Little Pig, Little Monkey

So I am watching a video on YouTube--a baby monkey riding on a mini Havalena's back (that's a pig).  That little monkey hung on for dear life and when someone grabbed it and it fell off, you should have heard it scream.  The little fella took off after it's 'mommy' screaming the whole way. (Boy can those things run fast!)
The little pig tried to get away, running as fast as its legs could go, but that determined monkey jumped back on.  I don't think that the pig liked the monkey, as it was constantly trying to knock it off by climbing through low fences.  Still that critter held on, hugging that pigs back like a child being separated from a favorite toy.
I am not sure what the back story of these two is, but it is pretty funny.  Little pig, little monkey.  
I think this is exactly what happens when we try to get away from some habit or memory.  The harder we try to shake the freeloader, the harder it clings.
Maybe some olive oil would help remove the hitchhiker--at least it would provide some much needed lubricant to a sticky situation. 
Oh the places one can go on a computer. 

A Season Of Growth

Some of the time, I just want to leave the box under the bed.  I haven't posted for a few days because I overwhelmed myself with ideas and choices and options anda dnandndndndnd.  
Know what I mean?  Just about the time I think I am figuring things out, something else pops up and distraction--oooh look a bird.
I hate it when there are more options to decide upon every day i.e. do you want a new background, do you want a new account, do you want a new title, aargh. 
Obviously I am not having a lot of fun trying to navigate these new waters. 
I think that today I found the OCD thing in my box.  Too much input, not enough output.  I am such a visual learner it is not even funny and the OCD also explains a few things to me.
Why I can't always tell if someone is joking or serious, why I get overwhelmed with decisions and endless possibilities and why everything has a place and everything goes in its place.
Seriously, might as well be real and honest.
One of these days I will invite all of my friends to this post, if I can figure out how to do that.  Before all of you pros laugh at me, remember the days...
It always has taken me a little longer to get some things, but once I 've got them, look out, the possibilities are endless.

Gonna need a bigger box.













"A Season Of Growth"
acrylic on canvas, 30x40
appropriate title for this post, don;t ya think?

http://www.myartspace.com

Above is a link to my art on myartspace.com  you may need to search me by SharieBabb.

Lately I have been thinking about this box under my bed theme.  The idea came from a survival tactic that I used when I was around 7 or 8--I had a big box that my dad's work boots used to live in.
I put everything that really  meant a lot to me in that cardboard keeper.
Colors, paints, paper, markers, my favorite toys that I hadn't decided I had out grown--at least I wasn't ready to give them up yet--and all of these items were what I needed to survive.
Here is the sad part, I was always worried that we would be kicked out of our house by the evil bank people who drove up in big black 'Lincoln Towncars'.
Dad used to tell us that if we ever ever saw those type of vehicles pull up in front of the house, we should lock the doors and hide.  He was always worried that our house would be 'repoed' and we would be living in a chicken coop.
Those were not fun times.
My safety was inside that box, as long as I could have my box, I didn't care if we had to live in a chicken coop.  I just needed to know that it was there waiting for me when I needed it.
Sometimes I wished that I could just fit in that box and live there along with all of those special things.
So why I am writing about this now?  I guess it has been on my mind for sometime.  In the present atmosphere of terrorism, failing economy and general unsureness, I need my box more than ever.
Now I do have figured out that I am never going to fit inside that box, but I can still remember those feelings.
I carry a new box now, and I still have one special one under my bed.
A lottery of the same items are stored in there, art projects, art media, favorite things, like rain and many more memories; they are just dustier. I am still anchored here by that box, wonder if I will have one forever.
Maybe one of these days the billion dollar lottery ticket will be mine and I will have all of the answers needed for success, health, and happiness.
Guess I will just keep digging and dusting and wondering what adventure waits for me at the bottom of that box.  Maybe it will boring and small or perhaps it might be huge--I will just keep at it and get back to living in the now, until then...

The box under my bed.

I was once told that I needed to be transparent.  Be vulnerable, be real, okay here it goes. 
There is a box under my bed, literally and hypothetically.  You guessed it, I store all kinds of things in that box:  shoes, seasonal clothing, my wedding dress, all of the things that you would expect to find in a storage box.
But this box, this translucent box is where I store all of the things that I need to survive.
My creativity, the tools used for those processes, My dreams, (all of them) the scary, the funny, the colorful and the downright weird,
My memories, the ones that no one can touch, taint or take away, 
and there are probably more in there that I am not revealing.

Maybe I will, who knows what things I can find in there?
So as blogs go, this is a new venture for me and therefore an introduction, so follow me as I journey through that box under my bed.