Compartmentalizing my life

I’ve determined that I really like to compartmentalize my life.

I like to have separate friend groups, separate things I do with said groups (as I rarely mix them), separate places to do different activities, separate things I tell certain people but not others… the list goes on.

And I’ve also realized that I need separate places to share my writing and art. Venues separate from my family and friends.

I’m not a particularly “open” person in general. So when I briefly tried to share the occasional drawing on social media, where most people I know could see it, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “Wendy, why would you ever do this?? Abort mission!”

Long story short, I’ve decided to start another blog to share my (silly? comical? sometimes cynical?) drawings and maybe the occasional watercolor and I don’t know what else.

But the fact that this will be separate makes me feel better. Phew. (I know, I know, my neuroses are showing.)

My art blog is at here if you’re at all interested. I’ll be posting both here & there! 🙂

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I’d love to know–
Does anyone else have the strong need to compartmentalize their life and keep things separate?

Thanks for reading!

xx bits of prose and whimsy

Needing to Create

As a small child, I would cut and staple computer paper together and make tiny, lopsided books of my drawings. I drew people, bunnies, houses, and clouds. I painted wooden birdhouses and made things out of pipe-cleaners and popsicle sticks.

Creating something out of nothing was what I loved to do, and it kept me busy. I would tell people I wanted to be an artist when I grew up.

From my younger years through high school, I was always in art classes, whether in or outside of school. I honed my drawing skills and began painting. My favorite thing to draw were faces, and I loved making them as realistic as possible. I used shading and highlights to make them look just right.

Towards the end of high school, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my artistic abilities. I began college as a double major in studio art and political science. My painting class during my first semester was particularly inspiring. It taught me so much that I still refer to now.

After a year at that university, I transferred to another in my hometown. And while I loved my new school, I strayed from the arts (for the most part) and concentrated primarily on the social sciences.

And now here I am.

I am more than two years out of undergrad, taking a graduate-level English course, and still not knowing where exactly I, and my creativity, fit into things.

I’ve realized that naturally creative people will always have the need to create, and denying this side of myself will only make me unhappy.

I’m trying to decide what kind of creative life I want to live.

xx bits of prose and whimsy