Demon Management
I've got this 
screwballheroine essay rattling around, and I want to write it and I ought to write it, but honestly right now I just want to take a nap. There was a chance I'd have an all-day shift at Shop today, but that doesn't seem to be happening, so, hurrah for unexpected free day! However, now I want to be sure I don't waste my time. I've got job postings open in several tabs, including one that's due on Friday (after another reprieve, in which the coordinators were mistakenly advertising that applications closed on the 17th). It's a lovely day out; I've already taken one walk and feel like it would be good to get out of my apartment while it's sunny, but again: nap or no nap? (The getting out again would seem to fix that problem, but... but...)
Yesterday I attended this wonderful workshop about cultivating a time, a space and a set of rituals to get you writing, even with a full-time job. It was really wonderful and helpful, even for managing more generalized anxiety. One thing Heather, the instructor, pointed out was that everyone's demons are the same, and they're boring. ("The voice of reason is an asshole.") They all say the same thing to everybody, and they're also not going away. So how do you respond? "Oh, you." Also: "Ask them what they need; it's usually snacks." Heather presented this idea of imagining a welcoming queen benevolently ruling your interior landscape. Whenever these demons demand time or distraction, you smile and say, "Thank you so much for your suggestions. The queen will see you at noon." It's a way of giving yourself adult supervision when you want most to be playing and exploring art and imagination like a kid.
She also had the best way of framing "protecting your inner child" I've ever heard, in that it felt loving rather than (ugh) precious. As the queen, again: "Protect her! She's practicing. My beautiful child." Heather has this smiley, enthusiastic, patient yoga-teacher vibe and she's not afraid to get a little kooky and a little dirty. She's also face-blind, and I'm really interested in her memoir about that (and how it's affected her approach to writing, which she talked to us about). Anyone who's a strong believer in Lynda Barry's pedagogy already has me, but she was an excellent teacher and I'm really glad I had the opportunity to learn from her. Also, the Catapult offices are exactly the kind of working/communal space I'd love to be in all the time. I definitely would love to keep taking classes with them.
"The slowest way is the fastest way." I will keep everyone posted on how that works out. <3
This was originally posted on Dreamwidth, where it has
comments. I would love to hear from you at DW! If you can see this post, you can comment here using OpenID. Thanks!
screwballheroine essay rattling around, and I want to write it and I ought to write it, but honestly right now I just want to take a nap. There was a chance I'd have an all-day shift at Shop today, but that doesn't seem to be happening, so, hurrah for unexpected free day! However, now I want to be sure I don't waste my time. I've got job postings open in several tabs, including one that's due on Friday (after another reprieve, in which the coordinators were mistakenly advertising that applications closed on the 17th). It's a lovely day out; I've already taken one walk and feel like it would be good to get out of my apartment while it's sunny, but again: nap or no nap? (The getting out again would seem to fix that problem, but... but...)
Yesterday I attended this wonderful workshop about cultivating a time, a space and a set of rituals to get you writing, even with a full-time job. It was really wonderful and helpful, even for managing more generalized anxiety. One thing Heather, the instructor, pointed out was that everyone's demons are the same, and they're boring. ("The voice of reason is an asshole.") They all say the same thing to everybody, and they're also not going away. So how do you respond? "Oh, you." Also: "Ask them what they need; it's usually snacks." Heather presented this idea of imagining a welcoming queen benevolently ruling your interior landscape. Whenever these demons demand time or distraction, you smile and say, "Thank you so much for your suggestions. The queen will see you at noon." It's a way of giving yourself adult supervision when you want most to be playing and exploring art and imagination like a kid.
She also had the best way of framing "protecting your inner child" I've ever heard, in that it felt loving rather than (ugh) precious. As the queen, again: "Protect her! She's practicing. My beautiful child." Heather has this smiley, enthusiastic, patient yoga-teacher vibe and she's not afraid to get a little kooky and a little dirty. She's also face-blind, and I'm really interested in her memoir about that (and how it's affected her approach to writing, which she talked to us about). Anyone who's a strong believer in Lynda Barry's pedagogy already has me, but she was an excellent teacher and I'm really glad I had the opportunity to learn from her. Also, the Catapult offices are exactly the kind of working/communal space I'd love to be in all the time. I definitely would love to keep taking classes with them.
"The slowest way is the fastest way." I will keep everyone posted on how that works out. <3
This was originally posted on Dreamwidth, where it has
comments. I would love to hear from you at DW! If you can see this post, you can comment here using OpenID. Thanks!