This weekend JS and I went back to Solana Beach and hung out at the design district - a strip of the town, a few blocks long, with cute botiques all over. They have furniture stores, sculpture stores, a pet store, a few places to eat, a “global bazaar” store (really more like an indoor swap meet with heavy Asian influces…super cool) and, my favorite, an eclectic “little bit of everything” shop. The last time we were there JS bought a kitchen table that we use as a computer desk (and we use all 6 feet of it).

This time we avoided the larger purchases (even though there was a lovely sofa with a chaise lounger 60% off), but I still managed to come home with some bag fulls of adorable stuff.

First off: a matchbox with a peacock design on it.

Next, a set of 3 books (one blank, one lined, one graphed) in an orange bird box.

A pad of “to do” pages.

A set of bird note cards.

A composition book.

Blank cards.

Blank mini cards.

And…well, that’s it, other than the awesome ahi-tuna melt JS and I split, but I don’t have a picture of that. Sorry.

What I love about these products is that not only are they functional and beautiful, they also make me think more creatively, which, as I mentioned a post or two back, is something I’m really working on.

(These aren’t all the best photos, I know. I’ve begun shooting in RAW instead of JPEG, and am also trying to break away from auto and pre-set mode, so I need to hone in on my exposure skillz).

Technorati Tags: Creativity, Design, Photos, Shopping, San Diego

Things I tend to think of instead of writing:

1. Just one glass of Two Buck Chuck to get in the mood.
2. Hey, is my TiVo recording something!
3. Better see what it is!
4. OK, fine, one more glass. But that’s all. Must stay focused.
5. TiVo, we need to talk. No more recording Dr. Phil. Ever. Ok? I still love you, though. Please don’t forget to record the new “Coming Out Stories” this weekend. So long as it doesn’t interfere with Scrubs. STOP JUDGING ME! I do NOT watch too much TV!!
6. God, no wonder I drink. Even my electronics judge me.
7. OK. Back to work. Writing. Writing….
8. Oh. My. God. Is that a bump on the roof of my mouth?….It totally is. I bet it’s cancer. I better google it. ACK! Scary!
9. Need more wine to soothe self from scary google images of “bumps in mouth.” (do not try at home)
10. God. Am terrible person. Why did I think I could be a writer? All of my stories have already been told. By better writers, who are also happily married and more attractive. Probably don’t have scary bumps in mouth, either.
11. Hmmm. New email from Sephora. Oh!!! New product! Must try!!! Credit Cards love me, I should get paid for shopping!
12. Have disappointed parents, am sure. Should have majored in Econ or Christian Education so I could invest for them, or at the very least, know how to operate flannel-graph board.
13. Am I still typing? Better get back to my story.
14. Um. So. A girl. A single girl. Wants to be a writer. She, uh, has a best friend who’s gay and hot and she’d totally marry in a second, if it weren’t for that damn penis problem.
15. Waaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I want a baby! Look at the cute toddler on the Pampers commercial! So cute! And Boo! The perfect kid. Am sure I’ll have one just like her!! Only not computer generated….
16. Damn! The writing! God, I suck.
17. OK, so girl, uh, well, she does a few quirky things, meets some people, comes to terms with who she is even though it’s different than what she was raised to be, solves a huge mystery, falls in love, and lives happily ever after. Also gets a complete hair makeover from even quirkier (it’s totally a word. shut up) gay next door neighbor.
18. As my reward for completing plot outline, will have one more glass of wine.
19. Shit. All empty.
20. Luckily, TiVo found something new to record….ahhh, much better. Psychic Detectives. Will they find that missing Co-ed? Better stay tuned!!

I was emailing with John earlier today (No, I don’t have any other friends. Don’t bother asking) about feeling frustrated and disappointed with the lack of notable progress in our lives. I mean, I’m almost 20-something-older-than-I-am-now, and I don’t have a book or a script sold, I’m not done with my graduate degree, and as my mother will glumly point out, I’m neither married nor pregnant. Sometimes I just can’t stop that inner voice from getting too carried away with the self loathing (As Mama Lamott calls it, KFKD). I even tried taping an eviction notice to my forehead, but he stayed put. If he eats my Mint Brussels or messes with my TiVo lineup, though, heads will roll. Mine, in all probability, but I’m not letting little details like that get in the way of my threats.

I need to remind myself that things take time. That I am writing and making progress. I mean, I’ve written and co-produced 7 projects at work this year! That’s not too bad! I am 70% done with my MFA. I am still writing, even if it’s just for the sake of writing and not for any sort of publication or submission.  I’m still taking pictures and interacting with beauty and nature…

I need to remember that, as much as it would be pretty cool, the point of being an artist is not recognition or money, it’s to create. And as long as I continue doing that, I’m in pretty good shape.  And I need to remember that it’s OK to be gentle with myself, since the world is definitely not going to do it for me.