A Rainy Saturday Morning

My sis and I went to the artwalk last night and had dinner in town. It was lovely, though the artwalk was somewhat subdued. Not as many vendors, or people. I suppose part of that was because it’s right after the holidays, so people weren’t doing Christmas shopping. And because the forecast was for rain, which we sorely need. It started raining after we had dinner and met up with one of my friends. So we came back to my house, and hung out for awhile.

It’s still raining this morning. Rain, and t-storms, and though it was 70 when I got up, it is going to drop into the 50s today. We haven’t had rain in over 2 months, it is so welcome. It almost seems weird! Get so used to sunshine every day!

Last night I got a message from Tommy, the one who won’t make plans. Except that he was making them. He says he’s going to call me this weekend, today I think. And then we’ll make plans to get together. I am very excited about it. He’s the first man who has really sparked me. He seems equally sparked.­ I am a little worried because the firefighter, Tim is also supposed to call me Sunday. If it goes with Tommy the way I kind of think it will, I won’t want to see Tim….even though I really like him. I’m a one-man kind of woman.

It will be nice to get the show on or off the road with Tommy. It’s weird how my pendulums said we would not meet this week but will by the end of next. It seems that’s true.

My sis and I want to go down to the art district in St. Pete before she leaves. Then we may go to a little Italian market I know she’d love. We might run up to Home Depot or Lowes, because I need to get something to put up in my guest room for people to hang their clothes on. She’s so funny, she gets here, and within minutes is coming up with ideas of things I need, and what might make this or that work better. I love her for it, she has such an artists view.

We were talking last night over dinner about what a perfect place this little town is for me. How it’s so exotic, artsy, so many good galleries, restaurants, and it’s such a small town, and no one even knows it’s here. It’s exactly the community that I need to be in. I saw the keyboard player at his booth selling his paintings last night. He gave me a big hug, and then told me he’s playing on Sunday at that same restaurant. I do like him…but really, I need to see where this is going with Tom. He’s really so far ahead of any of the other men I have talked to as far as an overall attraction. Anyway, I probably won’t go to the restaurant this weekend and see G play. Just would be too much like playing someone.

Something I’ve noticed about myself is that I’ve become much more measured in what I tell a man about myself. While my heart will always be on my sleeve, I am only slowly telling my story. One thing I like about Tom is that he seems to do the same, but also can put his heart on his sleeve. Last night he asked me to google Stay a Little Longer by the Brothers Osborne, because it reminded him of me. And what it did, for me, was to let me know he’s in about the same place as me. I can’t tell you how nice it is to do this with no head games going on.

I love too, that he would love to go to open mic with me, and actually perform there.

Well that’s it for a rainy Saturday morning. Lots of good things happening. Amazing how it all comes together when you get the toxic stuff out of your life.

Love and light.

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Behind the Screen (SoCS)

the-screen

A screen,
Like a veil
To rest behind.
A partition that allowed
Thoughts to fly,
Or swim
And be transferred
To paper,
To words,
To a canvas,
To art.

A screen
A veil between
The artist and the world
To be pulled back at completion
Of the work.

A screen in his mind
That kept other people out
And kept him safe.
Or was it simply keeping him solitary?

If no one is allowed
Behind the screen
Then no one really knows who he is.
He can be someone different
For every face he meets.

But he also will never find
the place where he belongs.
The arms he longs for
Will never hold him tight
Because they won’t know him
Fully.

He met someone, once
Who saw him,
Who saw through the screen
Easily, on first glance.

It terrified him.
He wove the screen tighter
And tighter,
And made up stories
that kept him safe
So he thought.

She could see through it still.
Always.
Knowing his terror
She left him alone.

Hoping one day
He’d come out
From behind the screen
And embrace himself

Like the artist
Showing his completed work,
Risking vulnerability,
She hoped he too
Would risk letting himself be seen
Fully
Speaking the truth
To everyone
About who he is
What he wants,
What he believes.

Instead of hiding behind the screen
And morphing into someone different
For everyone he meets.

Screens have their place.
They keep the bugs out.
They conceal what we are not ready
To share with the world.

Just, don’t live there,
Behind the screen.

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The prompt for this weeks SoCS (Stream of Consciousness Saturday) was “screen”.   This is hosted by Linda G. Hill.  For more information on this prompt please go to her website, https://lindaghill.com/2016/10/14/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-1516/

Stream of Consciousness Saturday: Art

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This is a Stream of Consciousness Saturday post.  The writing prompt this week is “Art”.  for more information on this fun writing prompt, see https://lindaghill.com/2016/07/29/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-july-3016/.  Linda Hill has a great blog, and great ideas for writing prompts.  This is my second attempt at her SoCS.

ART

A picture was painted this morning
By the artist-at-large
In this world.

It is a sensory work of art,
the green of the leaves on the trees,
The blue of the sky
the scent of lavender,
the cool, almost imperceptible breeze,
rustling the leaves,
gently caressing my body.
The rich cup of coffee in front of me.
The sound of birds singing,
Neighbors dogs barking
And oddly the sound of cars on the road in the far distance.

I try to recreate the painting
With my words.
I try to make the reader feel it,
Because it seems too fabulous not to share.

I suppose that is what art is, to me.
The sharing of our emotions in such a way
As to evoke a similar response
Or a response at all,
From someone else.

I love art that makes me feel.
I love a book, or a post, or a movie, or a painting,
Or a piece of jewelry or pottery or a poem
That can make me cry, or laugh hysterically.

I want to feel.
Feeling lets me know I’m alive.
Art lets me know I’m alive,
When it makes me feel.
Inspires me to feel.

I hope that I also do that
In some small way
With my art.
With my writing,
Or my jewelry.
I hope it inspires people to feel.
Mostly to feel good.
To broaden their perspective,
To lift their gaze.

Or, just leaves someone a little happier for having run across it.
Art, is, it seems,
A wonderful way to extend love in this world.