...I lay in bed ignoring that the half-hours are melting by, and I know I should peel my body out of bed and make things. I attempt to focus hard on my bowl of cereal so as to not continue to hunt and nibble on various things in my kitchen. I reluctantly attach myself to the elliptical machine I bought for myself so I would never have to go to the gym ever again, a machine that I will be paying off for another 4 years of my life. After I hop dizzily off the machine, and come to the dazzling realization that I have completed my 30-minute torture session for the day, I take a boiling hot shower, where I finally begin to feel like myself, and I am finally ready for my day.
My "studio" is 1.5 miles from my apartment. I have a large solid kitchen table from the 1950's that I so proudly attached all four legs to with an electric screw driver. I have my trusty little butane torch, goggles that I only put on if my family pokes there head in see if I am being safe, and I have enough beads to open my own store. My studio began as a little TV table in my living room. I have a one bedroom apartment, a small one. If you are a crafter, you know that even the largest space can become small in just a matter of time, with enough trips to the bead store, scrapbook store, hell- any store. My studio quickly migrated from my little TV table, to my entire kitchen table, forcing me and my boyfriend to eat our dinners quietly sitting on the floor in the living room. When I finally decided to take back my apartment and turn it into a real livable space again, I decided to move my workspace to a place where you can (usually) always go back to: home. Mom and dads. My old bedroom. My mother covered the room in a black and white toile pattern, but it still feels like my old room.
So, I see my parents just about every day. And I enjoy seeing them, so I go frequently, which means completing projects rather than ignoring them because you resent the fact that they have taken over your home. Now they take over my former bedroom.
I am about to start my very first full time job, salary, 401K, all that wonderful stuff that makes me feel like a grown up. I have this horrible fear that my new job will take over and I will have no time to make things, the things that make me feel fulfilled, healthy, full, whole. The things that keep me from raiding the kitchen when I'm not hungry. The things that help me sleep at night and get up in the morning. Tell me that I will not throw away my passion and become a 7-4pm drone who forgets to work out, eat right, and make the art she was put on this earth to create.
In a perfect world I would get up at 5:30 am, workout for 30 minutes, shower and look fabulous by 7am, and be at work by 7:30. I would have a fulfilling and productive day at work, I would come home by 5pm, and make a nutritious dinner, maybe even enough to share with my dear boyfriend. I would then go to my studio and make jewelry until 8 or 9pm, be in bed by 9:30 or 10pm, and do it all again the following morning.
Well, we will just have to see what happens, I have great faith in myself, but I also know that I love to sleep in, pass out after work and eat out of containers standing up before going to bed far too late for my own good.
I'm going to stay positive.
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