What's Left Over

The prompt for DOCUMENTED LIFE (DLP) this week was to "Use your under paper in a creative way."  In case you don't know, "under paper" is the paper you use so you don't get your desk/table/work surface all shmutz up with paint/spray ink/etc.  

The important words in that last sentence are you and your...because I don't really use under papers...  I just let my desk get all shmutzy...that way, later on, before I leave for work, my arms are celebration colored from all the spray inks that never quite wipe away completely...

In fact, I had to search high and low in my studio and I only came up with two under papers...

BUT...one of them ended up matching the opposite page in my DLP journal pretty well.  This was a completely unplanned event, so HUZZAH for serendipitous moments!

Here's what I ended up with:

Ta-da...

I found the quote on Pinterest, but apparently it's from a book/movie called "Captain Corelli's Mandolin".  I'm not sure which it's from, as I have never read/watched it, but according to Pinterest, it's from one or the other or possibly both...

Meh.

Though not my favorite face I've ever done, I do like her because she puts me in mind of Eilen Jewell, a singer/songwriter who I love, love, LOVE.  I didn't set out to make that happen, but when I finished the girl, that's who I immediately thought of.

Do they look a little alike, or is it all in my head?

I think I may have linked to one of her songs before, but here's another one that I can't seem to get enough of:

Sigh.  So melancholy and fantastic...I love it...

"Love itself is what's left over when being in love had burned away."

How fantastic is that scrapbook paper???  It's from a paper pack by DCWV called 'The Garden Tea Party'.  I find it EXTREMELY difficult to use because it's already so gorgeous...I always cringe a little when I do use it because I just want to stare at it lovingly and caress it and then put it safely away from my messiness.  I think this is my problem with all the scrapbook paper I have...I like it so much I don't want to use it...  And then I see more pretty papers and I must have those as well...and it leads to me having two huge shelves of scrapbook paper sitting there collecting dust...  Since space is at a premium in my studio,  I'm going to have to start knuckling down and forcing myself to use it more often.  I know this...but I still couldn't bring myself to cover up any of the focal image on this page.  

I think it worked out ok in this instance; the quote is enough.  That one little sentence is very profound, and, in my mind, the simple and sweet image contrasts well with the heavy words.  

This is one of those sentences I think everybody should pay attention to...or at least one that I wish I would have read as a young person.  I don't know if I would have appreciated it then though.

Only recently have I started to understand the expression about loving someone, but not being in love with them.  I guess, for me, it means being concerned for someone's future, but not wanting to be involved in that future...you want good things for a person, but don't want to be one of those good things.  *sigh*  It's hard to explain...

The quote from the journal page is like that too.  I don't know that I would have understood what it meant as a young person...not really.  When you're young, you have this idea that love will always be that initial, exciting, butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling...the one where everything the other person does is adorable and endearing.  But the truth is, real love isn't like that...or at least not often.  Real love is trudging through the muck together.  Real love is when those cute habits (Amy is so talkative, how sweet!) turn into annoying ones (Dear lord, does she ever shut up?!?).  Real love is when you can't stand listening to the other person for one more minute but you don't strangle them.  And yes, occasionally you still get butterflies in your stomach, but real love is getting from the moment of butterflies to the next moment of butterflies, and sometimes those moments are few and far between.  Real love is hard...and nobody seems to tell you that when you need to hear it most. 

Sometimes, when my husband tells me he loves me, I ask why.  And his response is "I don't know, I just do."  Every.Single.Time.  And I get so, so irritated.  Maybe it goes back to my former lack of emotions, to the days when I was only logical.  If you love me, there has to be a reason, there has to be something you can put your finger on and count and explain.  Why do you love me and not someone some other girl?  If you love me, why doesn't everyone love me?  And it bothers me that he can't come up with one stinking little reason.

  But maybe I'm wrong.  Maybe love is not like that for him.  Maybe he really doesn't know why.  

Sadly, that way of thinking is one I don't yet seem to be ready to understand.  Because if you asked me why I love someone, I could give you reasons.  I could explain to you that they make me laugh and they are kind and a million other reasons that make them different from anyone else.  Maybe what I'm looking for is the million reasons why I'm different.

I suppose that's a bit unfair.  As time goes by, I realize that there are people I find myself inexplicably drawn to.  Sure, I could name off a few reasons, but not enough to satisfy the question...not enough to explain why I care so deeply.  In that way, I suppose I'm not being fair to my husband when I try to force him to answer...

Love must come from a place so deep in our subconscious that we can't quite grasp it...like trying to remember a dream, or a word that's on the tip of your tongue but you just can't spit it out.

People are made of minutia, and I've found that there is a very thin line between the people you care for and the ones you don't.  Meaning I might love someone because they're funny, but I don't love someone else because they're not funny in the right way...  The differences between people are sometimes so small that we can't calculate them exactly, we only know that the differences are there.  Something you find endearing in one person, a quality that works well with all the other little details about them, may be a quality that you hate in someone with a different set of details.

As I get told, on a relatively regular basis, I think too much.  A friend at work likes to remind me that sometimes things just are the way they are and that's all...no reason to question, because facts are facts.  But, as I remind my friend, my brain doesn't work that way.  It would be a lot easier for me if it did.  Despite all the reasons that make it frustrating, my unquenchable brain thirst is one of the things that make me who I am...whether people find it annoying or endearing is up to them.  In combination with all my other qualities, it's one of my million reasons why I'm different.