Studio Journal #5

A weekly ramble about island life

The day started with a heated conversation and the realisation I had bought a rather large quantity of cat food rather than dog food. Same packaging different pictures, who looks at pictures, the big yellow bag is all the visual information needed. The dog is now giving us the stink eye that we’ve been feeding her poison apparently. These days I feel I drop the ball constantly and the once sharp mind that kept those balls juggling echoes with a dull clank and the fog seeps in.

There’s a definite temperature drop in my morning space that has triggered manic knitting of the blanket project. A promise to use up the stash and not stop until its done. There is a unbearable pull to start yet another something but my resolve is strong. Finish this blanket first before disguarding it in a heap and cracking on with another. It will be a most satisfying moment when I can cross it off in my green book of lists.

Lists for the day, lists for the week, rolling to do lists, some things on the list have even been crossed through, finished, completed. A moment of brief elation followed by a crashing realisation of the looming list of many other tasks. Sometimes I write a completed task on the list just so that I can immediately cross it off. Anything to boost the dopamine.

I might make scones. Or maybe I should tidy the pantry. Where did I put that backdrop tripod. Just knit. I’ll just make tea. Biscuit tea or breakfast tea. No milk, out to the pantry. Is there really no kitten food left, sort out boxes, spend half an hour looking at my seaweed creations, come in. Forgot the milk.

It’s beyond me how I ever manage to get anything done. So many decisions, commitments, lists to do. I ponder, think about a statement I read about everyone jumping on the neurodiverse trend, why is everyone suddenly getting diagnosed especially the forgotten ones, the girls who struggled inside there heads whilst presenting a certain amount of togetherness to the world. Well we’ve always been here, we’ve managed, how dare we ask for help.

I haven’t been “professionally, officially, medically” diagnosed why would I need to. I’ve lived inside my head for 52 years. I’m just better informed these days, I can’t undo my experiences but there is an understanding to why I do what I do, I don’t need or want to be fixed or medicated or get any extra support but there are many folk who do. I don’t want to take up space in the queue. But it angers and dismays me that by making these comments there are those that want to make things harder for others by implying its a trend to become part of.

Any way back to my original point, these are just my thoughts, just my opinions, formed from a life spent living with a brain that works differently maybe people with neurodiverse brains are struggling because our world has become full of infinite choice.

There was a time when my choice was limited. In the simple act of a morning drink. Tea, milk or water maybe orange juice for a birthday treat or part of a Christmas frenzy of ripping paper and gasps of delight.

These mornings the choice is ridiculous. We are force fed constant information about the newest, coolest, healthiest, tastiest drink, or one that will fix all your broken aching body bits, or one that will save the plant, hundreds of choices of milk alone no wonder our fractured minds are struggling. Then there’s the coffee bean, dark, light, single estate made by girls, blended, espresso, french press blah blah blah. How sensible does a ritual of a particular cup of coffee, made in a certain way in a certain cup becomes. It is an anchor to the day that will be stacked full of choice.

I find choosing really hard, so often it leads to indecision and indecision leads to the dark side of doing absolutely nothing.

It’s a constant challenge. I am also aware at this point that the were no studio ramblings… so I’ve added a picture of some of my favourite brushes. Choosing which one to use, that’s a whole different rabbit hole so it’s usually just the same one time and time again whilst the many sit and watch, unused until the favourite is ruined.