On Comparing Apples and Turnips

I did an impromptu inventory of my coloring books, art supplies and such over the weekend.  To color and use everything I have in my possession right now would take me at least 10+ years of "doing art" 10.5 hours/ day and I'd still have enough bits and bobs left over to fill two shelves.  Yeah, I did the math.  I'm a nerdy girl with geeky tendencies.  

I am disgusted with myself.  Truly!

I started this journey some time ago, oblivious to the larger coloring world.  I had some specific goals, a love of art I'd never had time to explore, and a wacky schedule that dictates anything I do be "pick up and put down and pick up again."  Turning my journey in to an exercise in frustration would not happen if I kept reality in mind when planning my projects.  

It would be just like when my children were very little and I was so determined not to turn in to mush brain. Only now do I have a little space where I can leave materials out until I can come back to them.  Back in the day, when I folded diapers and clothes, I read and studied using a coat hanger, bent and folded, to prop up the book.  When I nursed, I made my notes, wrote essays to ensure my thoughts were coherent, and sometimes fell asleep reading.  My learning and reading was clumped in to quarter hours of time.  I didn't expect hours, though sometimes they would appear and I would certainly seize the day.

I didn't slide in to mush brain.  I mastered frugality with a sense of historical perspective and not a little amusement over my lifestyle that others found ... odd.  There wasn't a great deal of time to discuss history, politics, geology, or even how to re-make an adult dress into a child's dress and boy's shorts in my hectic life.  When in a group, I was quiet, mostly listening, because that's my nature.

The internet came along and I discovered there were other women out there doing this mothering thing.  We shared tips and tricks when time permitted, and laughed together when dinner was burnt, the baby had diaper rash or was teething, and the toddler decided she liked dog food better than people food.   We shared our daily life and deep thots in email and a very few images because ... bandwidth and cost per minute.  Boy does that date me!

My point is, I know it can be done, squeezing something important in between the demands of schedules and family.  What I also know is that there is never enough time to learn, study, practice and do all the things I want to.  Fact O Life, that.  Further, this is the first time since 1987 that I have actual disposable income - that is money earned that is not spoken for before it's earned.  I think this fact made me a bit crazy with regards to books and supplies.  I know it fed my pencil lust into a pornographic frenzy of testing different brands to see all the colors!  

I never went over budget on supplies. I don't do credit or spend beyond what I make or jeopardize the emergency fund stashed for plumbers, mechanics, and sudden appliance repairs.  In March and April, I shared some overtime funds with purchases for others.  It was a great deal of fun that.  But I also began looking at my shelf, sagging with books and supplies, my back up drive with licensed freebies and pdfs, and started questioning myself with a bit of brutal honesty.

When will it be enough?  How many more books do I truly want, or need, to feel like I have a picture for every mood to be artistically expressed? How many more books do I truly need to push me beyond the basics to another plain of artistic exploration?  How many more supplies and bits and bobs and nifty things will it take before I feel satisfied my finishing touches are adequate?  Who the hell will I send all these postcards to?  My family is small, my friends not so many, and really, it's not like anyone is desperate to get a colored-by-katie mini masterpiece of silliness.  Where will I hang up all these pictures?  It's not like I live in a house with a gallery, our hallway is a boxy room of five doors and a floor to ceiling bookshelf for Pete Sake! 

All my answers made for a sober weekend, after some contemplation of #coloryourhoard a few weeks before.  I don't want a hoard, the very thought of having unused, unnoticed, unappreciated books and supplies makes me want to vomit, literally.  The idea of being a conspicuous consumer gives me hives. That hashtag and its wonderful intention put the brakes on my purchases as I squirmed to figure things out. 

As I am streamlining and thinning out the rest of my life, I was filling up this art pocket and it's spilling all over the place, mingling with old clothes and starring at me accusingly.  I was actually grateful for Monday this week and the return to work-a-day craziness.  And what should appear in Monday's mail but a Rita Berman book I ordered in March and a book I won in a chat.  I did a happy dance then ::sighed:: at myself.  Rly? Srsly? This is beyond Old Biddy Eccentric and moving in to the weird and worrisome zone.

As I've discovered, many in the coloring world have schedules that allow for hours of coloring.  I don't.  As I've also discovered, many have physical, emotional and spiritual challenges that make coloring not only therapy but also medication.  I don't.  Some folks are collectors, the priority is the collection, not the coloring.  I am not a collector, except of flamingos.  Purchasing supplies like I have time or need or space that compares to any of that is not sane, or responsible stewardship.

I was content with my ten books and two sets of pencils in December of last year.  When I finished one, I carefully plotted the purchase of the next.  I was oblivious to "The book might be gone, out of print, never seen again," because I didn't look for a new one until I had space.  I didn't fret about what to do with them when completed either, I pitched most of them for the first year, recognizing they were fun but not fantastic.  I didn't know ColorTube existed until late January, so there was no one to tempt me with awesomesauce stuff or the thrill of specialist techniques to learn and try.  Yup, even as an Old Biddy, I fear the mush brain.

So, what did my inventory produce over the weekend?

• I enabled myself, indulging in the freedom to spend money on my desires without starving anyone.  That's perfectly fine, but as a way to live ... not for me.  Having stuff is never going to equal contentment, it can in fact overwhelm me right quickly.
• I have more art stuff than I can possibly use in my remaining lifetime.  That's fine too, even if it's embarrassing as hell.
• I can't make time appear or expand or bend to my will.  That's not fine but, alas, it is what it is.  Getting snippy with family because I want to color and they need this or that is Not who I want to be.
• Errands and grocery run are no fun but rather essential.  Blowing things off to color is nudging the nutty zone, just reminding myself.
• Work is going to continue to be wacko, whether I work 12, 10 or 8 hours a day.  It takes energy to be focused on details as is required and that means my energy for coloring/ art isn't as much as I want it to be.  That's another it is what it is.
• Sitting at the art desk for most of the weekend and evenings is not conducive to good health.  That's not fine.  Getting off my plump tushie, enjoying weather and the yard, and noticing when the sun comes up or goes down is probably really important.
• Tutorials are great.  Take what you need and leave the rest is an excellent motto to art by.  Trying to keep up with all the tutorials and try this or that videos is as impossible as coloring my entire stash in my lifetime.  
• Chats are fun. But most are in the daytime when I work.  I work N lurk in most.  The impromptu evening ones are my favorite but even there, the call of coloring, or pickup of worker bees pulls me away.  Some days I resent my real life for interfering with fun, this starts a whole mess of stupid feelings that serve neither myself or others.
• I don't have much more to say in chat than I do in real life, except for silliness about brownies or greetings.  The sound of a voice is nice, but it's quite one sided, and really, how meaningful a conversation can you have when the screen scrolls by so quickly?  I will say my prayer life has been more active and that's always a good thing.
• I'm an introvert, not exactly shy, but I don't push to be seen, heard or noticed.  I am always groovy, no matter what is actually going on in life.  Both of these traits were hammered in to my soul before adolescence and reinforced through out married and single parent life.  Changing that now is a Herculean Quest I really don't plan to undertake.  
• I feel like a stalker instant messaging people I don't really know, and what do I SAY if they answer?  It was a cwappy day at work and I'm coloring now seems so ... bor-ing.  It is in fact why I color, to banish the bor-ing with bright colors!

Soooo, it's Wednesday now.  I have no idea what conclusions, if any, to draw from my introspection.  Are hobbies supposed to make sense?  Maybe, maybe not; I've never really had one before.  My hobbies were always survival skills that served a larger purpose; put aside without a second thought as soon as they were no longer needed.  So, examining coloring as I did sewing, soap making, cloth diaper washing, quilting, crocheting, floor and plumbing repair etc is comparing apples and turnips.  Expecting divine revelations from such is goofy as all get out.  Perhaps that's why I'm laughing at myself today.

The only real conclusion I've drawn is allowing myself the Joy in a Frivolous Pursuit is hard.

Maybe that's all I needed to confront and accept to kick aside the self-disgust. Well that and tidying my shelves, then firmly saying No to more indulgence of stuff.  

I'm not sure what that does to my participating in coloring communities. I'm slow to complete things, half of which I don't share because they're just another page colored like so many others.  Some are nice and some are okay, almost none are photo worthy.  I'm kinda stumped about this because time is a tough reality.  It's nice to feel like you belong even when you're just a name on the screen scrolling by.  But when I get right down to it, Community is something I consider to be a frivolous pursuit that is hard to allow myself.

That said, I have to acknowledge it is even harder to resist than books n stuff.