It’s a friggin’ gorgeous spring day here in southeast Pennsylvania. One baby is snoozing inside, and the other two have joined Mama on our newly-spruced-up deck.
Raja is in paradise. #sphynxlife
And Big Boy Henry is behaving himself, so rather than rearranging things to get a better photo of him, I think I’ll leave well enough alone.
We’re sharing a moment, we three.
And as I like to say quite often, I feel happy in my young heart.
I’m taking time for the things I love, and today, that’s art. Whether it’s filling in my anti-fascist coloring book, or painting little cheapy ceramic pots, I’m scratching that creative itch, yo. One little moment at a time.
Because with each passing day, I’m reminded more and more:
Now is all we have.
. . .
SnapDragon is a writer, artist, thinker, and frivolous singer of harmonies.
Whether you’re new to Snippets of SnapDragon, or one of my faithful readers (I think I’m up to 8?) welcome back to another day in the Blogisphere.
Several years ago I wrote a piece about the many facets of my personality, or the handful of alter egos that make me me. I actually shared it with my high school students as a beginning-of-the-school-year exercise. I thought about digging it out of my files and uploading it today, but then thought, Nope. It’s always better to start fresh.
So here we are.
The painting you see above is the first “real” piece in my artistic catalog (as an adult, that is). It’s hung on our dining room wall, perfectly placed so that when I am curled up on the love seat in the adjacent living room, I can see it clearly.
At first I didn’t know what to think of it. Is it finished? Is it too cartoony? Too colorful? Too bizarre?
It doesn’t matter. Because it’s me.
All three pieces.
So travel with me as I define each woman you see. Consider it the unholy trinity of SnapDragon X.
Call me Charlotte. I’m the library-loving soul who wears colorful high-top sneakers and gets excited about fruit-flavored lipgloss. I decorate the walls with an array of magazine clippings, ranging from photographs of potted plants to headshots of famous people I do not know. I’m a teacher. I love routine. My classroom chalkboards are pristine and filled with color-coded journal prompts. My eyes are missing because I only come to life by interacting with others.
Call me Rita. I’m the whisky-drinking, foul-mouthed redhead who wants to keep the party pumping. I sing, I dance. I take a chance by telling the truth and encourage everyone present to do the same. We’re on the same side.There’s nothing to be afraid of. I tell myself that I’m allowed to be me, and people can take it or fucking leave it. Then when I’m alone I spiral into an abyss of self-doubt and delusion.
Call me Heather. I’m the empath of the group. No matter your story, I feel a connection to you because we are both human. I rejoice in your success. I cry for the loss of your father, though we never met. There is a cavern of emotion inside me, one that drains me and makes me want to hide in the bathtub for hours on end. I love me, I love you. I want us to forgive.