The sun rose and set on the wings of the robin.

I have only written two poems in April. Thus far, the count for the year is 32, which means I still have a long way to go. Writing is sometimes difficult for me, it requires that I dredge up some past or some emotion and sometimes all I want to do is go through a week of being blindly human. Going to work and coming home and cooking meals and petting my cat and laughing with friends, without any pesky remembrance.

Then I'll see someone on the train that we both know, and want to ask how you are, but I can't and that makes me feel close to violently ill, and I'll come home and won't let myself write about that. Sometimes, I'll write poems that are lists of things that I'm not allowed to tell about.

Spring is nice, the blooming is important. I've been drawing robins again, because I've decided that I want one tattooed on my chest, the right side, because I've had this Leonard Cohen lyric in my head for three years now (this is also why robins often appear in my sketchbook pages, and sometimes with a few of the words):

I don't mean to suggest that I loved you the best
I can't keep track of each fallen robin

Honesty is a strange and delicate thing.

New York & an early spring.

I've been trying to write this post since Sunday. Life has been very go go go, and I feel like I haven't stopped moving in weeks. Last week alone was both amazing and difficult. Monday was the anniversary of my step dad's passing, Wednesday I was tattooed late into the night, Friday I was off to NYC, and the time in between was full of work/chores/plans/life/etc.

I keep wanting to talk about New York, but there are no words good enough. It was exactly what I needed. Seeing Sophie and Iain was the best possible thing at the best possible time. It was a lot of exploring, a lot of conversation, book-talk, girl-time, hugs, green tea ice cream, a strange party in Williamsburg, and feeling both out of my element and right at home all at the same time. I came home Sunday night, jumped right back into work Monday, and while I've had some time this afternoon to enjoy the weather and try to relax, my brain is busy and this evening I have an art date and important-secret-plan-meeting.

The above photos:
1. Getting tattooed by Molly.

2. Iain, the very edge of Sophie, and a cat we met in Chinatown.

3. Where we sat and ate ice cream shortly before walking across the Manhattan bridge.

4. What was at the time a smaller OWS protest in Union Sq. If you've been following at all, you know that earlier this week there was hundreds of people there (I think maybe there still are).

5. Yesterday, tights for the first time this spring, boots folded down. This was at north station. As an aside, someone was selling daffodils there in the morning, and I was disappointed that I couldn't buy some, as I'd have to take them to work with me.

6. I need to spend a moment on this, because this book is far more beautiful than I expected. I knew it was going to be great, because I'm pretty familiar with what Iain and Jon (the photographer) do, but the book itself was.. being pushed into a cold pool? Being punched in the gut? Like someone took a big spoon and stirred up my insides? It did something, that's for sure. I knew it was special the moment I held it in my hands, because even the cover feels unique and soft and homey, but I didn't let myself read any of it until I was back on the bus for the long ride home. I was drawn right in, but ended up having to put it down because I was overwhelmed with the amount of emotion in it, and the memories it was bringing afloat. You should consider giving it a look. Iain's also doing one last reading tonight in NY, 6pm, the band shell in Prospect Park.

7 & 8. Pineapple and I on the porch today, basking in the warmth and listening to birds.

9. Brooklyn flea market finds.

10. Last night's commute home.


I'm going to try really hard to post some art soon. All I've been managing lately is pencil sketches, flash practice, and line sheets. Bad, bad, I know.

The light in the room on, the light in the room off.

Lately, I feel like my life should probably be titled Studies in the Pursuit of Happiness.

Sketchbook Project, collaborations (3!), New York, work, family, adventures, reconnections, epiphanies.. I'm trying very hard to take it all in with grace and not become overwhelmed. Fortunately, most of the previous can be categorized under Good Things. And it's so nice out today, I had my windows open.

I'm rather surprised that my 100 poems in 2012 project is going well. I was worried earlier in February, but so far I've beaten the January count by one, and there's still a few days left to the month! Of course, not all of them are good, but that's okay. It will be fun to go back and edit a bunch later. Current count for the year: 21.

Weekend.

Last week's birthday? One of the best of my life. The week took a lot out of me overall, a lot of things happened, the biggest of which I can't talk about here. The things that I can mention include a 24 hour stomach bug, my first Celtics game, an old friend, lots of familiar faces, love, hugs, and not very much sleep.

Now I'm having a very quiet Sunday evening, practicing drawing things that I am not very good at.




Oh yeah, and this is happening too!

Hello, new decade.

Good news everyone! 30 doesn't feel much different than 29! A lot of warmth is coming my way today, and I've been writing this post since earlier in the week. I don't give much of a crap about birthdays, but 30 is a big deal to me, because for the majority of my life I was absolutely convinced that I wouldn't make it this far (let's just say that for a very long time, I hated myself very, very much). I wanted to share some thoughts with you, things that I've figured out along the way, things that I wish I had known years ago. Maybe in another 30 years I'll want to edit all of this, or just add a lot more on to it. I hope that something in the next paragraphs helps someone, but I am also posting this as a reminder to myself.



I'm not sure where to start, so I'll just jump right in.

I'm convinced that developing a relationship with forgiveness is one of the keys to happiness. Forgiving doesn't have to mean forgetting, but if you can forgive the people and things that have happened to you, you'll feel a lot lighter for it. And if you can't? That's okay too. But try to let it go. Say, I can not forgive this/you, and then keep going. Leave the forgiveness part to the universe. It's okay, you're human.

In fact, if you find that you're being too hard on yourself, remember that too. It's okay, you are human.

The cliche, "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" is true, although almost always frustrating to hear when you're standing in the middle of shit and feeling like the life has been sucked out of you. Try to eliminate thoughts like This isn't fair, or I don't deserve this. Because it's not about that. It's about doing the best you can with what you are given.

When you find the thing that makes you happy (and I don't mean a person, here), fight to keep it -- even if it's a city away from your friends, a job that your parents don't approve of, or a hobby that you are almost too busy for.

And as for the person that makes you happy? Remember that relationships and friendships are a constant learning and growing experience, that will sometimes be difficult (see also: forgiveness). Don't forget to tend and cultivate them with care, and if the day comes where you need to fight for a person, then do it, but if they still insist on walking away, then the best thing that you can do for yourself is to let them go and be at peace knowing that you did everything that you could.

Taking a person for granted can be one of the most sad, devastating, and damaging mistakes, and you will do this to someone, and it will be done to you. Again: forgiveness.

You are responsible for your own happiness, and should never rely on another person to provide happiness for you. Create a life that you are in love with, be in love with yourself, and fill it with those worth sharing it all with, who magnify all of the goodness that you already have.

You make your own family. Go with your gut. Stand up for yourself and what you believe in. Be kind, especially when it's hard. Don't tolerate anyone who makes you feel small. Don't ever let anyone make you believe that you're not magnificent.

And LIVE. Kiss that stranger, take on that project, make goals, make mistakes, appreciate as much as you can, say you're sorry, be honest, be patient. Things will be okay, things will work out. Even if it takes a little while, even if it's the last thing that you're capable of believing in at the time.

If you read all of that, you are a champion. And because it is my birthday, and because I love and appreciate you, here is a high-res scan of "Rescue" for you to download and print. Share all you'd like (but please don't use the image for profit, okay?). Just click and save.♥

Distance and time.

All drawing and writing is coming and going in waves these last days. Here is a little bit of the first pages in my limited edition Sketchbook Project. The theme is distance and time, hence the post title, but I approach themes VERY loosely no matter what they are. Which may or may not be cheating.




Next week I turn the big three-zero, which is something I've been a little terrified about since I turned 29. Many, many people say that your thirties are the best decade of your life, and I hope they're right. I have some fun plans in the works for the day, including good people, a Celtics game (technically the night before my birthday, but it will be my first!), a bit of reflection, pretty dresses, downtown Boston, and hopefully some mild shenanigans and delicious beer.

Related to the latter: I'm enjoying trying new kinds of brews in the last couple of months. Not as impressively as Courtney's Febrewary experiment, but it's making me extend beyond my stout-comfort zone in a most delicious way.

The cutoff.

It was bound to happen. I was running on such heavy emotion for about two solid months, drawing and writing every day, pouring as much of it out as I could.

I hit a wall.

It's all right. Except for the part where my Sketchbook Project needs to be postmarked by the 31st and I haven't gotten far past the mid-point (somehow, I'm not feeling discouraged). I've done a lot this month, dragging myself through the mud, while maintaining my life and projects. I'm not going to beat myself up for feeling utterly drained the last few days. I'm actually doing a good job of not beating myself up at all lately. Turns out it's fairly simple, and the trick is to keep telling yourself, I am a human being and I am doing the best that I can.




From the top left:
1. Pineapple on top of my sketchbook while I'm trying to draw.
2. View from the train on my commute to work.
3. The first real snowfall of the year, as I was walking home.
4. Christmas eve tattoo. I don't think I've posted this here yet. One more session to go, for the color.

January 1st.

Out of sequence.

Memory.

Sometimes I miss New Hampshire. It always sneaks up on me. I will be away from the city and the trees will smell familiar. I will be walking someplace and hear the call of a mourning dove. Or sometimes, like tonight, I will read the words New Hampshire and be flooded with a warm feeling that is something like nostalgia, something like homesickness, but neither.



The New Hampshire that makes me the pleasant sort of sick to my stomach, is not one that I've shared with many people. I have experienced it with my sister in our youth, when playing in the woods, then later as teenagers, driving home late at night and jumping into Lake Winnepesaukee on hot days with our clothes on because we weren't wearing bathing suits and there were people everywhere. I shared this New Hampshire with my neighbors, who knew it well. Then as an adult, with a friend as we wandered through corn fields, and later, with a boyfriend who waited with me patiently for sunset on Halls Hill, because I told him the sky there was unlike any other place (and I meant it, and it was worth it).



This all started a few days ago, when I was eating a piece of strawberry rhubarb pie, and it made me miss my grandparents, and peach trees, and picking blackberries, and smelling lilacs through my bedroom window.

My relationship with the state is complicated. But I wouldn't have the same fondness for nature had I not lived there. I remember the first time I ever saw a deer, a barn owl, a pack of coyotes, a hummingbird moth. It's why I love and can identify small birds. There was a whole lot of beautiful things in there, and when I get all wistful and daydream about hiding away in a cabin for a week in the north, this is exactly why.



The above photos: by me, years ago, and all I really have, despite the time I had there. They are simple, but I cherish them.

A not-so year in review.

I understand why people do the year in review thing. It's a good way to metaphorically close one chapter, and prepare yourself a clean slate to begin outlining the next. But I can't do that this year. It's not as if nothing good happened to me. My summer was amazing. My new job, new apartment, moving to Somerville -- these things are huge, and I am eternally grateful for them.

But. 2011 was a struggle. Things began to fracture, and ultimately fell apart. Someone that I cared about very much died unexpectedly in February, which was the first time as an adult (fortunately) that I had to deal with death on a personal level. The usual ups and downs that come with each year are relatively unimportant. Then there is the last six weeks, which have been what I will not-so-fondly describe as total hell, on a daily basis. And that much emotional turmoil is exhausting.

So I am sorry that I can't look at the closing of the year with joy. I am looking forward to what's to come, don't get me wrong. But I can not wait to leave all of this behind me.

I'll end this post with a little bit of positivity:


Brian Andreas

What comes after the blues.

Sometimes I forget. Never for very long. But still, sometimes.

Happy holidays, friends. There are plenty of warm thoughts to be given. Mine are going to you.♥

Concerning time (in which I talk and share photos).

Truth be told, I've never been very good at updating this blog. Talking about myself and the things I create makes me a little uncomfortable. It's much easier for me to just make things and snap a picture and upload it wherever. But it's more than that too. I only started drawing regularly again in September. Before that, I was working six days a week at a job that didn't make me very happy, and that unhappiness spilled over into every other aspect of my life. I allowed for all of this to last a long time. I allowed my creativity to take the backseat to my job and my relationships for a year and a half.

My life now is incredibly different compared to.. well, anything it's ever been, really. I left my job in August and started working at a tattoo shop. (Let's pause for a moment: Upon hearing that, everyone asks me if I'm tattooing. No, I'm not. But I hope to earn my way to that point.) My job is wonderful. Sometimes it's hard, sometimes it's frustrating. But it is an amazing thing to be around artists all day -- and not just artists, but good and inspiring ones. I am learning a lot from everyone there, and I'm very grateful for that. My commute is long, sometimes two hours. I have little time for anything outside of work and the commute itself on my work days. But somehow, that's okay. It doesn't make me feel drained. At the end of the day, I get home and I'm still excited about getting things down on paper.




Leaving my old job meant being able to leave the awful north shore town I lived in. I miraculously found a lovely apartment with a kind roommate (and a large cat), in Somerville, MA. It's a great neighborhood, a great space. Thing is, when life changes, it usually changes in a big way. I don't know if it's this way for everyone, but usually when several good things happen to me, something bad and difficult usually occurs as well, and last month I lost someone very important to me. I won't talk about it here, even though I want to. I want to talk about it all the time, as if speaking about it will somehow pull the pain out (although we all know it doesn't work that way). I am still struggling with the empty space, each day, and it is proving to be one of the harder things I've fought against in a long time. Even writing this seems to be exhausting, but if I were to talk about life here and not mention it, it would be very dishonest, because whether I like it or not, this change will be something that continues to shape me. And probably my art too, as I am throwing myself into it further as a result.

And so it goes. I am working on two Sketchbook Projects. The 2012 and the Limited Edition. I'm dreaming up ideas for new projects, planning collaborations. I'm finding new things to pour my heart into. If you've read all of this, you are a champion. I will leave the rest of this post in pictures.

On life:



On loss:



Sketchbook Project:


I will do my best to share more, very soon (especially because there isn't even a finished piece in this post and I haven't scanned anything in a while - yikes). ♥