Motion to Slay

I have always rushed myself. In everything. For no goddamn reason. Getting ready to go places even though I hadplenty of time; getting through school; finishing projects; being healthier; being smarter. I never had any reason to rush myself other than the fear of being left behind. I guess that makes sense in a way, because since junior year of high school, I have been in a perpetual state of feeling left behind. Behind in artistic ability; behind in academics; behind in fitness; behind in the practice of law, and most recently, behind in my ability to create consistently good content on various social media platforms…even though it’s supposed to be a goddamned hobby that brings me joy. Problem is, I turn everything into a competition (I’m not really in to Zodiac shit, but I’ve been told it’s a Capricorn thing?), so in reality, nothing I ever do will be for fun. 

Oh well. 

So I rush to be the expert in all things and it’s fucking exhausting. This past week, I was running low on creativity until I found out that our local Renaissance faire would be showing up fashionably late this year and got embarrassingly excited (it’s all outside, btw and will require masks and I will be practicing what I have always practiced: social distancing. Like, ew. I’ve never been keen on people invading my bubble.) This provided much hungered-for inspiration as it was time to officially upgrade and update my various characters’ makeup since I literally had ALL of 2020 to work on makeup-ing skills. 

One of the characters that is makeup-heavy is my “Gypsy” character. I put that word in quotations and capitalize it because that’s all she is: a character. I don’t have a better word than “Gypsy,” because that’s what that type of character has been called since my first foray into the Ren-Faire scene 19 (Jesus FUCK) years ago. To all you Zoomers: get fucked. Take your over-sensitivity elsewhere.  I’m living my best life pretending to be a fantastical creature and escaping from having lived through one of  (if not THEE) worst terrorist attacks on U.S. soil, a recession, a LITERAL DICTATOR (and the realization that AMERICANS PUT HIM IN OFFICE); burn-out, but like…actual extinguishment and a two-week half vacation hasn’t been enough to re-charge; erosion of the very core of our country’s existence; ASSHOLE COUNSEL (fuck you guys); systemic misogyny; the death of two family members, a terrifying and deadly illness in another family member who I will literally set the earth on FIRE for, IDGAF. TRY MY, UNIVERSE…and weight gain. 

Like. 

It’s been rough. 

But I digress.

What I meant  to say was: Spend time on your hobbies, and don’t feel bad for doing so. 

I rushed through art projects and workouts, and makeup looks for no other reason than I felt I was being left behind. Please don’t feel that. No one is timing you. No one is judging you (and if they  are, slash they’re tires in the dead of night, but make sure not to reference me or this blog post). You. Do. You. At your own pace. 

For me, that meant slowing down on my makeup. It meant taking an hour to get the winged liner just right. It meant moisturizing and priming my face; it meant cleaning ALL of my makeup applicators (brushes, sponges, spoolies, etc.); it meant going S.L.O.W. on blending and placement. 

And when I tell you it was m e d i t a t i o n, I mean it was spiritual. Just to allow myself the luxury of time to myself and what I loved was something exquisite. Like flipping the pillow to the cool side; or taking that first sip of hot cocoa on a cold day; or the feeling you get seeing your loved one walking through the front door after work or seeing her or his name as an incoming call on your smart phone. 

It is the process, not the end result that counts. 

I don’t know how many times I’ve spent hours on a look that turns out like garbage. But I’ve never regretted spending my time once. So , from one incredibly busy and stressed out person to another: give yourself the gift of time to do something you really love. I promise you wont regret it.