn before disappearing into the dirt again. The orange spray paint has all but faded from where I mapped out our future grass patch. I have to finish digging before Jon goes back to work in as little as a week. Ugh.