I’ve been making paper mosaics. Much like my harmonica and sculpting and origami, I’m completely immersed in it and it’s all I want to do. I don’t want to stop until I make one for everybody.
I didn’t know there was an actual method to it; I just wanted more art for my walls and I had the idea to turn my journal into something else. When I started researching the best way to do it, it turns out there was a whole craft industry dedicated to paper mosaics. There’s texture gel that looks like grout, and Dimensional Magic to make the paper looks like glass. I suppose the only thing that makes my mine unique is the work that went into my scraps of paper.
Okay, so I tried to avoid reading Sid when I cut it up, but considering the fact that I’m a speed reader, plus how much that shit is imbedded in my brain, glancing at those pages means I basically reread 3 years of my journal in one sitting.
The reason I haven’t touched those books in so long was that I thought they’d just bum me out.
The strange thing is, the parts that I had assumed to be the happiest turned out to be the saddest, and the parts where I remember being upset turned out to be the most fulfilling. It’s kind of like “Footprints”, except instead of hanging with Jesus, I just partied and went out a lot.
Reading the parts about him (my ex, not Jesus) reminded me of reading all those entries about Travis and Timmy years ago – it made me so mad at myself because I just kept writing the same shit over and over without realizing it. I was fucking miserable that whole time. There was so much doubt and confusion and so many promises up in the air. It was just this helter skelter of emotion that practically broke me, because I was depending on him for emotions and strength that I was damn well capable of summoning on my own.
By the time I got to his giant kiss-off letter (the one where he swore he was living in Europe forever and never coming back – that he wrote a month before he moved home and begged me to take him back) I just started laughing. I mean, his convictions will always be capricious despite his insistence of sincerity, and I can’t believe it took me that long to see him for what he really is.
It’s fun and easy and perfectly fine to pick up a hobby, drop it, and pick up another right away. I have drawers full of paint and origami paper and harmonicas and clay. I can revisit them all the time, pick and choose what I love when I please, and it doesn’t affect anybody or break anyone’s heart.
It’s a lot more difficult to do that with careers and life-changing ambitions, and it’s an evil thing to do with people you supposedly love. And after reading over everything, I realized that’s what I was to him – this little piece of clay that he kept pushing back and forth, attempting to shape me into what he wanted. He kept trying to make me fit into whatever whim or fancy he was living out at the time, or he’d shove me in that drawer and save me for the next one. Reading about it made me realize that it’s absolutely impossible to be happy in that situation.
It also made me see that the best memories I had were the ones he wasn’t even a part of at all… I had so much fun reading about the moments in between, like getting to know all of my new friends and the countless concerts, parties, conversations, kisses, changes, and revelations that have happened over the past few years.
I couldn’t really become the person I am now until I was taken out of that drawer for good. I was not only shaped by something better, but left alone to settle and truly take form, both permanently and positively.
And those memories and that time in my life are kind of the same way… if I had left them in that drawer to collect dust, or taken them out momentarily to quench some kind of mood… they wouldn’t have been able to take shape so that I could see them for what they really are.
He can have his drawer of dreams and emotions and people and not-so-lovely lady lumps of clay. Maybe someday he’ll realize that nothing tangible can come from that arsenal until he takes it out and actually makes it real.
I’ll try to post real pictures of the mosaics someday. But I’m not trying to hype them up – they’re not masterpieces; they’re just cute and fun to make, and I like the significance behind them.
The biggest thing I learned from all of this is that it’s always possible to turn something ugly into something beautiful. All it takes is some time, some rearranging, and mixing it up with new things that you’ve picked up along the way. It’s messy and time consuming, but very much worth the effort.
P.S. Speaking of hype, I finally checked out the infamous band… . have you guys ever seen that episode of “Undeclared” where Marshall sings at the Talent Show? It sounds like that.
P.P.S. The only way I could make this entry more emo is by saying I mixed my watercolors with tears. I didn’t, but how awesome would that have been?