Jessica K Darling: Giveaway, Letting Go, Laying Low, Ebb and Flow.

"Don't clean the crime scene cause time means money
Don't need visine when my eyes seem bloody
I see dead people, but who doesn't?
We walk undercover, deadpan blending in with other human puppets
Discussing nothing but the sports and weather
If I stare long enough they all morph together
Then I freak out, it'll blow my cover
So I just keep out, no, we don't know each other
I'm on the road to recovery, no GPS
Hoist in my sails ‘till the sea breeze rests
Suck wind if you wanna player hate
Day to day I use my fear of falling asleep to stay awake
I appear psychic-like, but I'm not a psychic
You're just predictable with no fight left to fight it"

Yesterday the new Sage Francis album, Copper Gone, was released. It's the first body of music that Sage has released in four years. I thought it only fitting it was released yesterday, but I'll get back to that in a hot minute. The album is dark and moody. It retains such a "traditional" Sage feel to it- back to the DIY drums and tape-deck DJ sound that core fans will truly appreciate. It has remnants of Personal Journals with its raw diary of the past four years- Sage went thru a breakup, health issues, deaths in the family- I feel for obvious reasons so much relativity in this album to the life I've been living. I feel it's the best album he's made in recent years. I know LI(F)E had a lot of critical acclaim, but I felt it lacked the depth that its predecessor has.

I was up late last nite, doodling in this new journal that I bought recently. I attribute the new scratch-book to the lack of blog posting lately.

journal entry about my mama using vellum and sharpie, found papers, Amy Butler cardstock, an old San Francisco map and some colored pencils.

I was thinking about everything going on in California while I'm steadily packing up my fabric, taking time to pet it and sometimes to stitch up little WIPS that I see laying around. Each project strikes a particular memory of where I was at the time I was sewing it the first time. Most of these memories were of me stressed out, emotionally deficit, sewing to forget. When I was avoiding my failing marriage, I starting cutting jelly roll strips in my favorite colors out of my favorite designers. I didn't measure, just cut and cut and cut. When I felt like I had a satisfying pile, I started sewing the world's largest jelly roll quilt. When I look at it in hindsight, I'm so glad I got divorced! If I hadn't, we quilters might have had the world's largest jelly roll quilt on our hands, and that's a record I really don't want to be proud to own. I'm sure it would have blanketed the entire city of Austin at one point. It finally tipped the scales at a slender 130" square. Do you know else makes 130" quilts? 150-year old ladies waiting to die. LOL. *Life flashes before eyes* I'm a modern-day Miss Havisham. "They will come at me here...."

I imagine the type of ladies that make 130" quilts on a consistent basis look a little like this.

It freaked me out when I unearthed this quilt recently in my archive of projects unfinished. At first I wanted to pitch it in the trash; burn it on its sacrificial pyre of bad decisions along with all of my tube tops, DMX cd's from junior high and photos of Fat Jessica. Then I realized that, like the others (except the tube tops, they can go), it was an extremely valuable piece of my history. I didn't want to keep it, or at least all of it. I split it up into parts and made smaller quilts out of it. I decided to give these normal-human-sized quilts to the friends of mine that really helped me when I was struggling last summer.

I also kept a sliver for myself and made it into a bed quilt. I have never really made myself a properly sized me-quilt.

Beautiful new beginnings, you and me.

I backed it in Amy Butler voile (of course I did) and I said a prayer after I bound it. I blessed it for the lessons it taught me, I blessed it for the peaceful rest it will now provide for me.

Packing has never been an easy task for me, not because I'm not efficient or good at it, but because I'm the type of person that puts tremendous emotional attachment into chotskies and knick-knacks, old concert tickets, letters from friends, and the like. I even feel for some of the clothes in my closet. I saved an old dress of my moms when she died, even though it doesn't fit. It just reminds me of my favorite times with my mom and my sister. As I toss, donate, rehome, sell, fold and pack, I see my life in my personal effects. I'm carrying so much weight from these items. Dead mom stuff. Old school awards. 87,000 quilts that never get used for trunks shows or favorite tv shows. I feel like Fat Jessica all over again, except I'm not shedding baby fat, I'm shedding emotional weight; the intangible kind that only I can see and feel. It makes me question how much a person truly needs to live and be happy. I thought I'd be scared to get rid of my most prized colored Samsonite suitcases, or my small painted chairs from the shop, things like that, but I'm feeling happier and lighter. I let go of a lot of relationships recently that were dragging me down or not serving a purpose in my life as well. This was also a huge burden lifted. I'd rather have four quarters than one hundred pennies. Heard?

I'm trying to head out West a little sooner than later and it's really important in this proverbial weight-shedding about which I've been musing. I've talked about this many times, but for the sake of my new readers, I'll drop some background. In 2008, one of my dearest friends was the victim of a violent crime. He was stabbed over 20 times in his car in the middle of the night. The cause of his death was jealous rage- a crime of passion. For years since this event, I've obsessed over it. My only way to cope with what happened was to follow the legal proceedings carefully and discerningly. For over five years, this case has been postponed over 12 times for various ancillary reasons. Yesterday, the moment our family and friends has been waiting for finally happened. It has definitely caused an emotional grade-school-science-project-volcano feeling in the pit of my stomach. We are all on pins and needles waiting for the outcome. Seven long weeks to go. I'd like to be there for as much of this as possible, as part of my healing process but also to support Mark's mom, our friends, and the Turlock community as a whole. Please pray and think good thoughts for my friends and me as we enter the final healing process.