If you’ve stuck around or if you’ve just recently stumbled upon this blog, you’ll have likely noticed that I’ve been on a personal writing hiatus since summer last year. With the advent of the pandemic & need for quarantining, my introvert self retracted into my inner consciousness as my anxiety & uncertainty grew in a new kind of existence I had never anticipated. Living across the country, away from my family & closest friends, for a high-level job & as an older mother to a young son in the midst of COVID-19, I’ve found that any additional efforts of mind or socializing at times have seemed so enervating so as to deter me from direct contact with people beyond home & work. The protracted effects of this quarantine & social distancing have yielded a deepening feeling of caution in being around other human beings. And that doesn’t feel wholly natural, as humans are by nature still social animals.

Yet, remaining isolated has had the effect of my having adjusted to such a type of solitude as a new normal. My most introverted aspects of my personality have seemed magnified, amplified, superseding even those social elements that I did once possess.

Pulling into myself, I’ve felt horribly guilty for ghosting those reaching out to me or for remaining incognito–even in places, for example, like this blog. I’ve consoled myself with very high levels of productivity in my career & professional development, & this productivity has often offset the guilt from thinking things like, Hey, at least, I completed that training, course, or writing project… [enter whatever deliverable or action item that applies]. For some reason, I guess that when I have felt a loss of control over parts of my life my go-to tends to be burying myself with learning. I’ll read articles, books, and research topics to death. I’ll watch documentaries, reality tv series, and bury myself in full immersion into subjects.

My brain loves to absorb information & thrills at problems to solve, puzzles to master, so it’s all too easy to slip into such pastimes. Anything that provides that sense of “flow,” where I can be doing something that takes a modicum of skill but also allows me to slip outside of myself in thought, pondering bigger things, feeling a part of something grander.

As I’ve continued practicing, I’ve learned that one is only as good as one’s tools & materials. The selection & type of pen used has a dramatic effect on how well one can master a specific kind of lettering, in my opinion. The paper matters greatly, too–how heavy the paper stock, the finish, absorption of ink, & even the kinds of fibers. The perfectionist in me loathes being wasteful & screwing up on lovely paper & with very nice pens, so I’ve worked to get better at script using poorer versions of both for practicing. Certainly, I’ve yet a long way to go before I can feel like I can perform that kind of flawless script that one can observe in animated hand-lettering videos that are so in vogue nowadays. My hope is that maybe I will be able at some date in the future parlay this skill into handcrafted pieces like silkscreened & hand-painted pillows, ornaments, rocks, signs, & other things I tend to purchase on Etsy.

While I know I lack the patience to crochet or knit, hand-lettering & drawing appeal to me. Let’s see how this unfolds. More to come.