Radio Show Recs to break away from the algorithm

Conjuring Up Art

​I wanted nothing more than to take a big fat nap when I got home from work. Why does daylight savings time exist? What about saving night time? That is when I feel more productive.
The reason I feel so tired could be the fact that I traveled last week
​ and came back with a soueviner of nasal allergies. 
Damn that mountain air.
Since I've been back home I've had two servings this week of Trader Joe's Thai Green Curry frozen meals.
My sinus have cleared a path like Moses.

I visited Palm Springs with my sister and friend Sarah. I much needed escape to somewhere sunny. 
They say it never rains in Souther California, but it managed to rain for a couple hours during our trip.
The trip was nothing more than alot of wandering. This is exactly what I needed, no plans, except for the advance ticket to ride the Aerial Tramway and a night at a Drag Show.

                                    Staring at a mountain while drinking my morning coffee was the type of zen I needed. No where to be. No plans.                                       And nothing to really report. Just alot of thinking about not thinking. P.S. I love you Palm Springs.

""I didn't have time to be anyone's muse, I was too busy rebelling against my family and learning to be an artist." -Leonora Carrington

What's wrong with being your own muse? 
Most famous muses have often been artists in their own right and usually have been outshined by their more famous lover/partner/collaborator. Does the name Yoko Ono ring any bells? She probably could be considered one of the most infamous muses of all time. Music history associates her as the muse who broke up one of the biggest bands in the world but we often don't think twice about her work as a performance artist. She was her own muse.

When I started out as an artist, I used myself as my own muse. I was teaching myself how to paint and using my own image to learn how to paint. Pure and simple.

It's easy to think that one who uses themselves as a source of inspiration could be considered as a self-centered individual. But I disagree. Yes there are plenty of narcissistic folks in this world who fall into the trap of self-obsession. I'm not talking about those                                                                                     people. 

​I'm inspired by artists and characters who have the confidence to say, "I've got something to share with the world and I'm going to use myself as the vessel." 

My new favorite miniseries is Daisy Jones a​nd the Six on Amazon.
​It follows fictional musicians in the sixties who are trying to make a name for themselves. 

My new favorite "anti-muse" is the character Daisy Jones played by Riley Keough. Without giving too much away, Daisy is inspired to take the helm for her career in music and lets men of entertainment industry know that she is NOT a source for THEIR inspiration. She's her own muse.
You tell 'em!

These inspiring women, real and fictional, gave me the green light to continue on my anti-muse path by being the influence for myself.

​It snowed about 8 inches this week. Luckily, I work for the education system and didn't have to go to work due to the weather. 
I fully embraced the day like a bohemian. Lounging with the flow of influence. Drinking coffee and journaling while listening to bands like the Dum Dum girls.  This music led me to read poetry by Arthur Rimbaud and read about female surrealist artists which then inspired me to spend the rest of the day painting.

​This week was Valentine's Day.
I am a hopeful romantic but I must say, I don't care for the holiday. Almost every social media post is a declaration for the love of a spouse, significant other or pet. Rightfully so!
Why are there so few posts declaring our love for ourselves? Is that too sappy for Valentine's Day? I mean, the love you save my be your own.

To truly enjoy one's own company is the greatest love of all. Spiritually, mentally, and physically, to be in love, you have to be happy that you exist in this world. Humans spend so much time searching and longing for acceptance that most often we don't accept our own beating hearts. Our hearts that fuel us to stay on the road of wanting and hoping.
What does the heart have to be lonely about when there are so many things to love?

This reminds me of the one-man Broadway show, Every Brilliant Thing. A story about a child who makes a list of his favorite things to help his mother as she struggles with mental illness. A tear jerker tale but worth watching.

Speaking of brilliant things, one of my favorite brilliant things is discovering a new song that is moving and sentimental. In consideration of the holiday, I re-watched the 1995 film, Before Sunrise.
​A reminder that in a disconnected and technological world we can still find connection amongst strangers in real life.  There's a scene in a record store where Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy's characters listen to the song, Come Here by Kath Bloom. The soundtrack is subtle but that particular tune that's getting some serious rotation on my playlist.

​I tend to overthink. So much that it wakes me up in the middle of the night. It could be hours before I feel sleepy again and I often debate whether it's worth going back to sleep. 
Counting sheep. Drinking a glass of warm milk. Yoga stretches before bed. Aromotherapy. CBD.
All the insominia remedies you can think of I've tried. 
The latest remedy I came across was to journal when you can't sleep.
I have pages and pages of journals filled. I do believe in the power of self-reflection and that gratitude can ease an overactive mind....just not a 2 am.
I thought an overthinking thought, what's the harm in trying?
I'm just lying here thinking about not sleeping.
These last few sleepless nights I gave it a whirl. I wrote and wrote and wrote with no signs of tired eyes.
My journal, nearly full.
Maybe now is a good time to start that novel?
Perhaps I should watch videos on YouTube of people solving math equations? I always struggled to stay awake in high school algebra class.
Besides looking forward to a good night's rest, I recently have been looking forward to Sunday evenings to watch the series, The Last of Us. My brother, a fan of the video game,  is very enthusiastic about the series.  I am not a fan of the films, books, or music            (besides the band White Zombie) themed around the apocalypse, gore, horror, zombies or any dead scary things. Something about this series has gotten ahold of me. Maybe it's the dialogue, the premise of the show or Pedro Pascal's voice? It remains a mystery. I guess in the end it's best to not judge a series by it's genre.

​While I enjoy the comfort of my own home, a fortune cookie tells me otherwise.
This past weekend I went to a couple of art shows, a dive bar for a birthday party and Sunday brunch with friends. Based off my previous plans, one would think I should be staying home more. As winter continues, I think it's good to get out of the house. I suppose all my weekly trips to Target and Trader Joe's probably doesn't count.  

I've been inspired to be inspired.
I recently saw a post about motivation and inspiration. (I post I did not keep to properly cite here) The post said something along the lines of "Motivation is a force and inspiration is effortless". 
Are there projects that I want to do? Yes, but not now. I have them in a little idea filing cabinet in my brain under "Something, Definitely that needs to be done."
I notice that when I am trying to motivate myself to work, it comes out salt-less. Lacking immense flavor.
But when I'm inspired, the work moves fluidly. If I come across a problem, the challenge becomes fun rather frustration.
I've been inspired to write on this blog. Thank you to all who are reading all my little words right now.

Step One: Surround yourself with inspiring things.
I venture to the local art gallery to see the latest sculpture exhibit by Chicago Artist, Richard Hunt. I love the reflection of the metals. They glimmer almost like ornamental pieces of jewelry from ancient ruins. I'm interested in how this 80 year old artist continues to mold and bend scraps into such shapely fountains of metals. 

Step Two: Take yourself out to dinner on the most blustery winter evening.
On one of the most disgusting winter days in the Midwest, everyone seemed to out on the town.  In a very crowded, tiny restaurant, my sister and I waited for 30 minutes for a great table, a glass of wine and plenty of conversation. While it was easy for me to complain about not finding parking, I enjoyed the crowded coziness of the restaurant and amiable patrons and waitstaff. Good company in a small room of strangers.

Step Three: Couch time is very much needed.
When the Oscar nominations are posted, I can't help but check out the who's who of cinema.
I've heard mixed reviews about Blonde, the film about Marilyn Monroe.
I'm an old soul and have been an admirer of Marilyn's fashion and film career since I was little. The film is truly nauseating and heartbreaking. Anything you can think of that pertains to abuse, abandonment and adoration, Marilyn Monroe experienced in her short life and the film depicts every single detail of that. It is a beautiful film.
But I must say, it will be difficult for me to enjoy re-watching my favorite Marilyn films again as it shows the reality behind the scenes. Ana De Armas, I tip my hat to you. Your acting is worth the gold!

During this wintry weekend, I had little to no plans. Besides the usual tidying up the house, putting around with creative ideas and a quick stop at my nephew's birthday, I was feeling very determined to write new material for my podcast!
I decided to make plans to go write somewhere other than my dining room table.
I ventured to a little cafe that is in a movie theater. It sounds odd, but it works. A gloomy, wintery Sunday morning, I packed my laptop and determination and headed east to the cafe.
I walked in, found myself a table and busted out my laptop. I could feel the words bolting off my fingertips, ready to strike the keyboard.
The waitress approached. I knew exactly what I wanted. Coffee with cream and the frittata.
"We don't allow laptops on the weekends." - said the waitress
Confused as I looked to my left at a lone patron who was crocheting and half empty cup of coffee.
I stated I had worked in the cafe before on my laptop with no issues.
Apparently, a brunch crowd can change all the rules when it comes to technology but knitting needles are permitted. Noted.
Embarassed. I tucked away my computer and sat alone. With no armor to block my single self.
No book, no knitting needles. Just me and my coffee. 
As I waited for my frittata, the kind eldery woman crochetting struck up a conversation with me. I consider this the silver lining. If I had my head buried in my laptop, I would I have not learned all about this woman's hip replacement.
Did I write when I got home? No.

The weekend had a continuing theme pertaining to the kindess of strangers.

The pet supply company, Chewy, sent me flowers. Chewy sent Joon, my dog, a card for her birthday this month. I emailed them to thank them but also to inform them that she made her way over the rainbow and no more birthday cards need to be sent. A wonderful surprise of yellow flowers were delivered to my door. While there was no sun in sight that day, I felt the shining presence of Joon beaming out of bouquet.

Sometimes you don't need a packed schedule in order for something brillant to happen to you.