Inklings

I Love Typography was one of my first inklings that I might become a graphic designer.

The year was 2009 (the Internet was a very different place then). I was living at my mother’s house. I was 25 years old. (For context, I am going to turn 36 this April.) I had completed three years of a Bachelor of Arts, specializing in absolutely nothing, dabbling in everything. I had had depression, and left university. I had recovered. I was working for a marina in their hardware store, even though I was not a boater.

I wanted to go back to school and to do something else but I didn’t know what.

Somehow I stumbled across John Boardley’s passionate and funny blog posts about letterforms, and I was hooked. I remember checking each night for new posts. I loved how he wrote back to people and engaged in comments. But mostly I was excited about ascenders and descenders, and type history, and the making of typefaces.

I remember thinking, “Do people actually DO this, for money?” And, “Can I actually DO this, for money?”

Follow your inklings. Your never know where they will lead but they will probably lead somewhere good.

The nightly devotional

Reading Aidan his bedtime stories tonight, the same stories he wants to read every night, the little deer encountering snow for the first time, the animals snuggled up for sleep, and so on, it occurs to me that the job of the parent, my job, is to read each time like it is the first time. Even though you’ve read the text a hundred times, read each time like it is your first.

In this way it’s like the faithful reading their sacred text. Reciting a mantra. Touching each bead of a rosary.

Breathing life and energy into a printed word simply through intention.

A little woo, perhaps, but it helps me enjoy bedtime more.

Short blog posts

Have you ever read Seth Godin’s blog?

I really love how he posts every day, and they are short and thought-provoking paragraphs. A bite to get you chewing.

Today I’ve been typing ideas for longer blog posts (“when I have the time!” - that ongoing refrain of a working parent) into a Google doc, in and among my work at my day job, and it occurred to me that maybe it’s better to just post those little summaries instead. Their own posts. Little missives from the land of Leah.

So let’s try that out.

No fancy title

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I’m trying out blogging from my phone, because these days I think that’s more realistic. Time, I faced this week, is finite. No stretch. My energy too, reaches a point where I am done.

It’s Friday, the end of the week, and I’ve just got Aidan to bed. I’m wondering why it is that I always think I’ll have energy and motivation to do things (like clean up) once I’ve read him books, cuddled with him, and fallen asleep with him. I never do, I’m always wanting to just do the bare minimum and go back to bed myself.

I think it’s because we all think of ourselves like robots first, people second. And it’s so hard to break.

This was a big week for me because this week I talked to the manager at my part time job about reducing my hours there. I told her I was thinking of leaving. I wrestled with this for days before bringing it up, I texted several friends to weigh the pros and cons and get support in saying something BEFORE burnout actually happens. A few said it is “just a part time job", and yes, that’s very true, but this week I realized just how much this part time job has come to mean to me. And also - and I’m less keen to admit this - how much I enjoy that “having two jobs” feeds my own ego and sense of being a superhero.

But as those friends reminded me, you gotta take care of yourself. Just because you CAN hustle doesn't mean you HAVE to. So we’re reducing my hours, and we’ll see how that goes. The conversation I feared would be difficult … was not. It’s worth it to get vulnerable and make small changes to ease your own burden.

These are the quickly-jotted notes on the other parts of my week, typed when inspiration struck me at work earlier today. I’m not editing them because it’s late and I’m ready for bed… and I want to blog more, and let it be real:

Toddler time - Monday night just Aidan and I. Tuesday night my mom and her BF came over. the busy-ness and the unpredictability of a toddler. The cuddles. The sweetness (gentle pats) but also the suddenness of a slap. Patience, patience. HE teaches ME.

Wednesday night - AHHHH I can relax. A massage, her elbows deep in my shoulder blades, popping and crunching those knots apart. Home and heated up a can of Campbell's Soup. Herbed chicken with rice. Grace and Frankie. Gentle and palatable soup, show. My place to myself, curled up on the couch with my journal. Writing, loving on me. 

Thursday night - working at the clothing store after my full time job. Taking shirts and pants out of plastic bags. Hanging them. Talking to customers, asking if they want help, carrying clothes to change rooms. Signing in using my employee ID number, 577461. I would miss this so much. 

Heading to my BF's for the night. We cuddle and talk about nothing and everything. It is so easy with him, it feels like it can’t possibly be this easy. Yet here we are, almost at a year.

How do you plan for five years?

I don’t know but I want to try.

In five years I will be 40. A milestone.

Currently I’m busy with Lumiere - I am creating an icewall out of photos and poems - and a full time job. And a part-time job, which I am loving, since I’m learning about fashion retail. And a one-and-a-half year old. And a sweet fellow. And dear friends. Yes, I’m busy with all these things. It is a happy busy, but bursting at the seams nonetheless.

But it feels like once Lumiere is over, once the fall is underway, that my project for the winter is to take a deep dive. To ask myself questions, to answer them. To take a step back from (some of) the busy. To create some space for myself, to write, to journal. (Nights like this one, a cozy Thursday night to myself. The table is clean, the toys are put away. Joni Mitchell’s Court and Spark album plays on repeat.) To take a bird’s-eye-view of my life so far and pick out threads from what can sometimes feel like random experiences that have brought me this far (and then see where the threads want to go next). To perhaps renovate this space, this internet home.

Thoughts on a Thursday… we’ll see what happens.

August 7 - 10 things

  1. Time to take back the space. Do you remember when we wrote on our blogs and pressed publish and … that was it? There was no Instagram to cross-post on. No Facebook to load a link into and write a pithy caption to try and grab attention. There was just… this. Posting, and wondering if people would see it.

  2. It is quarter to eleven in the PM. My child is asleep in his crib. I can hear him breathing. Lungs knowing what to do, over and over. A year and a half old and he has changed so much in just the year and a half since coming out of my womb.

  3. (I made a PERSON. This astounds me over and over again.)

  4. Not only did I make him, I cared for him since he was born. I do it daily. I take breaks so his father can do it for a few days. Then I tap in again.

  5. I can hear the fan in his room. And the tapping of my laptop keys. Other than that it is quiet.

  6. I can feel change coming. Artist? Paramedic? Both? The house I dream of - the old shingles, the wild roses, the view of the sea? Or something else, and these are just the things I think of now, that are leading me there?

  7. What will I have for lunch tomorrow. I am bored of sandwiches. I am bored of preparing food. Remember how I made Adam’s sandwiches every morning? White bread. Sliced deli meats. Mayo and mustard. The same each time. I have blocked some memories out.

  8. The two hot muggy weeks are over, I think. Pre-Fall is beginning. Funnily enough that is also a “season” in retail.

  9. In the limitations of my busy schedule there is freedom.

  10. It was a non-elimination leg of the race tonight.