Two Monkeys: Miles and Hank. Notice that Hank has a yogurt lid in his mouth. Fetching matters most, above all. Tonite I was uploading some new pictures, mostly of Miles. When I photograph him, I take 40-80 shots at a time, knowing that most will not be keepers. When I look at them full size, even if they are no good, I can hardly bear to delete them. I have this thing about moments-I hoard them. Deleting even a poor picture is something like a sin, because it showcases a moment and if I delete it, I am deleting the evidence that it happened forever... Totally O.C., I know. I try to keep only the best or most useful things in my life, but I struggle with letting go. I feel a sense of loss, then grief, when I lose details about something or someone I loved or cherished. For me, being an artist has meant creating within a moment. A specific energy is circulating, and I am capturing and documenting it when I write, paint or sculpt. Evidence that I am able to harness and color moments makes me feel grateful. I have a strong ethic of gratitude, not always a bad thing, unless you're me. Not writing, not taking pictures, or not documenting my life is decidedly ungrateful, unappreciative, not drinking in the moment, not recording the magic, living WRONG. I have kept dozens of journals in my adult life. When I read them, I can see who I am clearly. I can see that I am a good person, the same person, on my path. Apparently, I forget a lot. Creating and documenting reminds and shows me that I deserve to be living. That I have earned it. My lovely creations prove that, right? I am worthy? (Wounded underbelly exposed). This entry is dedicated to Monica Mardou who believes that everyone but she has it all figured out.