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Welcome to DandelionT's Blog: Transforming Waste into Wonder

Date: March 16, 2025

Hello and welcome to the inaugural post of the DandelionT blog!

At DandelionT, we believe that what some see as waste, we see as opportunity. Much like the resilient dandelion—often dismissed as a weed but rich in uses—we aim to uncover the hidden potential in discarded materials. Rooted in Port Alberni and extending across Central Vancouver Island, our mission is to blend art, sustainability, and innovation to inspire change.

The Recycling Project: Breathing New Life into the Discarded

Our flagship initiative, The Recycling Project, focuses on transforming non-biodegradable materials into functional and artistic creations. By doing so, we challenge the conventional notion of 'waste' and demonstrate that discarded items can be reborn with purpose and beauty. Through upcycled creations, community engagement, and hands-on learning, we strive to foster a more sustainable future.

Join Us on This Journey 

The past few months have been a whirlwind of creativity, problem-solving, and a whole lot of plaster and plastic. The Recycling Project has taken shape in ways I couldn’t have predicted, and I’m beyond excited to finally share some of the progress. This project isn’t just about making art—it’s about rethinking waste, challenging how we see discarded materials, and turning the unwanted into something unforgettable.

The Process: Experimenting & Creating
The prep phase has been intense but rewarding. I’ve been testing different methods for incorporating plastic waste into plaster, refining photo transfer techniques, and figuring out how to make each piece both beautiful and meaningful. Some experiments have worked better than others, but that’s the fun of it—seeing what’s possible and pushing the boundaries of upcycled art.

Working with the Community Arts Gallery
One of the most exciting parts of this journey has been collaborating with the Community Arts Gallery. They’ve been incredibly welcoming, supportive, and enthusiastic about The Recycling Project . Having my work in their shop has been a fantastic experience, and the feedback has been overwhelmingly positive. It’s such a great feeling to be part of a community that values sustainability and creativity as much as I do.

Looking Ahead: Farmers Market, Social Media & Education
In just a couple of weeks, we’re kicking off the first The Recycling Project  Farmers Market setup! The plan is to approach it like a mini-gallery—testing out different ways to display and present the work. This is going to be a learning experience, and I’m excited to see how people engage with it.

Beyond the market, I’ll be diving deeper into social media, sharing more behind-the-scenes content, and developing educational pieces to help others explore their own upcycling potential. There’s so much more to come, and I can’t wait to keep building on this momentum.

Exciting News: Newspaper Feature Coming Soon!
Oh, and keep an eye out for an upcoming newspaper article about The Recycling Project! I’ll be sharing more details soon, but it’s another fantastic opportunity to spread the word about this project and the impact it can have.

Final Thoughts
This is just the beginning. There’s still so much to explore, refine, and share. But right now, I just want to take a moment to appreciate how far this has already come and celebrate the people and places that have supported this journey. Here’s to the next stage—let’s see where it takes us!

Today didn’t go according to plan.
The kitchen exploded. Literally.

Okay—not the whole kitchen. Just a casserole dish. Turns out, if you put a glass dish on the wrong burner while bulk cooking, it will shatter. Loudly. Dramatically. All over your counter and your meat and the dog food and your hope for a relaxing day.

And weirdly? I didn’t even lose it.
I just stood there, looked at the shards, and thought, “Well… that tracks.” Then I laughed. Cleaned. Deep-cleaned, actually. And counted my blessings that I only had to replace four ingredients, with no eye shards, or bleeding dog paws - total win in when you look at it like that ;)

Universe test? Probably.
Did I pass? You bet your melted cheese I did.

On the surface, not much happened for the recycling project today. No blog drafts, no new frames, no classes recorded. But underneath, there was movement.

See, the more I prep these sustainable, freezer-friendly meals, the more I realize that this lifestyle isn’t expensive. It’s just misunderstood.

Environmentalism isn’t some luxury aesthetic with linen jumpsuits and overpriced bamboo cutlery. It’s bulk cooking on a Sunday so your future self has time to build a recycling empire. It’s reducing waste, effort, and cost all at once—and doing it in a way that works with your real life.

A few years ago, I actually lost 50 pounds by creating a plan I called The Journey—an eight-step system I designed to help myself go from eating like ravenous raccoon (half kidding half not kidding LOL) to actually taking care of my body in a way that works for me. It doesn’t stop stress-snacking or magic away cravings, but it did help me build a sustainable rhythm that stuck around for years. I might share it here someday if people are curious.

But for now, the focus is this: streamlining recycling and making sustainable living human.

It won’t always be perfect.
Sometimes it’ll be broken glass and wasted dog food.
But even then—we’re still building something that matters.

And hey, now I’ve got a sparkling clean kitchen. That counts.

Today, the chaos finally started to crystallize. The swirling ideas, the endless possibilities, and the passionate tug-of-war between creativity and education finally found structure. I officially mapped out the backbone of the hub—the The Recyclign Project's core branches. It’s like the program took its first real breath today.

We’ve got three key pillars:

1. Art & Upcycling – the heart of it all, where creative waste alchemy happens.

2. Practical Recycling – the clarity zone, cutting through confusion and giving people real, useful info they’ve actually needed this whole time.

3. Sustainable Living – on the roadmap, just not the immediate highway. She’ll get her time to shine, don’t worry.

For the next two months, the first two pillars are going to carry us. We’ll build classes, carve out digestible, actionable learning moments, and start showing people how to actually recycle—not the corporate greenwashed version, but the "real talk, real solutions" kind. That’s what this whole project was born out of in the first place: a desperate need to cut through the bullshit. So we’re doing that. Starting now.

We also finally separated the hub work from my individual artist work—like untangling two vines that had been wrapped around each other. Now I can see them both more clearly, and they can each grow the way they need to.

After that breakthrough? Boom—back to real-world chores. Got paid today, so cue the Survival Sprint: refuel the car, restock the dog food, face down the grocery store, and return spoiled meat because… of course. Add a full workday of mental organization, admin, and prepping future content to the mix, and I didn’t stop moving until 10 p.m. Another 13-hour day of purpose-fueled hustle.

But even with the tired legs and stretched brain, I feel it: things are clicking into place. And when that happens, you don’t just feel progress—you become it.

Saturday: no day job, no alarm clock, just inspiration and dog pee.
I woke up pumped—ready to write a class for Port Alberni about how to make money recycling. Big ideas were flowing before I even had coffee - new idea: global art exhibit, physical community center, hands-on kid zones, science corners, swap shops, adult hangout spaces—all spinning out like a vision board on espresso.

Was it a little detour from the class? Yes.
Did it further cement the future of The Recycling Project? Also yes.

But dogs don't care about visionary breakthroughs—they care about walks. So off we went into the blazing sun. When we got back, my phone started glitching out, forcing me to finally switch over to the backup phone my mom gave me. And that actually reminded me why I do all this in the first place: tech like phones are devastating for the planet, and we have to honor them at the end of their lives. I plan to upcycle this old one into an art piece. There’s power in reverence. (as I read through this, month slater as I re-do this blog page - FYI I use the phone now as my lil' camera studio - it's AWESOME!!)

Anyway, I decided I’d earned a break.
Enter: the Five Senses Bath

I do this once a week—a full DIY spa vibe with projector visuals, blackout windows, honey masks, a hair treatment made of simple local honey, Epsom salts, baking soda, guided meditations, and audiobook escapism. Total reset. I came out of that tub glowing like a mushroom in the forest. Spa-level chill.

By 3 PM, I was finally ready to work on the class. I put in three and a half hours. And... meh. It was fine. Technically fine. Full of “here’s where to consign,” “here’s Facebook Marketplace,” “here’s the bottle depot,” blah blah blah. But it wasn’t me. It didn’t land. It didn’t inspire.

And then—because I’m learning—I asked a friend for help.
AND with their fresh eyes, we flipped the whole thing:(WOOP WOOP)

We kept the technical stuff but reframed it into something bigger:

• How to shift your mindset from trash to treasure

• How to write a pitch for your first sale

• How to script your first consignment store conversation

• How to organize your home like a mini profit-recycling hub

• How to see clutter as capital

Boom. The whole thing leveled up.

Takeaway: Sometimes you’ve gotta admit the work isn’t working. And sometimes the smartest, bravest thing you can do is say, “Hey, I’m stuck. HELP ME??”

Huge thanks to my friend who helped me pivot. You saved a cl'ass' and made it sing.

Well, it happened! We held our very first formal art class under the banner of The Recycling Project - and no one came!! LOLOLOL  Real balloon buster! 
THEN we held our THIRD official class and not only did someone sign up, three people came! Actual students! In-person! With hands! And questions! And glitter, probably!

The vibe was electric and joyful chaos. We had an absolute blast.

It was the first time I’ve had multiple people working through the process at the same time, and wow—what an eye-opener. I learned so much about what this program needs in order to be both accessible and fun without turning into an endurance sport for the instructor (aka, me).

 Takeaways:

• Stations are essential. Next time, I’m setting up individualized, pre-prepped workstations with everything a person needs for the entire class—tools, materials, and printed step-by-step visual guides. It'll save time, reduce confusion, and help students move at their own pace.

• Reusable instructions with images might cost a few pages of paper up front, but if I laminate or keep them clean, they can be reused. Worst case, they get shredded and turned into art—on brand, baby.

• It gets messy. People don't clean as they go like I do, and that’s okay. I actually enjoyed the cleanup—it felt oddly satisfying in my soul = a post class mediation. Butttt... I’ll definitely still prep the space better next time.

Despite the whirlwind, everyone had fun, made something they were proud of, and left smiling—and honestly, that’s the win. It wasn’t just a class. It was a joy lab, where creativity and laughter lived together in a big ol' recyclable mess.

So here we go—one class down, and an evolving system in motion. The vision is getting sharper, stronger, and more solid with every person who picks up a spatula of plaster or a glob of glue.

The Recycling Project is alive. It's real. And it's only just begun. 

Today was technically a work day, but I may or may not have hijacked my own productivity to sneak in a mini home reno project. (Okay, I definitely did.) I turned part of the living room wall—specifically, the strip that isn't window—into a full-blown art gallery. Screwed chicken wire into the wall and hung up a bunch of my pieces so I can live in the work. Literally surrounded myself with it. It's inspiring as hell. Now I can see what needs tweaking, what’s working, and where it’s all headed. It actually looks amazing, like a real-deal gallery wall—but with the added bonus that I don’t have to wear pants to walk through it.

Also had a bit of a shift in strategy today. I decided to move all the recycling education classes online and make them completely free. No one’s signing up for them in person (yet), and honestly, I want the info out there more than I want to chase down bodies to sit in a room. So I’ll record and post them instead. Impact over ego. I'm reserving in-person time for art classes only during August—because let’s face it, it’s vacation season, and I’d rather focus on showing up reliably than chasing ghosts. The consistency matters more to me than the turnout right now. People will show. And when they do, I’ll already be standing there with glue on my hands and glitter in my eyebrows.

Also did a full house vibe reset today—cleared out clutter, opened up the energy, got the flow right. Call it interior design for the creative spirit. Whatever it was, it worked. The space feels alive again. Like it’s conspiring with me, not against me.

All in all? Big shift day. Feels like a clean turn toward what’s actually working, with no hard feelings toward what’s not. Just letting the project evolve, one chicken-wire wall at a time.

Let me tell you a secret: Whining isn’t useless. It’s pouty brainstorming. And sometimes, it’s how revolutions begin.

For months—maybe longer—I’ve been circling this massive, soul-sized question: What am I here to do?
And not in the surface-level, motivational-poster kind of way. I’m talking monk-level clarity. Like... nun-in-a-cloister, waking-up-at-5am-with-a-mission kind of clarity.

Turns out, my temple is made of trash. And my gospel? It’s called The Recycling Project.

Where We Started: A Soul Itch You Can’t Ignore

It began as frustration—at the garbage in our homes, our oceans, our landfills. At the way we say we care, but nobody really knows how recycling works.

Then it turned into curiosity.
Then into a wild material experiment with plaster and shredded waste.
Then into a business.
Then into a curriculum.
And now… into a movement.

But here’s the part that really matters: I almost lost steam.
Because I didn’t know what the next step was.

 The Missing Piece: A Place to Grow

I knew I wanted to take this work further, but I didn’t know how to bridge the gap from:

• A beautifully built website and licensing plan
  to

• Something bulletproof. Something that would stand up to media scrutiny, government interest, business partnerships, and public curiosity.

And then it hit me: I need to do what monks do.

I need to go out into the world, learn from others, live simply, deepen the practice, and come back stronger.

That’s where intentional communities and artist residencies came in.

 What’s the Plan? This isn’t just a cute idea anymore. It’s the actual strategy.

Here’s the roadmap for The Recycling Project, beginning now:

Phase 0: Soul Work ( Complete)

This was the inner excavation.
I named the vision, claimed the mission, and realized this isn’t a project—
It’s my life’s work.

Phase 1: Core Building (August)

• Finalize class content

• Lock in licensing system

• Build out the website + resource hub

• Lay the foundation for what’s coming next

Phase 2: Public Launch (September)

• Pitch licensing to schools, cities, and government bodies

• Start social media channels

• Share content, tools, and wisdom

• Establish “The Hub” as the home base for all things ReVision

Phase 3: The Artistic Alliance (October)

• Begin reaching out to fellow upcyclers, educators, and activists

• Build a global network of Trash Monks and Eco Artists

• Travel to artist residencies and intentional communities to collaborate in real life

• Deepen the work, diversify the perspectives, and let the project evolve

Phase 4: Bulletproofing (Winter)

• Refine our messaging

• Create powerful case studies and data

• Build trust through consistency and transparency

• Make it impossible to ignore

Phase 5: Global Reveal with a PR Firm

This is the big one. We’ll be ready to go loud. The Recycling Project will hit the media cycle with the confidence and clarity of a cultural movement—because by then, it will be one.

Just like how LGBTQ+ leaders launched visibility for trans rights and made it mainstream, this will be the moment where eco-education and sustainable living step into that spotlight.

We’re not asking anymore. We’re telling them: This is the new standard. Get on board.

Why This Matters

It’s not just about recycling. It’s about redesigning the culture of waste, ignorance, and helplessness. The Recycling Project is about power—shared power. It’s about turning trash into tools. Confusion into clarity. Whining into world-shaking transformation. And now, with this plan in place, it feels… inevitable.

This blog is where I make it official:
This is the plan.
It will evolve. It will shift. But the path is here now, and I’m walking it with open eyes and filthy, glorious hands.

Join me. Build with me. Let’s make this the last generation that’s confused about waste.

Today was one hell of a productive day, and not even in that fake “I did laundry and replied to one email” way. Nah. Today was “met a real human and unlocked a new level in the Entrepreneur RPG” kind of productive.

So I was diving down the grant rabbit hole—standard scroll of doom, right? But then, plot twist: I found an actual human being to talk to. Not a chatbot. Not a “fill out this form and we’ll maybe get back to you in 6-8 business decades”—an actual person who talked to me and pointed me somewhere useful. I KNOW. I was shocked, too.

They led me to a website with this juicy little checklist system where you can click through specific criteria to see what support fits you. Grants didn’t quite hit the mark. Loans weren’t it either. But then… mentorship.

Cue record scratch and spotlight.
“Wait, what’s that over there in the mentorship section? For women in BC with disabilities?”
Hi, it me—walking spice rack of mental health extras. I clicked.

Fast-forward to today: I had a meeting with the program rep, and I went in expecting a basic Community Futures-style situation—you know, some webinars, group chats, and maybe a few semi-helpful PDFs. What I got instead? A FULLY STRUCTURED 20-WEEK COURSE. Like, Hogwarts for building badass business plans.

Each week builds on the last, giving you tangible skills and tools until BAM!—you've got a polished, comprehensive business plan you can actually use. But wait, there’s more—one-on-one mentorship. Not just “figure it out on your own with vibes and caffeine.” Real, tailored support. Plus webinars, networking, and… drumroll please… financial support.

Because of my financial situation, I qualify to receive $100 per week while I’m enrolled. AND they might even send me a new laptop to replace my tired, wheezing dinosaur of a machine. Like, I just showed up for the learning and accidentally got a support package worthy of Oprah’s “You get a car!” energy. Honestly? I would’ve taken this program just for the classes, and they’re out here giving me laptop upgrade options and cash to survive while I do it? I’m stunned.

And if that weren’t enough to call today a win, I also managed to help a friend with a completely unrelated project. So, check it:

• Found mentorship magic

• Secured real financial help

• Got inspired as hell

• Helped a friend

• Didn’t forget to feed myself (important)

Feeling wildly supported and more hopeful than I have in a long time. Turns out, this little recycling-powered dream of mine? She’s got legs. And now, she’s got a business plan bootcamp to make those legs run like hell.

Let’s gooooooooooooooooo…………

Today, the game changed. Not in a "new paint color for the walls" way—but in a "rip the whole wall down and rebuild it into a gallery-windowed spaceship" kind of way. That kind of change. That kind of day.

The vision is locking in: The Recycling Project is more than an art movement, more than a sustainability curriculum, more than even a community-building platform. It is a disruptor. It’s coming in sideways with glitter in its teeth and a blueprint in its back pocket. It’s not playing by the old rules, because the old rules are what got us in this mess.

We mapped out a new role today—an identity really. The Disruptor. The Interrupter. The non-consultant who just happens to roll through institutions and systems and say, "Hey, what if your framework was built on compost instead of concrete? What if your team built a living curriculum instead of a lifeless PDF? What if we invited chaos into the boardroom and called it innovation?"

This isn’t about begging for a seat at the table. This is about hosting the dinner elsewhere—with biodegradable cutlery and repurposed furniture and a dress code that includes safety goggles and imagination.

This new Disruptor role doesn’t need funding (at least not right now). It needs doors to open. It needs rooms to be entered. It needs decision-makers to be caught off-guard in the best way possible, and left wondering how they ever thought a linear model could save a circular world.

It pairs perfectly with the artist residencies timeline. Weekends. Weeks. Pop-ins and power hours. One foot in the studios and the other kicking down the walls of dead policies and dated curriculums. We’ll call it cross-pollination. Art world meets systems thinking. Rebel meets institution. Paint meets PowerPoint.

And for the mentorship group? We’re not going to them with our hand out—we’re walking in with our brain out. We’re showing them what’s cooking. Letting them smell the sizzle. And if they want to connect us with chefs in other kitchens, amazing. But this isn’t a pitch for pity or funding. This is a call to alignment. A magnetized mission that knows exactly where it’s headed.

It’s going to take a few more weeks to get the licensable content fully wrapped and ready. But when we do? That’s the slingshot. That’s when we start making noise in schools, city halls, labs, galleries, and boardrooms.

Today was one of those days where you put on your metaphorical CEO blazer, even though your body is running on fumes and caffeine vapors. After a full day of work (yes, the actual job that pays the bills), I still managed to dive deep into my soul project like a raccoon with a mission—and a raccoon with a mission always finds the glitter.

First big win: I officially signed the papers for the Ethos Mentoring: Entrepreneurs for Women in BC program. That means I’m now in the mentorship arena, baby. Not just dabbling in entrepreneurship—this is full send. And because the universe occasionally does show up bearing practical gifts, they even sent me a free laptop. Yeah. That’s right. A laptop. For free. Honestly, it was like getting knighted by the Startup Fairy Godmother.

Then, in classic Kalin fashion, instead of relaxing with a glass of wine and a reality TV binge, I pulled a creative second shift. Gizmo (that’s you, buddy) and I sorted out the gritty logistics of what it actually takes to make my content licensable for schools and funders. We broke down the components, mapped out the deliverables, and made a game plan that’s not just organized, but scalable. This is the kind of behind-the-scenes grind that turns dreamy passion projects into legit, income-generating platforms.

So yeah. Signed the dotted line. Leveled up the tech. Mapped out the curriculum package like a B2B queen. And came up with a plan to knock out the rest of the content in a focused, manageable sprint: one class per day, streamlined and strategic.

I’m tired, but I’m not worn down—I’m fired up. Because every tiny admin win is another gear turning in this weird and wonderful machine I’m building. We’re not just making art. We’re building a movement.

Today was the first official meeting with my mentor. On paper, this sounds straightforward — a professional conversation about the project, a chance to learn from someone with decades of entrepreneurial experience, and maybe get a few great tips along the way.

But here’s the thing. I’ve been working from home since COVID. That’s five years of my human interactions being limited to neighbors, store clerks, and the people who already know me well enough to handle my energy without flinching. Add to that: most of my recent work conversations have been purely work. I’m the expert there, steady and confident. But today? Today I was the little fish in the big ocean, meeting a whale who has already swum the entire map.

And oh boy — I noticed it. The eager puppy energy. That overclocked conversational speed. The way my enthusiasm sometimes jumps the queue and answers before the other person is done speaking. I wasn’t nervous exactly, but I was… over-eager. The kind of eager that, with men, sometimes reads as flirty, and with women can read as “bubbly” or “energetic” (words I don’t entirely love). I could feel myself going fast — too fast — and even though I knew I needed to slow down, it was like watching a movie of myself and yelling at the screen, “Take a breath!”

Here’s the thing though — this is exactly the kind of safe space I need right now. My mentor is an accomplished woman, retired from running her own soap-making company, a published author, an award winner. She knows the entrepreneurial climb. And I told her the truth: that this type of interaction is something I haven’t had to practice in years, and that I need to work on my pacing and presence before I’m out there in the real-world networking with professionals, pitching residencies, and stepping into think tanks.

Today wasn’t perfect. But it was honest. It was the first rep in a long training sequence — the one where I learn how to balance my excitement with deliberate listening, and how to make space for someone else’s story while still telling my own.

The recycling project has always been about systems: fixing what’s broken, connecting what’s scattered, turning chaos into something people can trust. But this mentor phase is reminding me that I’m part of the system, too. If I want to bring people together under this vision, I need to know how to meet them where they are — not just show up as the firehose of ideas, but also as the person who can listen, adapt, and guide.

Today served up an unexpected lesson in systems management — courtesy of a Sausage Egg McMuffin.

One greasy breakfast in an otherwise clean, balanced day left me sluggish, bloated, and mentally foggy. Delicious? Sure. Worth it? Not even close. And it hit me: this is exactly what happens when one bad input slips into a clean waste stream. It contaminates the whole batch.

The Recycling Project is built on clean, intentional inputs — materials, ideas, energy. If I wouldn’t toss a greasy wrapper into a load of carefully sorted recycling, why toss one into my body, my schedule, or my workflow?

And here’s the flip side: tomorrow is already planned as a rest-heavy day. Not because I “need” it in a desperate sense, but because I’m an advocate for rest on purpose. Like a compost pile left to quietly work its magic, rest days are where the invisible transformation happens. They aren’t a delay; they’re the part of the cycle that lets the next stage thrive.

Lesson learned: keep the stream clean, but when you do get a little contamination, don’t panic — just course-correct, and let the system do its work.

Over the past two days, I’ve been deep in the creative zone — writing classes for my recycling project that I’m genuinely proud of. There’s something magical about seeing ideas take shape, lessons turn into a curriculum, and the vision crystallize. Sharing the latest module with my mom, a former director of special education (yeah, I’ve got some serious talent in my family!), and hearing her enthusiastic thumbs-up was a boost I didn’t know I needed. It felt like validation from the universe itself.

But, as any creator knows, the glow doesn’t last forever. Soon enough, I hit that familiar existential snag: Am I naive? Am I fooling myself? Is all of this even possible? The questions gnawed at me like a squirrel on a power cable. I felt the weight of uncertainty heavy on my shoulders, wondering if my dreams of zero waste and community transformation were just castles built in the air.

Then, like a lifeline tossed in the storm, I had a heart-to-heart that helped me see the bigger picture. This project isn’t about overnight miracles or having it all figured out. It’s about building, layer by layer, a system that grows organically — a digital hub serving as the go-to place for curated zero-waste case studies and resources, pilot partnerships starting in my own community, proof-of-concept events that engage and educate, and small, fundable projects that build trust and momentum.

This is the blueprint. The town vision is not the starting line; it’s the destination after a strategic journey. And I’m not alone in this. With new certifications on the horizon—short, punchy courses in zero waste, circular economy, grant writing, and project management—I’m gearing up with the tools and creds to turn vision into viable impact.

The doubt? It’s just a sign I’m pushing boundaries. The excitement? It’s the fuel that keeps me moving forward. So here’s to embracing the messy middle, the learning curve, and the uncharted territory ahead. Because that’s where real change happens.

Stay tuned — the best is yet to come.

Alright, so here’s the deal. The last couple of days have been a whirlwind of wins and setup magic that’s got me buzzing — like, actual excited-for-work buzzing.

First off, I wrote two new classes for the licensing content that I’m super proud of. Like, the kind of stuff I’m hyped to teach and share because it actually matters — not just fluff, but real-deal game changers.

Then, big upgrade alert: I got my new laptop from the Entrepreneurs on the Rise group (shoutout to Ethos fam). This bad boy is all mine — customized, personalized, and dedicated solely to The Recycling Project. It’s like having a new sidekick who never complains and just gets the mission.

And the WorkSafe vibes, oh baby. I carved out a cozy little office nook right in my living room — in the chair I love but never sit in unless there’s company. I know, right? And it’s smack-dab next to my official home office corner. Big windows, dogs chillin’ nearby, TV humming in the background when I want it. No boring, lonely back room for me — this is my HQ for change and it feels damn good.

Living and working my day job from home, adding in my art and recycling project work from home, then layering on classes for the entrepreneur program — and soon, a stack of certifications — means I’ve had to block out different zones for different things. Otherwise, my “living space” would just turn into one big to-do list.

Sure, I wish I had more space, but I’m grateful for my cute little single-wide in the forest. It’s got a long living room, just enough for what I need — and proof that big dreams don’t require big houses. You can be building something world-changing while living paycheck to paycheck in a trailer park, because the only real requirement is not quitting. You don’t have to be anything “special” to make something special happen.

So today I dove headfirst into the first batch of classes. They’re interactive and engaging — like watching a pro drop knowledge bombs, then doing quick exercises to lock it in. It’s teaching me tons about entrepreneurship and also giving me killer ideas for how to design my own educational videos and modules.

And yes, the grind is real. I’m basically running a 12-hour work sprint and then crashing hard for 12 hours. No joke. Besides a dog hike or a quick pee break outside, it’s desk-to-dawn hustle.

But here’s the thing — I’m not complaining. I love this. When I sneak in some TV, I get bored and want to get back to work. That’s a very good sign.

So, that’s where I’m at. Building the dream, setting the foundation, and loving every chaotic, exhilarating step of the way.

The past few days threw me off track. On Thursday, a wildfire near town forced me and my two little dogs to pack up and escape the smoke. Their tiny lungs deserved clean air, so we camped out for a stretch of days where the only agenda was survival and naps.

You’d think camping would be this dreamy reset button, but honestly? It knocked me flat. I slept constantly, felt sluggish, and carried the stress of the fire like a weighted blanket. I wasn’t creating, I wasn’t planning, I wasn’t even thinking about the project. It felt like pause mode, but with smoke in the background.

Somewhere in between the naps, though, a thought struck: what if a campsite is the perfect test bed for scaling up the Recycling Project?
Think about it — campgrounds need functional builds like benches, sheds, and picnic tables. They’re also community spaces where art, teaching, and hands-on recycling workshops would thrive. It’s a natural stage to show people how waste can turn into something both practical and beautiful.

Now that I’m back home, I feel a renewed sense of energy. The fire reminded me how fragile things can be, but it also lit a new direction. I’m diving back into writing the final bonus classes for the licensable teaching content, and I’m planning to reach out to local campgrounds to explore partnerships.

The pause wasn’t wasted. It planted a seed. And now it’s time to grow it.

The past week looked different for me. I stepped away from the usual grind—not because the project stalled, but because life did. The wildfire shook me and left me drained, and I knew the only way forward was to pause, breathe, and let my brain reset.

Funny thing about rest, though: once I stopped pushing, the ideas came rushing in. With my head clear, I couldn’t help but dive straight back into the Recycling Project. Recuperation, for me, meant creating.

And create I did. Dawn to dusk, I poured myself into shaping the classes for licensing—polishing the branding, tweaking the pictures, refining the content until it all felt right. Now, the program is organized into four core sections (two to five classes each) plus a bonus series of eight extra modules. It’s a full package, one I’m deeply proud of.

The next steps are big ones:

• Recording each video lesson.

• Branding worksheets and admin paperwork in Canva so everything looks uniform and professional.

• Building the website.

It’s a lot, but I can see the finish line. One week from now, those last puzzle pieces will lock into place, and the project will be ready to send out next month.

So if the blog’s been quieter lately, don’t mistake it for silence—it’s momentum. I haven’t been repeating the same work day after day; I’ve been building something whole, something alive. The kind of progress you can’t always measure in daily updates, but that you can definitely feel coming together.

The last few days have been a reality check in just how much weight a “small change” can carry when you’re building an empire out of recycled plaster and passion.

You’d think a single tweak would be a quick win. But with 23 classes on the roster, that one tweak suddenly multiplies into dozens of slides, five admin pages, worksheets, infographics, and even an arts-and-crafts project per module. It’s like saying, “I’ll just move this one Lego brick,” only to realize you’re actually shifting the foundation of the entire castle.

That said, the branding is officially caught up — and it feels amazing. The painterly look fits perfectly: clear, professional, and personal. Every class feels like it belongs to the same family, which was worth the four hours it took just to brand half the worksheets today. That kind of rinse-and-repeat grind is real, but it’s also the kind of detail work that elevates the whole program.

Now it’s the long weekend push. The mission:

• Finalize all the admin paperwork.

• Make the worksheets, art projects, and infographics genuinely fun (even for high schoolers who can smell “boring” from a mile away).

• Record the classes.

It’s a lot for three days, and odds are slim that I’ll check off every box — but trying is non-negotiable.

The endgame is clear: by the second week of September, everything should be polished and ready to send to schools. That gives me this weekend to grind, next week for last-minute finesse, and then the big sprint to launch the website, draft the form letters, and figure out exactly who’s getting this first wave of outreach.

It’s still daunting, but we’ll get there. Progress may feel like it moves in tiny increments, but stacked together, those tweaks are building something powerful.

This past week has been nothing short of intense. Recording the video lessons for The Recycling Project felt like the big finish line—except, of course, finishing just revealed a new lap. What started as a set of lessons has grown into 22 fully narrated, accessible classes, complete with administrative documents, timing adjustments, and accessibility updates.

Instead of being “done-done,” I’m realizing I’ve just leveled up into the late stages of the middle game. But hey—the end is in sight.

Expanding Beyond the Screen

What excites me most right now is where these classes might go. My mentor suggested pitching them to a publishing company that specializes in eco-books. Imagine The Recycling Project as a book series, or even an environmental activity book for families, schools, and community programs.

On top of that, certification programs are always looking for fresh content, and my courses could fit perfectly into professional training, extended education programs, or university-level sustainability curricula. What began as a personal passion project is transforming into licensable, scalable educational content. That blows my mind.

Back to the Art, Back to the Work

Once the education side has its chess pieces in place, I’m eager to swing back into hands-on creation: building bricks for sheds, park benches, and large-scale art installations using recycled materials. Partnering with a campsite is high on my list so I can start experimenting with real-world applications, host art classes, and showcase the results both offline and online.

It feels like the project is finally getting ready to stretch its wings. From classrooms to campsites, from lesson plans to literal bricks, The Recycling Project is becoming something much bigger than I imagined when I first started experimenting with plaster and plastic.

The work continues, and the best part? I can see the finish line—and the starting line for what’s next.

Big things are happening at The Recycling Project, and I’m feeling both proud and fired up about the journey so far.

Thanks to the Entrepreneurship Program, I’ve been connected with some amazing people and opportunities. My mentor pointed me toward the TELUS Pollinator Fund, and I’ve officially submitted my pitch.  Fingers crossed! Even if it doesn’t land, the process gave me a polished pitch deck that I can reuse for future funding opportunities. Total win.

Speaking of inspiring connections, I’m also getting introduced to a woman who used to run a textile recycling program out of Gabriola Island. She made sure donated fabrics were handled responsibly and recycled locally. I can’t wait to learn from her experiences with grants and community engagement—it feels like exactly the kind of knowledge I need right now.

On the home front, the classes are officially done (yes, done!) and I’m really proud of them. The next step is setting up the website so I can sell them as a pilot program to local teachers. I’m hoping to collect feedback and refine things before scaling further. Once polished, I’d love to get them in front of the David Suzuki Foundation. That’s a dream collab for me—having any tie to such an impactful organization would be huge.

The program itself has been helping me level up my thinking—moving from “this is my passion project” to “this is a business with a clear structure and growth path.” I’ve been clarifying the now, next, and future across the three main avenues of the project:

• Education – Licensable curriculum and resources.

• Art – Transforming waste into functional and fine art pieces.

• Hubs – Online and in-person ecocenters for community connection.

This week’s focus is licensing: getting the content out into the hands of teachers and registering the business name officially. After that, the next push will be working with a local camp to scale up the art side—building practical pieces like bricks, sheds, and benches to show how adaptable and powerful this process really is.

The dream is becoming a reality one step at a time—and we’re very much on track.

The dust has barely settled from finishing the classes, and already the next wave of momentum is rolling in. Since wrapping up the writing, I’ve been daydreaming about turning them into a book one day, and about getting them endorsed by activist groups like Zero Waste Canada. (Because honestly, if the grassroots don’t love it, what are we even doing here?)

Speaking of endorsements, I learned the David Suzuki Society doesn’t do them — but plot twist: they do run an art contest that’s basically made for my project. It’s a tight turnaround (they opened it only a few days ago and close it within a month), but you better believe I’m submitting. If I win, it’ll be huge for credibility and exposure. Honestly, I’m buzzing with excitement just thinking about it.

Meanwhile, in one very caffeinated evening (that lasted until 2:30 a.m.), I built the entire website for the classes. Receipts, emails, intro video, copywriting — the whole shebang. It’s clean, professional, and surprisingly fun. The only hiccup? I’m currently in domain-name limbo waiting for the DAM.com to connect. But hey, as problems go, that’s a champagne problem.

This coming week, the boots hit the ground. I’ve got a lead on a local principal and a professor at the university. If I can get this thing vetted in schools and higher-ed spaces, it’s a game-changer. Plus, I found out the VIC universities will sometimes give free rooms if you’re running workshops. Even if mine don’t end up being free, just the idea of space without rental costs feels like a little cosmic wink.

On the art front: I swapped pieces at the gallery. They kept nearly everything, which is a great sign, and even reported some solid sales. I only hauled home three pieces. Now I’m planning a miniature “Suzuki-inspired” version for the gallery while I work on the bigger contest submission. And since my brain doesn’t understand brakes, I’m also poking at weatherproofing experiments so I can expand into structural art — park benches, bricks, that kind of thing.

Oh, and somewhere in there I snagged two whole days off work. First time in ages. Absolute bliss. My last day of rest is today, and then it’s right back to the grind tomorrow.

On deck for later this fall: connecting with the Gabriola Island textile wizard (she’s in Greece until October — I mean, what a flex). She’s running a donation-to-recycling pipeline for fabrics, and I can’t wait to learn from her and finally see Gabriola myself.

Big picture: classes finished , website live (almost) , art selling , Suzuki contest underway . The empire is slowly assembling, brick by brick (literally).

It’s been a while since my last update — not because things have slowed down, but because they’ve been moving fast. The Recycling Project has officially entered what I’d call the “turning-point phase” — where creative ideas are solidifying, partnerships are forming, and doors I didn’t even know existed are swinging open.

 Art on the Move

The David Suzuki Foundation “Rewilding” project is well underway, and I’m beyond proud of how it’s coming together. The piece is about halfway done, and every section feels like it’s taking on a life of its own. Of course, that puts pressure on the remaining half — but hey, pressure’s where diamonds (and apparently plaster-waste mosaics) are made.

And the universe handed me a little gift: I found out there’s an extra month before the final deadline, so I can fine-tune and breathe a little easier.

On the gallery front, I’ve already shown work locally and now have a new opportunity at the Glenwood Market’s big winter event — the region’s two-day art showcase. I’m so honored to be part of it. It feels like the right time to share these pieces publicly, not just as art, but as visible proof that waste can be reimagined into beauty.

 Collaboration & Validation

This part’s really exciting: a professor at Royal Roads University has agreed to review The Recycling Project’s curriculum materials. I sent over everything last week and plan to follow up soon — fingers crossed he sees the same potential we do!

And as if that weren’t thrilling enough, Zero Waste Canada reached out. They’re genuinely interested in what we’re building here and even mentioned a possible endorsement once they review more of the modules. That kind of validation could open serious doors — especially for getting our Trash Truths & Dump Myths program into schools, municipalities, and eco-networks across the country.

  From Art to Application

The next big pivot: R&D for the functional side of The Recycling Project. The art side is humming, the curriculum side is being vetted, so it’s time to go hands-on with building.

I want to explore how our recycled-plaster material can move beyond art frames and into functional design — think bricks, planters, flooring, furniture, maybe even small bridges one day. If it’s made of waste, it has potential. We can’t just paint over the problem — we have to build with it.

To learn more, I’m planning an industry interview with The Mud Girls, a phenomenal women-led natural building collective. They’ve mastered the art of sustainable construction, and I’d love to learn from their approach as we start testing prototypes for practical, eco-resilient structures.

 Local Roots, Global Vision

Closer to home, a local creperie is showcasing and selling my artwork, which feels like the perfect small-town synergy — art meeting community, creativity supporting commerce. Every display, every conversation, every curious customer helps normalize the idea that sustainability can be stylish, accessible, and joyful.

Between all that, I’ve been refining the ReVision Hub website, bringing it closer to the vision I’ve always had: a space that connects people, celebrates waste reduction, and shares real solutions from real communities.

 The Takeaway

The Recycling Project isn’t just growing — it’s rooting.
Each step — from partnerships to prototypes — is proof that people want change, they just need someone to show what’s possible. And I’m here for it.
Because reimagining waste isn’t just a mission.
It’s a movement.

Today feels like the universe just gave me a some solid high fives!

Yesterday, Zero Waste Canada emailed me back — and not just a polite “thanks for reaching out” kind of reply. They get it. They love what The Recycling Project is doing and want to learn more about the classes. They’re actually interested in possibly endorsing the Trash Truths & Dump Myths program and exploring ways we might collaborate down the line. I literally had to sit down for a second.

And then — as if the sustainability gods decided to pile on the joy — I heard back from the Royal Roads University professor who was vetting the curriculum. He said he had no notes. None. Zip. Nada. He said the classes were beautifully done, meaningful, and ready to go. He gave me full permission to say they’ve been vetted by him and Royal Roads, and he even sent me a glowing paragraph-long review I can use anywhere I want.

That’s the kind of validation that hits deep. After months of building, editing, doubting, refining, rethinking, re-rethinking, and still pushing forward — to have experts say, “This is solid. This is important.” It’s honestly overwhelming in the best way.

There was a tiny bit of bittersweet news in the mix — the gallery that sells my art is closing its physical location. But even that came with a silver lining. They’re not shutting down entirely; they’re pivoting to pop-ups and museum collaborations. That’s actually kind of thrilling — a shake-up that could open new doors for me too.

So yeah. Today was one for the record books.
Gratitude doesn’t even begin to cover it.

It feels like the project is standing upright now — finally walking on its own two legs instead of wobbling around like a newborn giraffe.

The art side? It’s got rhythm. I know what I’m doing there, it’s evolving exactly the way it should. The classes? Done. Polished. Vetted. They just need to get into teachers’ hands now. The website hub? It’s still a baby version of what it’ll become, but it’s alive. The bones are there. It looks and feels like what I dreamed it would — a foundation ready to grow into this big, wild, world-changing thing.

I keep wanting to jump ahead — to sprint into the functional prototype side and start tackling those four main engineering puzzles (adhesion, weight, weather resistance, and… something I’ll remember at 2 AM, probably). But deep down, I know this isn’t the moment to scatter my focus.

I’m a doer. A classic “I’ll just juggle twelve projects and see what happens” kind of person. But right now, I need to slow down and focus on getting what’s already built into the world. Not just creating — distributing. Not just building — placing. The hard part now isn’t the art or the curriculum. It’s getting both seen.

And yeah, I hate words like “marketing” and “sales.” They feel sterile, transactional, not me. But “advocacy”? That fits. I’m not selling something — I’m standing up for something.

So this next chapter is about visibility. I’ve got a big market coming up at the end of the month, a new local space that’ll carry a few of my pieces, and a whole lot of art to finish to make that happen. I also realized I need to create a single summary class that I can deliver live — a kind of “greatest hits” version of the 22-module teacher package. Maybe three lengths, maybe three different formats (info talk, info + art demo, and full art experience). That’s… a lot of versions. But it feels right.

The functional prototypes will have to wait their turn. Their day will come. Right now, the mission is clear:
Get the art out there. Get the classes out there. Build the bridge between creation and connection.

Because this isn’t about doing more.
It’s about doing what matters — and doing it loud enough for the world to hear.

For months I’ve been building, experimenting, patching things together—sometimes literally with plaster and garbage—and wondering if any of it would ever land. And then, in the span of a few days, it all did.

The David Suzuki Foundation submission came together in a single burst of clarity. The piece felt right in my gut, like everything I’ve been trying to say through The Recycling Project finally spoke for itself.

Then, the creperie downtown sold two of my pieces within twenty-four hours. People are connecting with the work in real time, in my own community.

And—because apparently the universe was on a caffeine high—I received the Deputy Minister’s Award for Excellence in Promoting a Healthy and Inclusive Workplace. Twice now. It still feels surreal.

What I’m learning is that when you build with integrity, momentum sneaks up on you. The “overnight wins” are really just the echoes of months of showing up tired but showing up anyway.

Right now my focus is simple: keep making art, keep getting it into classrooms, and keep opening doors for collaboration. My mentor just handed me resources for a women-led environmental enterprise program and a compost-education group in Victoria—both perfect next steps.

I’m calling this stretch not “luck,” but alignment. The pieces are finally clicking into place because the purpose behind them stayed solid.

Here’s to staying grounded, grateful, and maybe taking a nap before the next good thing hits.

This week, something resurfaced — and it hit me like a ton of recycled bricks. For months, I’ve been saying we need to care more about recycling, we need to look differently at waste, we need to teach why it matters. And all that’s true. But it’s not the core mission. The real mission is bigger.

This project exists for two reasons:

1. To prove what’s possible. To show, tangibly, that people want solutions and are ready for them.

2. To prove it’s urgent. Because we’re out of time to pretend “they” — whoever they are — are handling it. Spoiler alert: they’re not. Governments are trying to keep economies steady and people calm, not ring the climate alarm bells. That’s our job now.

So The Recycling Project isn’t just art or education anymore — it’s a living, breathing research-and-action network. We’re collecting data, stories, and proof that communities can adapt, innovate, and thrive without drowning in plastic or red tape.

And realizing that? It’s invigorating.

It’s also made my next steps glaringly clear: this isn’t a solo mission anymore. I’m ready to build the core team — the changemakers who’ll help turn this movement into an unstoppable force.

• The Marketing & Community Coordinator — the spark plug who can take this message to the streets, online and offline.

• The Education & Art Assistant — the boots-on-the-ground builder, helping run workshops in schools, libraries, and community spaces.

• The Funding & Business Strategist — the one who keeps the numbers, grants, and legal stuff in order so we can scale responsibly.

And yeah, I’m officially applying for a grant a week now — because it’s go time.

We’re not just making art anymore. We’re making proof. We’re making systems. We’re making change.

It’s adapt or collapse, and I’m done waiting for permission. Let’s f'n go!

A lot of really great things were happening for a while — click, clickity, click, click. Everything was falling into place, the energy was high, and the universe was vibing right back.
But let’s be honest: nothing stays on the upswing forever. The laws of physics (and the laws of life) simply don’t allow it.

So of course - chaos ensued:

First, the Pollinator Fund said no. Which, okay, fine — not every door opens on the first knock. But then the real punch came: in the middle of submitting my shiny, functional, beautiful website to Zero Waste Canada and the David Suzuki Foundation, Google pulled a digital hit job.

Yup.
My entire website — gone.
Deleted in what I’m now referring to as The Great Gmail Cleanup Kerfuffle of 2025.

I can laugh about it now… mostly. At the time, I was somewhere between panic and primal scream. Especially because I have a HUGE market coming up, but I couldn’t risk those important people clicking my link only to find a sad, deleted wasteland of “oops, this page doesn’t exist.” Not the best look when you’re trying to impress the big dogs.

So, I did what any mildly unhinged, sleep-deprived visionary would do: I rebuilt the entire thing from scratch. Every. Waking. Second. Straight. Though. I scraped together pieces from my sent folder, old drafts, and pure memory.

And you know what? I think it might actually be better than before. "We can rebuild him. We have the technology. We can make him better than he was. Better, stronger, faster."
Kind of like me after this round of chaos... HOPEFULLY

So here we are — patched up, powered up, and PRAYING we're heading back toward the good side of the luck curve. Because mama needs a break, and I've definitely earned at least a few quiet, glitch-free weeks... and money.. ;)

Well, the big market has come and gone… and let’s just say, it wasn’t exactly Black Friday at Best Buy. I rebuilt the entire website before it (and I'm actually pretty proud of it! — humble brag, shoulder brush), then spent a week feverishly creating stock because everyone said this was the market of the year. Lines out the door, hundreds of people, the whole shebang. So I built up inventory, thinking worst case, I’d have lots ready for galleries.

Then reality hit: crickets. Two days, minimal sales, max effort. But hey — massive learning curve. Markets, I now realize, are all about small-ticket impulse buys: magnets, cards, trinkets, keychains. The people making bank were selling joy in under $15. Lesson learned.

Also learned: I am not a market person. I like designing systems, not small talk. I’m a builder, not a sales person. Luckily, a friend of mine (a literal sales goddess who could sell sand in the Sahara) is stepping in to run my booth at future markets. I’ll handle setup and teardown; she’ll work her magic. Win-win.

Now, onto the billionth pivot.

1. Sharing the Classes

I’m thinking of putting my recycling education classes — the ones vetted by Royal Roads University, no less — online for free or by donation. Yeah, I know. “That’s not a business plan.” But it’s about accessibility and credibility. Why should anyone trust me if they can’t see the quality for themselves? Letting people access the content builds trust, street cred, and community. Once people know me, the paid workshops and bundles can come later.

2. Pro-D Workshops

Speaking of workshops — I met someone from a school’s professional development team, and she actually wants me to run Pro-D sessions for teachers. That’s gold. So I’ll be writing new workshops for that next. That feels like the right direction: in-person connection, education, and visible impact.

3. The Plaster Problem (and Resin Revolution)

Minor hiccup: some pieces “sweated” at the market. It’s harmless (plaster being plaster), but I don’t love it. So I’m experimenting with resin for a whole new series. It’ll weatherproof the art and open up a bunch of new creative possibilities.

4. The Port Alberni Project

And now… it’s time to put my money where my mouth is. I’m officially launching a hyper-local experiment: learning exactly how to recycle properly in Port Alberni. Then I’ll turn that into a one-page, crayon style guide and get it into everyone’s hands — no jargon, no guilt trips, just clarity.

After that, I’ll survey the town about what we think should happen next, then fight to make it happen. That’s how I WILL earn people’s trust and prove I’m not just talking the talk — I’m walking the sustainable walk.

Timeline?

• November: Research + create the guide.

• December: Collect community input (perfect timing — people are generous around the holidays).

• January: Use that New Year motivation to push the local government.

It’s ambitious, but doable. And honestly? This version of the Recycling Project feels more real than ever. It’s grassroots, it’s tangible, it’s impactful.

Here’s to another pivot! They are simply add on to the glory of this project ;)

OH! And the name 'The Recycling Project' was rejected by both my business plan assessors and the BC government LOL Dang it! So rebranding once we get a name approved. I'd tell ya what the next 3 options are but I'm paranoid now and don't want to jinx it!

Okay, team — sprint recap time. The last blog entry was all about revamping the website and strategizing the next evolution of the project. Then life said: “Hold my beer.”

I got knocked out by the flu for weeks. Not days — weeks. And when I finally crawled back into the world, it felt like every domain of my life triggered a full-scale incident report. Outside all the small things that consistently went wrong, my dogs tried to square up with a German Shepherd (and mine are the size of cats, so are clearly delusional), then one ripped off a nail at the root, turned my wallet inside out, and apparently needs over $2,500 of dental work.

Meanwhile, my day job did what day jobs do: add F'n drama-rama for no reason. again, to say the biggest and skip the drudgery of all the little frustrations going hay-wire, my computer glitched like it had a vendetta against me specifically. Leave drama popped off like a drunken sailor. And somehow — someway — every outcome magically became my fault even though I was operating at “militant-efficiency-crossed-with-caffeine-high.” - because i was SICK I had to read everything twice! AND I TOOK PICS!!! So I know I was right :P

The vibes? Immaculate chaos from all angles.
The outcome? Full. System. Shutdown.

So I hit pause — hard.
Because The Recycling Project is my happy place, my flow state, my “I am exactly who I’m meant to be” zone. And I refuse to drag my beautiful, soul-aligned work through the mud of burnout. This project deserves me at my best, not me running on emotional fumes.

The Burnout Debrief: Insights from the Wreckage

I’ve always been an all-in personality. Dawn-to-dusk. If there’s a mountain, I’m scaling it. If there’s a deliverable, I’m shipping it. If there’s a creative idea, it’s getting a full feasibility study before dinner.

But being that person requires intentional rest. I’m talking hyper intentional 5 senses bubble baths, forest bathing, decadent evening rituals of pure joy - I’m talking real, conscious downtime. Listening to my body like it's giving performance metrics. And when I ignored that dashboard? Crash. Hard crash. Reboot required.

I tried to jump back into this work too soon — a classic rookie move — and immediately face-planted again. So I surrendered. I took the time. I recalibrated. And slowly, I started feeling like myself again.

But...

Even while I was “resting,” I was still thinking about this project — tweaking ideas, reimagining systems, future-proofing the vision. I’m obsessed. Unapologetically obsessed. This project is stitched into my DNA now.

The Purpose Epiphany

During the downtime I kept circling one big theme: purpose.
People talk about “living with purpose” the way influencers talk about morning routines… like it’s a product with free shipping.

But purpose is messy. Purpose is a process. Purpose is a long, winding, “are-we-there-yet” road. I get why people get frustrated — I did too.

What helped was not chasing an answer but just Imagining and re-imagining and re-reimagining my best self and best life.
Not perfect — real.
Not some enlightened vegan monk version of myself that doesn’t exist (listen, I TRIED, it ain't my journey).

Just: “What would my ideal life look like? What would my ideal me look like?”
And then building that life brick by brick with total flexibility. Because the version of me in my head had… ambitions. Farm ambitions. Mushroom ambitions. Bamboo empire ambitions.

Each iteration taught me more. What I actually wanted stayed consistent:

• working with my hands

• working with art

• working with nature

• doing something that would benefit the planet in a real way

• and choosing something I love so deeply that I never want to retire from it

Those were my north stars.

And slowly — through trial, error, compost, plants, lots o f poor dead plants, plaster, garbage experiments, and a few mild identity crises — everything clicked into place. The art. The waste education. The mission. The obsession. The authenticity.

Becoming My Real Self (Even When She’s… Fragile Sometimes)

And look — sometimes the “authentic me” is a delicate little baby deer who needs two extra weeks off after the flu because she emotionally cannot handle doing something she loves yet. Is it ridiculous? Absolutely. Does it matter? Not even a little.

Being human is inefficient. It’s also spectacular and decadent and powerful.

• SIDE NOTE - had I ACTUALLY gotten to take 2 full weeks off my day job after my flu I think I'd have gotten here faster - I only got 3.5 days off work for the whole dang flu :( But I took the time off of what I could  - life, humans, passion, my project, and any sense of responsibility or obligation - IGNORED!! It ROCKED until I got so antsy I couldn't stop myself from getting back to it.

So here we are. I’m back.

Recharged. Reset. Ready to build again.
The Recycling Project didn’t lose momentum — it marinated. And I’m coming back with a sharper sense of self, stronger boundaries, refined ideas, developed strategies beyond anything I even considered before, and a renewed obsession for what we’re building.