I went to Phx this weekend for a visit with my artist friend. It was a much needed reprieve from my “normal” life. I must admit a teeny amount of cognitive dissonance on Friday. I spent most of my day hanging out with my suburban mommy friends, and then spent the evening (and a few wine fueled hours into the next morning – woohoo!) surrounded by a downtown art crowd. It was weird.
Weirder is that I love and cherish both of those roles in my life. I don’t think I could give up either one, but I’m definitely not getting enough of the creative crowd. I was inspired by so much that I saw this weekend. I hope I can use that inspiration to propel me forward on some projects I have spinning in my head. You know, instead of just giving up and dragging down until I force myself to get away again for the weekend in a year or two.
To help me remember the journey, I bought a necklace for myself on Saturday. It’s one of those necklaces with multiple charms that often have a message with a different word written on each charm. I love those! Every time I’ve seen one, I’ve wondered what message would be perfect for me. Then I snap back into reality and tell myself that I certainly don’t need that sort of indulgence. Really, have you seen the gas prices?
The stars must be aligned because I bought the damn necklace. Mine says “Be You.” It seems like the perfect way to remind myself that I am Suburban Mom and Wannabe Arty Type, and I don’t have to choose. On the other hand, it’s a little frightening that at 36, I feel the need to be reminded, constantly, that I am who I am and who I am is ok. Or it’s pathetic. But I’m trying to be kinder. At least to myself.
And then it was like some cosmic force had been unleashed. On Monday I bought myself perfume. I rarely wear perfume. Of course that may have something to do with the fact that all the perfume I own was given to me by other people. I bought the perfume at Anthropologie. Words cannot express how much I love that store. Want to move in, and live in that store. I never buy anything there because a) I don’t have that kind of cash, b) I haven't been able to fit into their clothes since before Quake was born, and c) did I mention I don't have that kind of cash? I feel like a giggly, guilty schoolgirl. It’s so not like the Suburban Mom me, but Wannabe Artist me just got on her motorcycle for a cross-country ride with the wrong man. Metaphorically speaking.