When You Come Undone*

I know what I wanted to get to last night artwise and it didn’t happen. I was just too tired. My eyes have really been bugging me…getting all watery and tired. I’m blaming the weather, since we’re back to crazy warm again. Or just overuse. Or something. But I didn’t think I could pick fabrics last night when I couldn’t see straight. Perhaps staring at a computer for hours is part of it.

I came home from work…left there late because we are out in the morning on Monday for some training that I am not trying to think of as a waste of time at the moment. Because they say things like, “We’re giving you time to PLAAANNN…” but then it’s plan for what they think we should be doing and not what we’re really doing. Because this is about language standards in science…because we don’t make our kids write their asses off? And I don’t know what I’m doing? You’re right…a Comp. Lit. degree and years of editing does not mean I can write. Or the 500+ words I write almost every day…whatever. I hate saying whatever all the time, but professional development is meant to push up and support those who need it on some general topic…and if you’ve already got that, then you’re screwed. There’s stuff I need help with and I’ll never get it out of PD. Rant over. Well. For now.

And then the errands for my parental units…lots of work in that. Fought the traffic and finally got home, and my water was off. But the guy who did it was running up the road yelling “Miss! Miss!”. Reminded me of school. Got the water back on (they have to move the pipes due to the new behemoth…house that is being built at the bottom of the road. Dealt with dogs…only two last night. Then I worked. School. For about 5 hours. Straight. Ugh. There’s more. I gotta do more. Maybe not today. We’ll see.

So at 11:22 PM, I was thinking, well…what CAN I do…because standing up and going to the studio and cleaning up enough to start picking fabrics is so totally NOT happening at 11:22 PM on a Friday night after teaching all week.

And that is why I found the big sketchbook in my hand (finally…oh my, what a relief) and I just let the pen drift across the page, and this idea of hands pulling the upper layer apart to reveal something behind, that happened.

It’s weird. And it’s not done. But it felt nice while I was doing it. And that’s the point. That’s what my head needed. And honestly it needs a shitload more of it, because if I’m leaving work on a Friday night and facing the weekend, it shouldn’t feel like I’m trying to shove down a panic attack, and that’s what it felt like. I have some big heavy things that need moving, and I can’t do it by myself…both literally and metaphysically. I need help with that. So there’s that side of it, where I feel like I’m on my own and can’t ask for or find help, and then there’s the part where my job is currently so demanding, both of time and mental energy, that I can’t find the space to make art. To relax.

Anyway. Right now I need to make a bunch of deviled eggs for a potluck/art talk thing tonight where I’ll be one of the talkers. I have my Powerpoint done but I have no fucking clue what I’m going to say. Which is fine. And I’m hanging out with a friend midday, but have stuff on both sides of that which need to get done. So off the chair, out of this room, go get shit done.

*Duran Duran, Come Undone