Countdown to Exhibition: Five days, One Therapy Visit and Six Jillion Cups of Coffee

I think I'm getting carpel tunnel. Not from my art, no, that would almost be a pleasant pain. I'm getting carpel tunnel from my godforsaken stupid job.

I realize that my allergy to work is more complex than I once deemed it. I thought "I'm just not cut out for it", and convinced myself that being on the flip side of the working world would be the only thing that might make me happy. But it's not really that, I don't think. This show has been work. It's been disipline and frustration and blissful little breakthroughs. But even right now - when all I want from this whole planet is to go back to my bed and sleep with the cats - I'm looking forward to spending my lunch hour pounding the pavement and putting my face on Austin's art scene.

Being stuck here at my desk, however, is actually sucking my soul dry. So, that's fun.

My point is it's not the work I'm allergic to, it's the working-at-jobs-that-have-nothing-to-do-with-my-passions that makes me want to throw myself out of a window. Onto my car.... Maybe my bosses car. I don't really want to hurt Betty.

Anyhow, I'm officially in the throws of "down-to-the-wire". I'm running short on money (This is a gross understatement). Fridge is pretty empty again. But I have really great looking fliers and adorable little "Moo" business cards to prove I'm a real artist and so none of that other stuff really matters. ...Much.

Come to the show??

I EMULATE You... <3

http://www.fussy.org/

http://mightygirl.com/

http://www.dooce.com/

http://camillaengman.blogspot.com/ (she's can't afford a domain name for her blog either!)

and of course the oh so beautiful and talented:

http://www.iambossy.com/

I want to be you. Me. Be you. Someday?

SIGH......

"Too Much Cream in my Coffee" is not a Euphemism

I've been adding too much cream to my coffee lately. For a lactose intolerant person (who's been smoking like a chimney) this causes a bit of a build up problem in the back of the throat area. Grossed out yet? I'm ready for breakfast.

Since yesterday was such a phenomenal let down as far as making my boss happy, I've decided to go easy on myself today.

-- You know, I should stop there. I read a very wise piece of information today, from one of those "successful" blogs I love so much, that one should not gossip about their work or lack thereof on one's public internet blog. I should heed that piece of advice. But I probably won't. ...No, I won't.

Why, you ask, should I jeopardize my job? Is it because I don't give two shits about it? Or is it because I have absolutely zero respect for my boss after all that has happened? Or is it simply because I don't have one lick of work ethic? The answer, my friends, is ALL OF THE ABOVE.

After all, the bastard did shove me off onto our San Antonio - the very people whom he bitches about having to deal with - saying that he wants to "give me a fair shake" and doesn't have time to do that. And so why doesn't the Office Manager show me "Our Administrative Process'?" And he has spent all of his spare time (regardless of his lack of it) eying everything I do for faults and mis-steps.

Basically, I think they're looking for reasons to fire me.

So today - because I just don't have any motivation left in me to kiss his wrinkly old gray ass - I am going to just kick back and enjoy my "Friday". I'm going to let the anticipation of the really HUGE thing that's happening in my life sink in. I'm even going to ask him for next Friday off, because I know I'm going to need it.

Oh calm down, I'll do some work. I'm just not going to try to do a back handspring (followed by a quadruple pike and a pirouette) in order to make him all giddy like a school boy. He's going to have to get his work jollies somewhere else today.

INTERNAL SCREAM

'Nuff said.

Sometimes, Even Before My Second Cup of Coffee

(And sometimes after my second cup of coffee too!)

I regret coming to work. Because NOTHING - and I mean NOTHING will ever be satisfactory to the conservative-type A-money-money people I work for. To them, I will always be one of those people who "stupidly believes there is a living in art". I swear they seek out things I do wrong.

But no matter. Because luckily I am one of those people who believes there is a living in art. And my efforts thus far are proving that to me. Even if I freak out about it from time to time.

Between KT and C, I was talked down from an artistic meltdown.

"I need to make another piece! I don't know what to do!!!" I said.

"Nightmares, girl, Nightmares!" KT replied.

"I don't think I'm going to have enough work," I said.

"Focus on what you do have, and make it even more amazing!" C returned.

Oh such brilliant friends I have. What would a flaky artist type do, were it not for her wonderful, level headed and mostly objective friends??? Smoke more cigarettes??

New piece is going to be titled: Exposing new beginnings OR Waking up in a cold sweat. It's a series of women hiking up their skirts and dropping out plastic baby dolls.

I will post it when it is pasted together...

Last night KT and I rode in the dry September air down to the secret swim spot. We swam and talked till our fingers were pruned. The water was cold, or at least the air was cooler, and the night was quiet. The crescent moon hung low and orange in the sky but with its light stroked our bikini clad bodies with calm. In the shallow end of the pool the strong scent of jasmine filled our noses. It was like soul yoga and, as I thought of how I missed the weeks I've been skipping the swim, I wondered what I'm going to do when it gets cold. How will I night swim?

We rode slowly back to my apartment, our wet swimsuits stripped from our bodies and tucked into our backpacks. I followed her flashing light past the closing coffee shops and lingering patrons at the restaurants. I grinned madly to be back on the saddle of a bike, stretching my tired, under worked muscles.

As the fall mellows out the summer, I hope for the winter. Maybe another ice storm, locked up cozy with someone special. Far away from work and its thankless stresses.

In less than two days I go to meet my father. I am aching to wear jeans and shoes without heels and sit by a fire and drink beer and eat cow. I hope to ride in a truck and walk in the woods. I am taking the camera from work, and I don't care what anyone says about it.

Maybe I'll bring home some ticks and release them on my boss...

Weekend Recap

I went MIA from the blog last week. I would love to fill you in on all of the details, but I can't really remember them. I think they were already purged from my mind.

Not to disappoint my two avid readers, I'll give you a little photo tour of the weekend. No, really, it's the least I can do.

On friday I made a commitment to myself to get well rested and then get a crap ton of work done on my days off. Holding myself to this, I promptly went for a bike ride to the secret swimming spot with KT, after which I watched a good amount of crime drama and went to bed.

The next morning I woke up too early and made coffee to motivate myself for the day.

"I'll get some work done while the coffee's brewing," I thought, "And then when Hobby Lobby opens I'll go and get stuff to finish at least two pieces. I'll come back and work for the rest of the day. I'm going to get SOOO much done."

I put the coffee on STRONG and sat down at my work table. Fitch meowed plantifly, and so I asked him up. This is when he decided to lay all over my work:

and this is where Simon loved his box:

And that's when I moved from my work table to my couch and talked on the phone for a hour and a half.

I went to Hobby Lobby and got my paper for to work on my piece. Once home I napped for a few hours. Then KT called and we decided to ride bikes again. This is where I rode my fancy bike all around town:

Just kidding, that's just a shot of my fancy bike being special by my bookshelf. See that pink book, top shelf far left? That's a copy of Heidi I got when I was five. See that huge tattered brown book on the same shelf, five books over? That's my copy of Little Women that I have no problem admitting I've read at least six times. I love the way it smells. Here is another picture of my beautiful bike:

Anyhow, we had chips and salsa and queso and beer at Chuys:

And then I went home and got a horrible night sleep. I did not do anymore work.

In the morning I felt like poop and so I didn't feel guilty about smoking cigarettes and hanging around my house drinking coffee. I did this until 2:30 when C called to take me to do laundrat.

This is where we did laundrat:

This is where C watched the laundrat spin in the dryer:

This is where I took a photo of us, in the reflection of the dryer:

At last the laundrat wash warshed and dried (and even folded!) and C took me to buy a few groceries at the Food Whole and the implement of torture that I had been pining away for. I bought healthy things like Fruit Loops and Macaroni and Cheese and Refried Beans.

Once home we set directly to using the implement of torture. There are no photographs of this act, because if I ever become famous I do not want photos of me on the internet pushing blackheads from the pores on my nose. Because THAT'S what this thing DOES:

After we were both satisfied that we had the most beautiful skin in the WHOLE UNIVERSE, we ate macaroni and cheese and laid around on the couch. We talked about my art work and what I could possibly do for cheap framing (but came up with nothing) and about how guilty I felt for not doing any work all weekend.

C went home around 8:30 or 9, and so I had nothing left to do but watch more crime drama. And I got some work done, too.

I was up till midnight. Who needs well rested anyhow...

Rainy Days and Tuesdays...

Funnily enough, they don't bring me down. My good friends, on the other hand, seem to be having a rough time of it. Miss B is suffering the end of an eight year relationship. We talked about it last night over a bottle of white and I thought: "Wow, for once I can't add my piece to this conversation".

We schemed and laughed. The possibility of moving in together came up. While I am seriously attached to my apartment and the amazing charm it's brought to my life, the thought of having a good good friend always on hand to craft with, or to throw dinner parties with, or too watch Law and Order with? To garden and decorate? It's definitely food for thought. And her house is just down the block, so I wouldn't be giving up my neighborhood - which I wouldn't even DREAM of doing. And if C moved into my old place it wouldn't even be like giving it up, really...

I had big aspirations to work on the bird pieces last night but they were completely disrupted by my beautiful new bike and Miss B's relationship. Not that I mind. I'm always looking for a good excuse to put off working.

In fact right after work, when I should have been eating dinner and gearing up for some rubber cement snuffing, I took the NEW Lotus down to the bike shop so that I could get the seat adjusted. And, just a little bit, I wanted to show off my new baby.

Being a cute girl has certain delightful perks. Like getting the royalty treatment at the bike shop when you obviously know nothing about bikes. Maybe that's why I choose this particular shop. I always feel so special. Needless to say I left with a new / used saddle (and a good one!) and my bike had been fitted to me perfectly. Tonight, if it's not raining still, I full intend to cruise around the 'hood.

I will be the one grinning like a damn fool.

Impulsively

I BOUGHT ME A NEW BIKE.



It's a Lotus Odyssey and I am IN LOVE.

Every weekend should be Labor Day

I need one more day of rest. I'm sure this is redundant but it's worth saying again: I am an advocate for the three day weekend / four day work week. I think that people's productivity would be through the roof if they had more days to spend with themselves and their families. Me - the mere chance to sleep in one extra day would make me a significantly more chipper person come "Monday".

But I did get a lot done this weekend. Between Target runs and craft parties I managed to finish one whole piece and begin two more. I told Chris that if I produced the piece I did this weekend that I would credit her. I can't come up with anything good to call it though. So far its titled "Have you ever tried to cut teeny tiny "s"s out of magazine paper with giant scissors?" But that doesn't really credit Chris. The other one I came up with was "Amazing therapist + too many cigarettes + huge Vegan chocolate chip cookie = End to inspirationlessness." Both seem like mediocre titles.

The piece itself is large - probably 30 x 36 (I really should start measuring these) - all white images like picket fences, wedding dresses and an old man's fluffy silver hair-do. In the very center is a teeny word: Inspirationlessness. I invented the word by accident at therapy and we got a good laugh over it, but it proved just the thing to get over my inspirationlessness! Despite the fact that I spent more time pasting miniscule scraps of paper to the surface (with the help of tweezers and a lot of cigarettes!) than any other part of the piece. Whatever. It turned out lovely and I'm very happy.

I wish I had a few more days to stay in my pajamas and create things. I am beginning to feel excited about the outcome. It's going to be beautiful, and very exciting. :)

It's FRIDAY, it's FRIDAY

How is it possible that a four day week could last so long?? And it's only 1:30? No, lets put a positive spin on that:

WOW, I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S FRIDAY ALREADY. AND IT'S 1:30. THE DAY IS HALF OVER.

Nope, didn't work.

Maybe I'll eat the remaining half pound of chocolate that I purchased at lunch. Yes, I think that is the solution.

I sold the bike frame yesterday. I realized that it was going to cost me more to build it up from scratch than to just purchase a bike that I can ride away. It was a silly impulse buy, I guess. But it worked as a sort of savings plan because now I can put more gas in my car. The boy who bought it from me seemed to have an idea of what he was doing, anyhow. So I didn't feel too much sadness handing it to him for 40 bucks.

After the guy left with my purple bike frame I found myself stir crazy, again. A chemical low, maybe? I managed to cut out a half a magazine worth of white for the new piece. While scoring and tearing at the yellow table I entertained myself with my new favorite TV show Men in Trees. It's simply fabulous. It's like Sex and the City meets Grey's Anatomy with mountains and snow and log cabins and woodland creatures. How can you dislike this combination? I mean, besides the fact that it's completely implausible - Anne Heche as a straight woman????

I've never liked plausible stories anyhow.

This weekend lends itself to the opportunity to meet new people, or to stay home with my laundry (which is oozing from my closet). Salsa dancing? Or a good nap? Shoe shopping? Or folding socks? Either way, I cannot wait for this day to be over. I wonder if I did some "work" if the day might go by more quickly...

Damnit.

I really hate working. There has GOT to be something that can be done about it. I contemplated marrying rich, but that seems to mean I have to date in the 45 + category. That's pushing it a little.

Maybe I'll just become independently wealthy. I'll just, um...I dunno. Knock over a bank or something. Then I could move to Argentinia and marry a man who doesn't grasp the english language. But then I'd be in exile. I'm not really keen on that. I want to live abroad but I'm sure my mom will want to meet her dozen or so Argentinian grand kids.

So what's that mean then? I'm stuck here? Fuck.

Maybe I can get the cats to make me a ham sandwich. I think that's as close as I'm gonna get to "hired help" in my life...

A Scent

Walking down the hall and was assailed by the scent of fresh peaches. Immediately a smile, then memory of sunlight pouring through the branches of a late spring orchard. Just over the railroad tracks, I had parked my car as close to the road as possible, hoping it was out of sight from the house. One friend climbed the peach tree while the other sang songs with me safely below her. He was my first summer romance. Strong and sun bleached from the Hawaiian shores. We snapped peaches from the low hanging branches, giggling at the thought of being caught. He kissed me sweetly and placed a little box in my hand. A dainty necklace, or was it a ring? Surely I don't still have it now. Our friend returned with a half a bushel of fuzzy warm peaches cradled in the long end of her t-shirt just as the bird alarm went off somewhere near the farm house, at the other end of the orchard. Laughing, three teenagers ran back to my mothers station wagon, crossed out of the orchard and into the summer. As we drove home the short, sandy haired girl unloaded her shirt on the backseat, surveyed her wares and dug in. Together we silently smiled and slurped, peaches dribbling down our forearms and chins.

The next day he left, then not long after she left too. Where sadness was, a memory of that day in the Palisade of the Colorado river; we stole peaches.

Light Up!

Things that make my heart warm and fuzzy:

- Dinners with wonderful friends.

- A cool, rainy fall day in Texas.

- Thinking about laying out my mothers china for this years Thanksgiving.

- Learning about my family and all it's crazt splendor.

- Being THIS CLOSE to achieving my goals, and getting to see everything really come together.

- Finding the PERFECT music for my perfect night.

- Realizing that I am warm and fuzzy!

Alas, the trick for me is alway to retain that warm and fuzzy feeling. You know, to not let work become "STUPID work", and stay in that pink fuzzy place. How does one do that? Me specifically. How do I do that?

Watching giggling babies helps. Writing a little blog thing doesn't hurt. Avoiding my boss is always a good one. Looking at hot bikes?

Yeah, that's nice.

I think I'll find some funny stuff on You Tube for lunch. Maybe I can snort soup out my nose...