Painting is good for the soul.
At least it's good for my soul.  Last night I painted for the first time in almost a year.  I didn't actually realize how deeply I had missed it until I could smell the turpentine and the paints.  Forgetting homework and a variety of other responsibilities I painted well into the night.  Spreading color on canvas is cathartic.  Refreshing to have enough energy left in my body to paint after a long Monday of class and rehearsal.  Not brimming with energy, but the type of energy that says, I'm tired but I'm gonna do this thing anyway.  Tonight is the night to make up for lost sleep, but the painting is worth an occasional late night.  I wish I could paint all day instead of grading papers, solving math problems, and writing cover letters. 

From the archives

The persistent smog above Providence pinches apart to reveal pure morning sky.  The crisp light of the moon and a few stars contrasts with the smothering pink of the clouds.  I think I could get up this early every morning to breathe the air and feel slight breezes on my face.  Morning is the one time I feel I could become one with the atmosphere and float peacefully. 

This summer I am a nomad.  My family has always been nomadic, but this summer it strikes me more deeply.  In May, I crammed my dorm room into a storage unit, three College storage boxes, and the trunk of my Katryn-sized Chevy metro.  Any one else would feel crowded getting into my car.  There isn't enough leg room in the front or back seat, and the ceiling is far too low for anyone above 5'5" to extend to their full height.  But for me, this car is perfect, my baby.  Emaleen, as my sister dubbed her early on, is not much to look at but she gets me places and with good gas mileage.  At 5'4¾", I fit perfectly into the driver's seat, my feet extending luxuriously to reach the pedals.  

After a month and a half of living in my car, it no longer feels luxurious.  I have perched, squeezed and crammed myself into countless vehicles for countless hours.  

In the nomadic lifestyle, the locations don't count.  The long stretches of mountainous driving, the strange and familiar airports, the highway rest areas become your entire life.  You never unpack and you are always prepared with cell phone and water bottle.  The people that you meet and know for 4 days, a week or even a month become annoying interruptions to the periods of wear solitary wandering.  You figure out how to make cramped cars and public spaces your home.  You know which fast food restaurants or coffee shops have WiFi and how late each stays open.  You build forts in abandon airport seating with a blanket and your backpack for a pillow.  You nap in the driver's seat of your car outside Chick-fil-A.  You try not to nap on warm afternoons with only two hours left of driving.  At all costs, you plan ahead to make sure you get coffee in the morning.  The orange tumbler you got free from the bank becomes an eternal source of coffee or water as the case may be.  You can't remember the last time you ate a home cooked meal or saw a face you knew before this summer.  

And so, the quiet solitude of the Rhode Island freeway at 4 o'clock in the morning is comforting. The window is rolled down to give me joy and the frappacino in the cup holder is to keep me awake.  As the latest acquaintances slide peacefully from my memory, I pull quietly into the parking garage of the Providence airport.  As I wait in the security line, I begin to feel at home because all airports are home to me.

I recently watched an interview with Helena Bonham Carter and was struck by something she said about clothing and accessories.  First of all, she dresses rather eclectically.  She talked about how she buys something and thinks, by wearing it, she would be transformed into something different.  But then she saw the photo and realized she hadn’t.  She described her acting similarly.  Looking back on a days work became a disappointment because ultimately she hadn’t been able to become anyone else by acting.  It was just her on the screen. 

And I thought: Why do we deeply desire to be outside ourselves? The Father intentionally made us who we are, individually.  Created us in his image.  And still we struggle daily.  Even those people whom we idolize are devoured by this desire.  Who are we to question the will of Almighty God?

Why can't I be content with who I am in the present moment?  With the image of the living God which breathes in me, regardless of what top I wear or how many likes my Facebook post receives.  Of course, not to say that I am perfect the way I am.  But must I struggle on brokenly and limping-ly, towards some metallic ideal, which in reality has no breath or life.

How To Train Your Human:
A guide to reintroducing your human to the home environment, for cats.

Step 1:  Snooze.  Sleep on your human's bed as much as possible prior to her return from an extensive absence. This ensures that your human will recognize and bond to your scent upon return.

Step 2: Welcome.  Greet your human briefly upon her return but do not linger for any amount of time.

Step 3: Snub.  Ignore your human for at least 24hours, so that your absence is more keenly felt and your presence made more desirous.

Step 4: Enjoy!  Reap the benefits of your labor by enjoying a warm lap and much cuddling.  Be sure to vocalize your pleasure as your purr is particularly addictive to your human, and you will therefore garner increased adoration.