On Cards and Beauty

Hello Escritori,

O.T. card-making is in force while I try to get test results and doctor’s appointments.

I’m de-stress crafting. I had some découpage flowers with a little button centre. I thought, what about a mermaid’s head design with layered-paper flowers in her hair?

CUT TO: Freehand drawing of a silhouette that resembles… well.. a well-coiffed Jesus (a.s.) and I’m all: Gah! Okay, there has to be a way to salvage this… I end up tearing the card in half, folding the plain half over into a smaller card.

For me, this is the year of gift days that feel like Valentine’s, experiences you should ABSOLUTELY enjoy on your own. This, in between feeling quite shite mentally, pondering someone lovely, happy to put up with me; and putting-the-world-to-rights lunches (cake obligatory) with TBG.

I broke up with one of my friends from school recently, and she said: “You have always been one of the loveliest, shiniest people I’ve ever met. But I understand and I respect your decision.”


My head said: “But we never talk anymore, ever. But I’ve outgrown you, but honestly all we ever do is talk about you and your job. I don’t have a job…. “OR, “but I pretty much broke friends with you completely when we were sixteen, if not fourteen… “And of course there’s the obvious one, “but I can’t do this because I’ve had the crap emotionally kicked out of me, and I really just don’t want to be your friend any more I’m sorry.”  

In actuality I was much more mercifully brief.

Then after lunch, TBG (my not-so-often mentioned-these-days friend, now busy studying Art) and I sat at a café table and she suddenly interrupted my verbal diarrhoea to say, with genuine affection: “Pola, you’re so beautiful. Aww, you’re so beautiful.”

What if I’m never lovely and shiny again, because I hurt my friend? I didn’t even know I was lovely and shiny the first time. Compliments often feel toxic. Beauty, just is, I suppose, but I hate that it has no FUNCTION.

All my life, I’ve asked myself, what the hell is beauty for?  

As art, (the above really isn’t Art) beauty is relief? Catharsis. But human beauty… it’s one of those things where (supposedly) having it doesn’t advance your understanding of it, in the slightest. It makes me want to confront people and ask what are you really seeing?

Keep scribbling,

~ Pola ~


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