Waterlogged {intro}

When I was a child I would spend hours under water. I lived isolated from most other children so I would run wild through the forest to what I called the wishing well. It was a small spring in the back of my childhood home. I played a game with myself in that spring by holding my breath and going under water. I’d think of all my dreams and wishes and wait until I couldn’t breath any longer and then count till ten until I finally came up for air. As a child, I truly believed this action was the key to all my happiness.  Little did I know that it caused slight brain damage to my temporal cortex causing memory loss and distortion. As I’ve grown into adulthood I’ve developed systems to help hold onto life’s high and low points as they pass by me.

I collect things. I pick up pieces, remnants, and tokens of all my experiences. My pockets are always full. It’s as if my memory is a sieve and it’s always so tragic for my personal history when my pockets break into holes. I can never remember to mend the rips and tears until I’m out on my next adventure. If I were smart, I would be selective on which memory tokens I put in which pocket. Maybe subconsciously I do. Sometimes life is difficult to understand. Those things that happen can be so confusing for a girl who has no recollection of her past. Memory loss during my formative years equates to the formative years of Christianity when those who didn’t understand the new attitudes would whitewash beautiful frescos and burn Christian Icons. The same goes for me. When I am confused by the actions of others, my emotions shut down and I become more selective on which tokens I choose to bring home, pack away, and catalogue in my personal historical archive. 

During my teenage years, my father gave me a camera. The first rule about the camera was to put the strap around my neck. The next rule was to go explore. This machine was the perfect tool for me and my damaged brain to archive my life as it passed by. Now I sit in my little home with shelves built to the ceiling on almost every wall filled with boxes of trinkets, ticket stubs, photos, buttons, cards, notes, rocks, and anything that can trigger the slightest feeling of time and place all shuffled and mixed up.

Sometimes I can’t sleep. The dark void in my head gets frightening. It feels like death when I can’t remember how I got to where I am or where I am going. It’s nights like these that I have to turn on the light and start rummaging through the boxes of token triggers. The only problem is that the boxes get shuffled on the shelves along with the contents inside. Memories of my early childhood may be stacked next to photos from my college years, but it’s all right because it’s all me, my life. All these things have shaped who I am today. Even if I don’t remember my identity the clearest, I use how others respond to me as context clues on my character and attitude.

On the walls not filled with shelves of boxes I display all the things I love. I try to keep the negative out. There is no sense in holding onto things that make me upset. It is a special gift to have a damage memory. Erasing the bad is so easy for a girl like me. Brain damage can be a positive experience once you can take control of your situation and shape it to your advantage.

Creative Ways to Deal with Loss

Every heartache, big or small, is another opportunity for serious self-improvement. When dramatic changes occur I begin to think of personal goals I wish to achieve and start laying the groundwork to achieve them. Large dreams need to be broken down into smaller, do-able pieces. Patience and determination is key.

I try to form new habits by creating daily, weekly, monthly, and quarterly activities. High emotions can lead to a confusing mess of nervous energy. It is good to point that energy into a project that will help you become closer to the person who you always wanted to be.

Build something. Take a bunch of little pieces of something and create something large. I’m reminded of how good it felt to cut all my old denim jeans into little pieces and create such a heavy blanket. Go to the museum and break down what you see into the little parts that create something you find awe-inspiring. These are good ways to visualize the parts and steps you must take to make your own life awe-inspiring.

Create for the sake of creation. It can feel so good to simply dive right into something and watch the outcome pour out of your hands. Taking control in a creative process shapes your control over your own life. The way you shape and mold an object in your hands can lead to the knowledge of how you can shape and mold your own self.

Learn from your successes and failures and keep creating your own way.

Do Something Useful

I’ve spent a lot of time with my Grandfather throughout my life. He passed away last week at the age of 92, although he was as healthy and independent as a 60-year-old still driving cross-country by himself. After my Grandmother passed he would spend his summers living with my mom. A few summers ago I also moved back home with my mom to refigure out my life.

We were roommates. I would spend my time in the room next to him making and creating whatever oddities excited me while he would watch baseball on the “Boob Tube,” which were the best seats to watch the game. After the game he would shuffle his way to bed, but always stop to see what I was making. One night I was making a bunch of hand knit cupcake toys. He picked it up and was completely perplexed as to what it did. I believe he said something like, “What do you do with it? What is the point? It can’t keep you warm? Why don’t you make something useful?” He threw his hands up in the air and went to bed.

I go through fits of creative mania where I have to make something large, be it a quilt in a week or a hundred multiples of little things. It serves as therapy in way, to take that energy, put it to use and have something to show for it. The day he died, I decided I had to make 100 paper hearts with wild flower seeds embedded inside to keep his memory alive. Somehow it blended the worlds of a quirky oddity and something useful.

The Four Legged Adventure Bot!

This living, breathing, heart pumping, wide eyed, little lady can save you from the mistake of locking yourself indoors with all your fancy gadgets waiting the winter winds away. It’s the way she plops down on the floor and doesn’t hide that stagnate bored expression you may feel inside your own head.  When the walls that keep the icy winds away from your skin begin to make you claustrophobic, bundle up in your artificial winter fur and see what you and your Four Legged Adventure Bot can discover!

That crisp contrast between the pure bright white snow and the deep blue ski that gradients down into a light birds egg blue with a hint of green as it reaches the horizon on a cloudless sunny day after a big snow storm is one of the honest joys that the winter season brings. The quietness that surrounds the landscape makes every bird chirp sing out as that perfect solo note. So much life still exists as a blanket of icy jewels dazzle the tips of tree branches and the land is protected by a layer of glassy ice. The air is crisp, clean and refreshing.

At times my glasses would fog up from breathing in my scarf and the world looked as a dreamscape sequence out of a movie.  Sophie, my furry tour guide, blended into the dream with her curly off-white coat and sparkly nose from sniffing out adventure in this snow-covered world. In the minds eye, wandering through landscapes can turn into something as magical, if not more, as the motion pictures.  

Frozen Cheeks

Seasonal depression always seems to sneak up on me the week of Thanksgiving. It is the start of the cold days and dark nights. The initial hit of what the next four to five months will be like always seems unbearable until a proactive system is developed to avoid the depression.

Silly as it may be, this year I plan on investing my energies into knitting the most beautiful afghan to use as a picnic and beach blanket for next summer. Most women my age would never dare let something like a hand knit blanket touch the dirt or sand. It is the act of creating it for the sole purpose of soaking in the sunshine and getting stained with grass that will save me from the sad, lonely winter months.

As I knit my mind will wander to all the places this blanket will travel when the world outside defrosts. Carefully chosen shades of greens and blues will counteract the overcasts skies and gray ice covered lake.

I went on a walk with my male companion in the cold sunshine today. The park trail was strangely quiet compared to when we would walk the path in the warmer months. The muffled silence was broken by large crackling noises. We looked down the hill towards the river to discover that the water changing to ice created the disruption of our quiet walk.

His personality seemed to be freezing over much like the river over the past couple weeks.  Seasonal depression affects a lot of people and it’s no wonder why there is a bar on every corner and one in the middle of the block here in Milwaukee. With frozen cheeks and a hint sadness he would look and me and smile. My heart was warmed because a smile like his can’t be forced under these icy conditions and I noticed he didn’t have a scarf as I watched a chill take over his body and shake out through his face.   

Rock Collecting

[I spend so much time in front of the computer working on things that I need to take breaks outside, going for walks, breathing fresh air, clearing my head. Usually on my walks my mind is working through problems, trying to develop solutions, and planning the best use of my time. I am learning/trying to take days off and finding time to relax. Today I went for a walk for the Sunday Joy of going for a walk.]

It was cloudy, foggy and overcast with winter on it's way, but I didn't care. I wanted to walk down by the lake. The temperature was pleasantly warm despite the deceptive view from my inside my home. I like this time of year, that in between time, when the weather keeps the crowds locked away inside bars or at home watching football, but a handful of people still find the time to enjoy the last bit of tolerable weather. The smiles of passerby's seem much more sincere this time of year.


I started noticing the landscape more and began making pictures inside my head. Regretfully, I don't go on photo walks like I did in my youth, but my mind still frames and makes pictures. I never noticed these reed-like plants. They were still so green and full of life and everywhere. I wonder what kind of properties they have when they dry and what purpose they could have after the winter winds bring them to their seasonal death.


A path in between the reeds leads me down to the water. Walking along the shore staring at the ground, I spot the most perfect rock. It is the smoothest rock I have ever picked up and completely flat. An overwhelming sense of calm surrounds me and I rub my thumb over this circular rock and stare out at the muted blue lake meeting the out-of-focus overcast sky. I decide I will hold onto this rock until it is time to let it go.


I may make a step or two before I see another rock that calls to me. I pick it up and brush the sand clear revealing its true personality and history. 'Is this an arrowhead?'  My thumb presses against it's point. 'It's got to be, this sharp edge was purposefully created.' Even though there is slight pain, my thumb keeps pressing up against the point of this arrowhead and my mind contemplates disagreements, war, survival, and history.


I continue walking along the beach, staring at the debris in the sand with the calm, flat, smooth rock in one hand and sharp arrowhead in the other hand thinking about the extremes of duality. About to turn around from my introspective exploration along the shore, I spot a white piece of sea glass, one of my favorite rock collecting finds. I take another step back towards the concrete path when I see another piece of green sea glass. I begin walking around in a circle and find a handful of sea glass pieces in a heavy concentration.     


Sea glass has always been a sense of wonder for me. Walking back home with my pocket full of these broken pieces of glass worn smooth by the passage of time, wind, sand and water I think of my own memory. Memories once so sharp and clear become worn around the edges over time.

Day Dream Reality

2010 has been a year full of fulfilling day dreams I've had over the years.  If I ever seem unfocused, it's because I want to do everything and I am not letting anything or anyone get in the way of me accomplishing these dreams.  My 2011 goal is to fine tune all my living daydreams for the best chance of success.

One of my dreams I had when I was in college was to have my own greeting card business.  I made a few false starts while juggling school, interpersonal relationships, and my deli job at Koppa's.  I'm older, smarter and more confident now so I'm starting again.  My goal is to produce a line of cards every quarter.

These guys were originally designed for the 2010 Performance Arts Showcase at MIAD.  I altered them a little to make them more accessible to the general public.  My cards for the Performance Art Showcase had a specific song and artist on the outside and had a personal story written inside.  They were a total hit at the Showcase and I sold or traded them all away fast.

I will be working on distributing these cards this upcoming week.  Contact me if you are interested or know anyone who is.