The lone fairy at Burning Man, 2003.

My husband and I have a recurring discussion about a certain imbalance in our relationship, which is that he goes to work every morning in his suit and tie and is bombarded with people all day long and I stay home in my grubby, baggy paint clothes where I work on my own all day long.  I may deal with clients here and there on the phone, at my shows and in other ways, but for the most part I am alone most of the time.  Even weekends aren’t much different, as his desperate need for alone time is in full force once he has the opportunity to take advantage of it, so I even find myself on my own on a Saturday or Sunday at a museum, the farmer’s market or on the couch with a good book.  Most of my awake time is spent alone, on any given day at any time of the year.

I have written previously of trying to accept who I am more than trying to "fix" what I think might be "better" or what I perhaps wish were different, and this is a perfect example of one of these instances.  There is part of me that feels like I ought to make more effort to interact with people on a more regular basis even though I do have a very active social life and my husband and I have dinner guests to our house at least once or twice every week.  I am not a recluse as much as I have become more introverted over the years, which simply means that I re-fuel my energy reserves by spending time alone.  I love being part of a wide social circle, but if all I did was run around socializing I would collapse from exhaustion.  It could easily be said of me that I spend a wee bit too much time alone, but I also know very well that my alone time is vital to my well-being, my creative process and my ability to give 100% of my attention and energy to whomever I am with whenever I do spend time with my friends.  I need both – wild, crazy nights of laughter so loud and raucous it makes the people at the table next to us look over and time afterward to re-group.  I talk to my best friend – who lives across the country – on the phone multiple times a week, I am an email fanatic, I love sending silly things in the mail and I love planning parties.  I can talk to just about anyone and have made friends with people in my neighborhood who I see every week such as the guys in the seafood department at Gelson’s, my dry cleaner, the woman at the tailor, the women who own my favorite gift shop in Santa Monica and even the shoe repairman.  I am very social but in many ways a loner.

What does this mean?  Nothing really, except that it is an exercise in, once again, acceptance.  Maybe it would be "better" if I didn’t spend so much time at home alone, but it happens to work for me and it has worked for me ever since I was a little girl with no siblings.  I have the sweetest memories of spending hours on my own in the woods near our house, digging up worms, making mud pies, exploring crystal clear creeks and riding my plastic, lime green skateboard all over the neighborhood.  I am an only child and the daughter of a Marine, so I grew up learning how to have fun on my own and make friends easily.  Since we moved a lot I had to make friends quickly before we packed up again and I headed to a new school. 

It is so interesting to look back into my past and see how it shaped and led me to the place I am right now, to see how much it all makes sense, really.  To see how I became who I truly was at an incredibly young age and I haven’t really changed much since then.  I have become smarter (I hope), perhaps a bit wiser, but the essence of who I am and how I live my life right now is clearly a direct result of what I experienced and who I was as a young girl.  I could only have become an artist.  It makes perfect sense that I am a gipsy who has lived in more than 30 different homes.  And, yes, I probably spend a little bit too much time alone.  But it is all OK, it is all part of a journey I started many years ago when I used to catch fireflies on warm summer nights and quench my thirst with the first garden hose I could find.  When I needed nothing more than a sprinkler to entertain me for hours, and I made my very own slip & slide with my grandparents’ plastic tablecloths.  I’m still that girl.  And she’s just fine, exactly the way she is.