Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Glitter and Glue- the Goo That Binds

I like glitter. I like it on home-made cards and pasted pictures. I love the fine powdering version on Christmas cards that depict iridescent snow or glowing ornaments. I am drawn to it. It always hooks and entices me. This attraction, however, has to be monitored and kept in check, less it become a burden.

I am drawn to sparkly, shiny things. Fortunately, I have enough sense, or skill, or have been beaten down by the disapproving looks of others, to self-monitor. I would otherwise buy shiny, glittery items of clothing and then feel deeply saddened that I wouldn’t be able to wear any. I like glitter, I just don't like a great deal of attention.

I have had the proper experiences to know that too much glitter on your personage is directly linked to attention seeking or attention hoarding. Nonetheless, I occasionally wear a sequin-embellished shirt or skirt, camisole, or sweater. A little glitter goes a long way. Less is more in this realm.

This attraction could be linked to my early childhood. I was born in Queens, of little means. I lived within walking distance of my grandparents and walk there we did, often. My grandmother encouraged my artistic leanings, or she simply had little else to offer. Glitter, glue, scissors, paper- manna to my little hands and eyes. Ecstasy. Maybe it was the decadence of it. Giving young children glitter is sometimes seen as the equivalent of offering cake to a diabetic, matches to an arsonist- no good comes from this. Glitter, like Legos, multiplies, gets stuck in odd places and take years, maybe decades to eradicate. (Unlike the binkys that disappear before making contact with the ground-proof of spontaneous combustion.) Glitter, the thrill, the sugar to the hyperactive. More is more in this realm.

My grandmother, Nanny, set up a card table and let me and my siblings go to town. I, however stayed longest. Cutting, collaging, gluing, creating scraps and snippets of great interest. Random pieces of yarn and string, buttons and sequins also found their way to my designs and fabrications. Each tiny fragment admired, or discarded after thoughtful and intentional viewings.

In later years, I had friends who laughed at my use of glitter. Maybe, actually, they scoffed at my permissiveness around the use of glitter in the same proximity of small children. To be brutally honest with myself and to honor their viewpoints, they hissed at the existence of glitter and their own children within a 20 mile radius of each other. Like I said at the beginning, I had friends who laughed.

I have been thinking of my true friends lately, and how these diverse and distinct people have found their way into my life. Some, like glitter, shine and sparkle, and of course reflect light onto me, making me dazzle. Some, like glitter, have gotten into the very tiny creases and crevices- at times a nuisance, but impossible to release and often in the right light they still sparkle unexpectedly reminding me of good times, as well as, hard times shared, and some, like glitter, are permanently affixed to my very being. I like glitter.

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