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Weeks of work crammed into a few days, to be able to get away. I am so tired right now… Everything unpacked still. It feels unreal that tomorrow at this time I will be in Amsterdam. And will be, for eleven days.

We were originally supposed to visit lots of places nearby plus go to Belgium, but our budget is on a tight side (since the bank messed up my credit card application, shit, and there’s the typical wage delay problem) so we have to give a miss at least to Belgium. But Hague at least, I hope. “Don’t shop, just chill”, says K’s brother. And that’s what we intend to do.

I probably don’t want to come back…

Drawings for Eero’s MSpaint challenge

“Some of us are born with unrealizable and unattainable dreams. They push and pull our beings through life like a pack of wild dogs on the end of a hundred straining leashes. But just coming to realize that some of those dreams could be a reality can be the first step in a persons coming of age.”

Dan Price: Radical Simplicity, Creating an Authentic Life

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The space between, not really here nor there. Old friends packing suitcases to go see the world. Others drifting apart.

Change is inevitable.

There is an interesting moment in the process of change. When uncertainty tips to certainty. The moment you know a relationship is dead. The moment you dare to think “what if” and then it’s the only thing to do. The moment before any action is taken but everything’s changed.

Declaring unwillingness to change is inviting it in. My flatmate gets an offer for a cheaper apartment, so I need to move, find a place that suits me better. More space, more peace, somewhere closer to my new school. And on my own.

in the beginning… there was room

mav’s gorgeous inspiration display

When I was a kid (and teen) I wanted to move around all the furniture in my room every six months or so. My mother is big on different curtains for every season. There’s been known to be spring/easter-, summer-, winter- and christmas curtains for the kitchen window alone. (A pain for the person who often had to iron them: me.) In our blood is a craving for change, different colours - different moods.

Now I live in a room so small there is only one way to organise the furniture so that it fits all in. The room doubles as my living and working space, an arrangement that is not working at all. Every article that says your bedroom is “for sleeping and making love only” just irritates me. So many of us just can’t achieve that right now, so give us useful tips!

Workspace out of home is not an option at this time, and wouldn’t solve all the problems. Moving is not an option. Everything in this apartment is inconvenient, kitchen is a nightmare, not enough closet space etc. But still, I love it. It’s the first place that feels like mine, and like home.

So I think I need to tackle the problems the best I can. For starters I need to satisfy my craving for change, maybe that will inspire me to clear the clutter. I’d love to paint my wall a different colour… maybe a mediterranean turquoise, like my flatmate first had (see pic). A second thing I want: clothesline for inspiration pics. (like mav’s).

Today I treated myself to two lovely things to hang up on it:
1. Abby’s airplane card.
2. Jessica’s Big Hearts -print, buy here, proceeds go to a really good cause.

I’d kind of want to create a live flickr favorites to be my constant muse. And I’d like to start supporting my crafty friends and buy more handmade things.

I’ll keep you posted on the redecorating process.

P.S. this is for the cluttered among us. A phenomenon, apparently. On My Desk shows workspaces of creative people.

P.P.S. If you have any great tips to share, I’d love to hear them.

the hardest thing: starting.

To be well, and happy, artists need to work. Otherwise we turn into the most difficult, pissed off creatures. Even more so than usual, that is.

And then, for the sanity of our loved ones, we have to start.

What does blocked feel like - other than bad? Blocked feels like nothing else. A blocked artist is a numb artist, a grief-locked animal caught on its own torpor and resistance.
- the sound of paper