A view of the Buddha Board

 I've finally been playing with my Buddha Board from Christmas. I've been feeling a bit groundless lately, and thought it would be appropriate since it's supposed to be an exercise in experiencing the temporary nature of being. Or something like that; I threw the box away, and that particular line was a bit of the text on the back.

 That series of photos took place over less than five minutes. Or, if you've been following my blog, less than three weeks.

The only plans I've held to have been some knitting ones. I finished my hooded cowl (yay me!), started on my obligation scarf (yay, ish) and started new sketches of my proposed sweater (yay, if I can make it work.) Considering how I've been feeling of late, I consider this to be a major win.

In the same amount of time, I've also considered: finding a part time, temporary (in my view) office job so I can get into my more risky writing ventures with less worry, writing a non-fiction book about resurrectionists in the United States, and running away to the west and living off my wits. At the moment, running away is winning by a slim margin, although the lack of stable access to hot running water is making it less of a likely winner.

I knew when I got into it that changing my life was going to be difficult, unlikely to pay handsomely off the bat and aggravating, I just didn't really think about what that would feel like up close. As a former office drone, the uncertainty is uncomfortable in the extreme--I'm accustomed to knowing my place, keeping to it and staying out of trouble--but not, I'm thinking, as uncomfortable as being an office drone. In the final balance, I'm sure I'll make it through, if only because I'm too bloody-minded to give up. I've told people I'm going to do this; now it's a matter of pride.

It's been years since I last sketched or doodled, and I'm sure you see why. I have no talent for art. Still, I do enjoy it. I should dabble a bit more often, just for mental hygiene purposes.