Artism, insomnia and being Jeff Bezo’s whore…

Like a moth to the flame...

4:27 fucking a.m.

I was laying in bed staring blurry eyed at my rainbow digital clock as it stared unblinking back at me, mocking me. “Ya, I know you got into bed past midnight, but hey! I was thinking NOW would be a good time for you to wake up.” I rolled back over onto my other side, woefully sliding my pale pink sleep mask back into place trying to convince myself I could in fact fall back asleep. Then that all too familiar tingle hit. No, not you’re 53 and you have to pee again tingle, I mean that allowing my brain to think about my current art project I am cultivating, Operation Space Christmas. I should back up a bit…

A month or so ago I realized I wasn’t particularly enthused about Christmas decorating this year. For me this was a huge red light warning me something was wrong, as though I do not enjoy what my friend Stephen used to refer to as “Holly Hobby Christmas,” I do normally start giving my husband googly eyes so I can start setting up for my favorite day of the year sometime just after midnight of Halloween. No, I don’t start outside until after Thanksgiving (for the most part) but inside is free game as far as I’m concerned. So, for me not to be enthused would be like saying I no longer like bacon. In other words, crazy talk. So, I looked inward and asked WTF to myself and a wee spark emerged. Maybe this is the year for space themed Christmas. As my husband and I are pretty big Star Trek & Star Wars nerds, not so out there. The problem is I am an artist and autistic, which added together usually creates something I have historically labeled as “different,” but my friend Jack at our local community market Dahlias & Sage called it “Artism” not too long ago and I have decided to claim the new word as the descriptor for most of what I do. (Artist + Autism = Artism. Fucking brilliant!)

Over the next week the seed of an idea took root. I should also acknowledge that this entire experiment in progress was inspired by the blown glass Alien ornaments I scored on clearance at West Elm last year, still nestled in their boxes waiting for their coming out party. We already have a moon light mounted over our front door, which then led to ordering a vintage style orange 10” orb light and a collection of glass ornaments representing each of the planets. I had seen a Christmas tree decorated like a spaceship in space on Pinterest, so I stole that idea and put my own spin on it. Picture silver rocket with white marabou boas coming out of its ass and wrapping around the tree. Of course it can’t be our normal looking tree so I scored a black Tim Burton looking curved tree from Pottery Barn on clearance (yes, tiny led lights already on it) and after noodling on it for awhile like a drug addled speed freak I ordered some sheer dark blue and black fabric and tiny led lights to wrap around the base of the tree, to create the vibe of the cosmos.

I was officially on a roll.

There is a part of my ADHD/Autistic brain that LOVES sensory overload when it comes to color and texture, and I shall file that under the Maximalist Design category. I point this out in a lame attempt to explain why I couldn’t stop there. Don’t mock me, it is like oxygen for my soul. So, what else to throw into the mix you might ask nervously? Well, let’s add a model Enterprise ship, fishing line, a child’s Nasa Halloween costume and helmet and an actual bendable child form originally intended for a shop display and at this point you might also inquire “why child size?” Well, because when I suspend from the ceiling an adult form etc. would clearly be too much and I don’t want to inadvertently rip out chunks of the ceiling.  Duh. I figured I would cover the visor of the Nasa helmet with some type of reflective material and figured when ready, it would pop into my noggin (it did a week later when I was trying to figure out what to do with the rainbow gem tape I had purchased on Amazon. Because I clearly needed it, for something.) Anyhoo…back to 4:27 a.m.

I have wrestled with insomnia since I was a wee thing and luckily in the past few years I have found the right combination of nightly rituals, Tylenol P.M. and sleep dube, so for the most part I usually do o.k. Not this morning however, because I made the fatal mistake of once I had turned over and gotten reasonably comfortable, I thought to myself “those glass alien ornaments are awesome, but they are going to be too heavy for the spindly black branches of my aforementioned tree and clearly, I need to come up with something.

DING! Artism Brain activated. Fuck.

Once Artism Brain has been activated there is no amount of legally over the counter sleep meds to lure me back under, so I surrendered to the ride, and it hit. That sparkly lightbulb of a concept. Now my brain is whirring like a computer from 1997 attempting to load something and I could feel the internal vibrations stir. I wasn’t masturbating, I feel the need to point that out. When that little light bulb of an idea is born in my brain I literally start to vibrate. Not noticeably to others. I feel it. I used to describe it by reminding people who made the mistake of asking that it reminds me of my fave old York Peppermint patty commercial with the 2 little old ladies sitting on a porch eating them and one says, “it’s like little, tiny snowmen running up and down my spine.” That is exactly what it feels like. Rather if little, tiny snowmen existed and had some reason to be interacting with me (which would be awesome!), I remain confident that is how it would feel. This is the part where being Jeff Bezo’s whore comes in.

It will surprise no one that I have impulse control issues; or rather a subscription. Now I do happen to think Jeff Bezo’s is a douchebag, but that is here nor there. Amazon is my dealer, and it is open 24/7. You see, after I had gone through a gamut of ideas on how to adorn the space tree, I had a plan! This would involve lightweight, small clear plastic boxes (hello wedding favor boxes – 2”*2”*2”), tiny black clothespins (to hot glue on the base of plastic box – 1”) and tiny silver Christmas bows (also 1”). In my sleep deprived artsy mental bender, I remembered I still had 2 spools of the rainbow gem tape and that would be the solution for looking like the ribbon wrapped around the box, whilst maintaining its lightness (genius, am I right?). My thumb clicking fever and 10 minutes later, the 3 needed components were located, ordered and will arrive tomorrow, so I can begin construction of said “tree presents.” Handled!

It's worth noting here that under the header of “God has a sense of humor,” my husband who is a notorious early morning person seems to always sleep in when I find myself in one of these predicaments. Go figure. But here is the epiphany that has finally hit today, after a lifetime of frustration at myself, anger and rage at partners who were/are gifted with the ability to sleep with ease and the lack of quality tv shows at 4 am; why am I still fighting it? I am no longer in my 30’s racing to get to work by 8am at some corporate job. I never had children, and our cats are lazy. I don’t “enjoy” most of the conventional daytime hours as I flourish at night, when it is dark and the world around me goes deliciously quiet. Why am I still trying to be like “normal” people? Our culture, ancestral baggage, craving to “fit in” and not be called “weird?” The answer of what my epiphany is, is this:

Permission. I have spent over half a lifetime awaiting that elusive permission slip from some external source, when in fact, like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, it was with me all along. I simply needed to give the Permission Slip to myself.