The Road Back

asdjfh#o4t8u(@a;oi#$%$v49q30[4ut9  Why didn't anyone tell me what to expect when I return home after 5 months of traveling?!?!  aio^%*&(c48at/qo;cq48tvy  

Flying over Borneo

I've been back in the US for 3 weeks now after traveling through southeast Asia for 20 weeks.  From the minute I got off the plane I felt like I was on a different planet.  The air didn't smell of shrimp paste, streets were clean, I didn't have to search for wifi, and people would look at me strange when I smiled at them - or when I waived at their kids (they smiled at me first!).  The first day back, I was afraid to leave the apartment!  I kept thinking it would mean my vacation was over.  The feeling of adventure and freedom would be over.  

Being back in NY is like meeting up with an old boyfriend.  You were once so close and shared a life together.  Now that you've moved on, how do you relate?  You don't.  So you probably kill time by talking about old mutual friends.  That was my approach to NY.  I found a place to live near my old apartment, ate at all of my favorite eateries I'd missed while gone, etc.  But it all feels so different.  It almost feels annoying.  I'm use to having constant stimulation by something different that all of these things that stayed the same feel blaaaah.  Then a good friend said something to me that totally changed my perspective: 

"Why does your vacation have to end?  What if your entire life could feel like you're on vacation?"    

Damn!  That would be amazing!!  I want that.  How do I feel like I'm on a permanent vacation, yet still do things like work and go to the grocery store?  I thought: "ok, the answer to this is easy.. ART" I'll go and get reacquainted with my art.  

This is where I was thrown into a whirlwind.  I was on such a creative roll right before I left that I thought I could easily pick it back up.  I was wrong.  It's not that easy.  I sit at my favorite cafe staring at an empty sketch book.  Sit at my bench staring at a clean surface (unheard of for a jeweler).  Sit in my room.  Sit in the park.  Sit at the Met (Alexander Wang exhibit is incredible, by the way!). Nothing.  Nada.  Someone shake me!!! 

On top of that, everyone I see or meet that knows about my trip all have this expectation of me, "Wow!  You must have had a lot of inspiration.  Are you designing crazy stuff?!"  Nope.  I am not.  I am unable to design.  I am creatively constipated.   

I don't even want to see my old friends because who wants to admit this?  Who wants to tell people "I went on a 5 month trip and came back a stranger to myself"?

All the while I'm trying to hold onto that vacation feeling.  My freedom.  My love.  My sense of self.  My enthusiasm and hope for the world.  The sounds of jungle.  The smell of the air.  The smiles of little kids - the gleam in their eyes.  I want to hug my last 5 months so hard.  You can say I'm too much in my head.  But maybe I'm too much in my heart. 

So, I've signed a contract with myself, to begin (as cheesy as it may sound) the Artist's Way.  I've decided that this is my opportunity to redefine my relationship with "home".  I'm going to find my permanent vacation.

Deer Cave - see good 'ol Abe Lincoln?

To be continued...

A prayer to Tad Yuang waterfalls, Laos

There's a feeling of freedom flickering deep in the center of my chest. 

I hold onto it so tight that at times I can hardly breathe.

Now, I am no longer afraid.  

This feeling is mine.  

Nobody can take this feelin away from me. 

I am free.

 

Tad Yuang Waterfalls, Laos

 

 

Mountain layers near Meung Ngoi

 

Motorbiking through Thakek

Thong Lor Cave

Children of Laos, happiest and friendliest people I've met.

Pressing Play

I know I haven't been such a good blogger lately.  I've been busy brainstorming and conjuring up the best, biggest, brightest, most beautiful, perfect, loving, joyous, adventurous life.  Yes, I've been dreaming.  All day, everyday, dreaming.  dream Dream dReam dreaM drEAm DREAM  

I've been dreaming so much that I started attracting people that are living the life I want.  (I know it sounds like witch craft but it's true.)  Apparently, you can find these people on airplanes.  Like the theater production woman who has a 2nd home on Big Island that she retreats to a few months a year.  Like my coworker's parents who move to a different country together every few years.  Like the Indian architect girl who grew up in Australia that has lived in 5 different countries.  When her mother asked "Why do you want to be gypsy?"  She responded, "Everyone I know is settled with a house, spouse, kids, etc...  

Why should I want what everyone else has?"

If there are people out there living MY dream, then that means it's possible for me too!  So I've decided to test this theory out.  To start living the life I want NOW.  Not waiting for it to come, but accepting that it's already here.  Enough with the buffering, it's time I press play.  With 110,000 miles (thank you Capital One no hassle rewards card!), I'm moving out of my apartment, putting my things in storage, subletting my studio space and taking a little 3.5 month trip through SE Asia.  No, I'm not trying to be Eat, Love, Pray.  I'm doing this to test out my theory.  To close my eyes, cross my fingers, and press play.  New York, work, jewelry, my stuff, my studio, my friends, my life will all be here when I get back (I hope. Right?!)  

So bye bye winter, and see you all in the spring!  Keep checking in because I may put little travel treats in this blog.

Mark it

A dear friend of mine quit his job and is going on a new journey.  So I made him this gift to take along with him - it's a "fly" bookmark (had to spell it out in case you couldn't tell).

You're going to see this word pop up quite often b/c I'm really into it, I don't know why.  Some think I was once a bird.

Before I was Born

After hearing of my switch from accounting to jewelry, people often ask "Why did you chose jewelry?".  To which I'd reply:
"I don't know, I just thought I'd try it".  
"Leave your career to try it?!"
"Yeah...(duh)"


Back in December, our family was home for the holidays and out of nowhere my mom comes bouncing in and hands me a little bag.  In the bag was a tiny ring with the initials "L L" on it (my mom's maiden name initials).  My sister and I, totally confused, asked:
"Where'd you get this?"  
LL: "I made this"
Me: "What?!  When?"
LL: "Oh, you didn't know?  I took jewelry classes before.  It was too hard, and I didn't think I could be successful in it, so I stopped"


Let's get the facts straight:
1.  2007 quit my job
2.  Moved to NY
3.  Started school full time for jewelry 
4.  Went to Florence for 5 weeks to study stone setting
5.  I'm now working as a full time jewelry designer
6.  For almost 3 years I made this huge change in my life on a leap of faith and I had NO idea my mom took jewelry classes before.  


Last weekend I was home visiting the family (7 months later).  My sister brings back the borrowed Lulu ring.  Once my mom sees it she brightens up, "Oh!  This is the ring I made when I first moved to California.  I was pregnant with you and wanted to take jewelry and ceramics classes because it's what I always wanted to do".


So now when people ask me "Why did you chose jewelry?", I can now answer:

"It's something I picked up before I was born."

Nature Wins

Is this a subway garden?

As I was taking this photo, a man walked by and said "This is perfect.  Nature wins every time"

Life and a Mountain Bike

Would you rather die from being dragged along the bottom of the ocean or from flying off a mountain bike?  Can't decide? ...

Last weekend I was in Sedona and went mountain biking with some friends.  We had a guide named Simon, from Africa - sweet, calm voice (think Robin Williams in Good Will Hunting).  I wasn't too nervous - I mean I am comfortable riding on those green painted bike lanes in NY, how much harder can a mountain be?  At least there aren't crazy taxis on a mountain.

"As you're riding, keep looking far ahead, don't focus on what's in front of you - just like in life.  Keep your eyes at the end of the trail and only glance at the path for obstacles."  Ok Simon, I'll try that.

Next thing you know, my bike is slipping and sliding around the loose rocks and I feel myself flying through the air, landing on my shoulder and ribs, squeezing the breath out of me.  My head bangs the floor and I see a flash of white.  (looks a lot more graceful in my head, but I'm sure that would have ended up on America's Funniest Home Videos)

Simon said that it was the worst accident he'd seen.  He said I was riding really well, then when I started going fast downhill, I got scared.  That's when my bike swerved and I lost control of it and flew off.  As Simon said, "Fear is what throws people off course... though you must have a go-for-it personality because not many people will run full speed, jump and dive into a bunch of gravel"

So kids, the lesson learned from all this...

1.  Focus on where you want to be, not on all of the details in front of you;

2.  Don't let fear throw you off course; and

3.  It's ok to use your brakes.

Now that I've lived through being dragged along the bottom of the ocean while surfing and flying off a mountain bike, I'd rather die on a bike.  Drowning is not the way to go.  xoxo

PS. Thankfully, no jeweler hands were injured from this accident and yes, I have insurance.

Nature's Surprises

Summertime's general rule: Sun = Beach.

EXCEPT in NY, Beach does not always = Sun.  It's like that rule we learned in 3rd grade: a square is a rectangle but a rectangle isn't a square (never made sense to me either, don't worry).  One weekend, my consortium of jewelry design friends decided to take our weekly meeting to the beach.  This meant I can work on my tan and expense my bag full of sunblock, magazines, and new itune purchases, right?  

Wrong!  As Janet & I approached Long Island on the train, with Mara Metals waiting to pick us up, nature laughed at us: "muhahaha silly humans.  Just because it was 90 degrees all week doesn't mean it's going to be sunny for you today.  I'm more powerful than weather.com's hour by hour. So there."

I'm happy I went regardless, because nature sent us a surprise...

Mind over matter

Thanks, nature, for the most beautiful sunset I've seen since moving to New York, and thanks for letting me experience it with some of my close friends.  (While we're at it, thanks for the avocado and coconut - looks horribly ugly on the outside but surprisingly awesome on the inside)

For more photos of our trip, check out Janet Mazorie's blog and her beautiful jewelry!

The Closet Blues

(Please read the following with your best infomercial voice)

Are you tired, sick, disgusted by your wardrobe?
Have you been wearing the same tank top since 2003 (meaning you didn't buy it vintage)?
Do you spend an extra hour after your morning coffee staring at your black cotton line up unexcited?

You have the Closet Blues.  

Wikipedia (will soon) states: "Closet Blues is a phase in your closet life cycle where you think to yourself 'Gosh darn it. I have nothing to wear'  It often occurs towards the end of a season, after all of the sales racks have been rummaged through and to jump the gun on the newest pair of boots would be ridiculous. (That's right, Wikipedia uses the word ridiculous)"

Well have no fear because I have a suggestion...

Stripe your nails!  No, not strip.  Stripe.  

(If you're one of those that hate looking at feet, press page down now)

Tape off stripes like you would if you're painting your walls. Wait for paint to dry, and presto!

Stripes that will brighten any outfit.

I know, I have cabbage patch kid toes.

Striped nails out on the town

© Janet Mazorie

Dream Catcher Bracelet

Who here dreams?  (Raise your hands)

I don't mean dreams like the ones you have while you're sleeping (e.g. flying through the air, trying to get away from the monster that lives in your toilet).  Nor do I mean dreams you doze off to while at your desk around 2:45pm of the cute boy you saw on the subway (yeah I caught you, stop blushing).  And no, not the scheming dreams like going through your closet in your mind, putting together the best combination worthy of debuting the new shoes you're carrying in your hand.

I'm talking about the dreams you had when you were 5 or 10 years old - of your grown-up job, your family, if you were in a mansion or a shack - porsche or a volvo - had 1 or 5 kids (wait... that's MASH).

After my first semester at FIT, I was confused.  I didn't understand what my path was.  What are my steps?  What do I do with this trade I'm learning?  How do I make money?  What does being an artist mean?  Does a degree make me an artist?  Was making jewelry an art?  Ahhhh!!

I turned to my teacher for advice (you remember the teacher that had me saw out a dozen circles by hand).  Sweet Japanese man - think Mr. Miyagi, but not as athletic.  Chie grinned:  "Your past is your past.  You have to forget it.  Art is very different.  There are no answer to your questions"

Waaa?!?!  What do you mean no answers?

"Colleen, Just dream big.  

Dream really really big because this dream will find you."

What does that mean?  To dream.  I can't remember how to do that.  At what point during the course of my life did I stop dreaming?  WHY did I stop dreaming?  Do other people do it?!  

I think I stopped dreaming when I was told to start making goals.  Essentially it's the same, but "goals" feel restricting and concrete.  Making goals stripped the fun out of dreaming.  It was easy for me to say "In 5 years, I will be a CPA".  But it didn't even dawn on me to try and imagine what my life would look like in 20 years.   What will the environment around me look like?  What kinds of people do I want in my life?  What will I be feeling?  What will make me happy?  I was taught that to be successful in life, you have to make goals.  Here I am, 30 years old, and finally someone is teaching me that to be successful, in how we measure success for ourselves, we just have to dream.

        

(Click here to see the final piece)

So go ahead and make your goals.  But never stop playing MASH.

Starving Artist?

Man: Hi, Howzit goin?

Me:   Good, you?

Man: What's with this weather?

Me:  I don't know!  I'm from California, I don't understand the cold...

I was at a bar having your standard string of small talk.  At the time, I recently moved to New York and was in my "I'll talk to anyone because I just moved here" state of mind.   The guy seemed friendly enough - in a button down stripey shirt, sleeves rolled up, black slacks, so-so black shoes, silver fossil watch (all of you have met this guy, I know).

Man:  So what do you do?

Me:    I'm in school.  FIT studying jewelry design.

Man is silent.

Me:    No, I'm not 18.  (I knew what he was thinking)  I changed careers, I was once in corporate finance and now I'm studying jewelry.

Man: Ohhh, you're doing the starving artist thing...

What is that suppose to mean?  Why, because I didn't own a 70" flat screen TV, am still wearing clothes I bought in 2003, and don't have the latest gizmo-gadget-iphone-stormberry - this makes me "starving"?   He's at a bar, on a weekday, coming from work in his robot work clothes - I'd say his happiness is the one starving.  

But I shouldn't be so hard on him because I was once him (well, not exactly him, I'd never wear that outfit, and I never judged other people's lives).  I thought because I was climbing to the top, because I was doing something I'd been trained to do, that I thought I'd been wanting to do my whole life made me "successful".  Because even though I use to work endless hours, I justified it by having enough miles to go on exotic vacations, eat Nobu like they're my personal chef (I didn't really do this), and live the life my parents always wanted me to have...

Douchebag: So why change from finance?

Me:  Because I didn't love it. 

~The END~

I'd love to hear your take on this - please comment!

A Lesson from Dude

For me, being creative means reaching within and expressing yourself through art.  Though it's fulfilling, it leaves me feeling more vulnerable than I've ever felt. Ever. (Putting your thoughts out there on the WWW for everyone to see is a close second)  After my first semester at FIT, I was still wondering if I was cut out to be an artist.  I didn't understand what that meant.  Were my designs good enough?  Are they different enough?  Was I good enough?


A friend of a friend (who will remain nameless) took a lot of interest in what I was doing since he went to art school for undergrad and his girlfriend at the time studied jewelry (mind you, that was 12 years ago, when he was 19).

I show him some stuff - my first hand sawn ring I made from scratch and a 5 hinge bracelet with hand made bezel settings from my first soldering class.  Ever.


He looks at it.  Closely examines every nook and cranny.  If the dude owned a loop, he would have whipped it out.  His face is expressionless.


Dude:  Colleen, this isn't good
Me:  {in shock} Huh?  (he proceeds to point out every flaw in my pieces)

My head:  Did I ask for your opinion?

Dude:  I'm sorry to be hard on you but you need to hear it like it is. It's not good enough.
Me:  But it's my first sawing and soldering class...
Dude:  Well you shouldn't leave it this way, you should have done it over.

{gasp}

Me: There's no time!
Dude:  My girlfriend in college always made time. She had her own bench and would work all night.  (surprise surprise!  All nighters with a saw in one hand and a torch in the other is not recommended)  Colleen, you're not working hard enough.  You have to work harder.  You'll thank me later for telling you.


I've never wanted to see someone dead so badly before.  I could feel the steam coming off of my head and hands (like in the cartoons).


I know what hard work is -- I use to work 75-100 hours/week (no time for lunch), I studied non-stop for months for my CPA exam.  Work even invaded my dreams - and those are non-billable hours!  However, having had that experience, I can say with full confidence that I have never worked harder than I did while at FIT.  I was out to prove something.  Prove it to my parents, to my peers, to the people who thought I was nuts for leaving my career.  I was out to prove it to myself.  So much so that I WOULD do projects over and over, to the point where my teacher would say "Colleen, it can't be perfect. Nobody's perfect"  And then I would do it again.  And again it wasn't perfect.


Now, I realize that Dude was saying to me what I had been saying to myself this whole time.  If I was offended and angry at him, why on earth would I say that to myself?  I truly believe that everyone has their own pace in life and are on their own journey.  So Dude, you were right.  It's been 2.5 years and I thank you for reminding me to believe in myself, and not to listen to pricks like you.

(I lost this ring shortly after)

On a positive note, check out the rings I make now!
Rose Bud
Predictions
Smoke Rings

Random Thought: Dog Calls

Waiting for the subway, especially late at night, is painful.  I stand around, staring aimlessly into the subway track (aka New York's massive garbage can - by the way, stop littering).  About every 5 minutes you can see the little rats running around.  They must have so much fun, like living in a jungle gym.  Then I wondered, do rats respond to whistling the way dogs do?  I know this sounds gross, because they're rats so work with me here...


I crouched down, waited for a rat to cross the track, then started whistling the same whistle I use to call Wrigley.  toot toot TOOOOOT... ... toot toot TOOOOOOOOOT... toot... toot? (I'm not very good at this).


It's been confirmed:  Rats do NOT respond to whistling the way dogs do.  
AND people give you weird looks when you're whistling to rats at 1 am.  Anyone else tried it? I'd like to know.