No One Can Do Anything by Themselves…

So the reality right now is that I am totally booked with stuff and making art is difficult and even getting stuff graded is, because last night, before I had my kid drive me to the SO’s show, I was sitting there, gulping tea because I was freakin’ exhausted and didn’t know if I could stand for hours, watching music, but I was grading late work. Because I had 96 emails and I hadn’t graded late work since the first week of April (there was a two-week Spring Break in there, so I only feel sorta bad about that), and I need to catch the fuck up. Holy crap, it’s never gonna happen. It always feels that way in May, though, and then we have testing and when we teach sex ed, the grading is literally just Did they do it? Cool. Give them points, so that makes life easier.

YES. I go back every year and read my own blog to remember that the feeling of burbling panic in my belly and chest is NOT a heart attack or even a panic attack…it is just the last month of the school year. Every Year. So I should just get zen with it. I was not zen yesterday. We did a lab with corn syrup and salt water and isopropyl alcohol, and even though we put stuff in trays (best purchases we ever made), I still had a kid (accidentally) knock an entire tray off the table and onto the ground and no I did not kill him but it totally threw me for the rest of the day holy shit that’s when you know you’re tired…not just tired from no sleep, but also tired of being a teacher. It happens. To all of us. We should buy a mop for the classroom. Totally.

Meanwhile, I’m really really incredibly disturbed by the attack on women’s reproductive rights. I just don’t understand this need to control our uteri and not also hold men accountable. Georgia, you fucking suck. OK. Clarify. Georgia politicians: you fucking suck. Anyone who supports someone else making decisions about what I can and can’t do with my uterus sucks. The politicians trying to overturn Roe V Wade fucking suck. Sometimes this stuff just makes me so sick to my stomach…people have rights. Women have rights. If you’re arguing that a fetus has rights to survive No Matter What, then you need to fund all the support systems that will help someone take care of them, and NOT make an 11-year-old give birth after a RAPE. This shit is beyond me. It makes me want to scream. I don’t even know how to process it into a drawing, because I’m so angry about it. Deep breaths. VOTE. I might move to Georgia and vote. OK, no. But I do support NOT supporting Georgia financially. And the other states who are on this crazy bandwagon. What is this world we live in? We are supposed to be better than this. We aren’t better right now. We’re not great. We’re intensely fucked up. You can rail against Democrats and liberals all you like…they’re not trying to make an 11-year-old who was raped give birth. Not a single one.

Woo! So yeah. Letting that sit with the art brain for a while. It’ll come out. Somehow.

So what I did last night…is make the boychild drive me downtown (cheaper than Lyft)…the sky was much more interesting than this photo. It usually is.

And then I watched the man’s band play…because of where I was standing, I couldn’t get a picture of all 6 of them, but I like their logo for this show. I might steal it.

The man and his keyboards are behind the guitarist on the left.

It was a good show. The band after them was OK…really good when they were doing Weezer cover band stuff…less good when they weren’t. And then the band after them…

I’d never seen them before, but they were good (had a lot of backing tracks though, so what is good in that case?)…the audience was strangely young, even though the majority of the music was 80s. Like I felt sorta ancient. Which is funny, because I was actually in high school and college in the 80s, and a huge number of the people there were totally not even born then. So there was that. We didn’t make it to the end…too tired. Hauled our asses home, decompressed a little, and then collapsed in bed. Around 1 AM again though…that’s three nights this week. Sigh. I just can’t get it all done.

So I made no art last night, although no, wait…I drew this while waiting up at the front for Radio Thieves to go on…

I don’t know if it’s done. It’s small though, I would probably add to it. Or redo it. I like the idea. Maybe it wants to be big.

We leave in a few hours for Los Angeles to see Amanda Palmer. I’m really looking forward to seeing her for the first time. We have a hotel, so we don’t have to drive back for once. Hopefully it will all be very cool. It does mean I won’t get any quilt stuff done, unless I take pieces with me to cut out. I’m debating that. I’m not sure how much time there will be. Right now, it is raining, which I also wasn’t expecting this morning.

Anyway, I need to shower, pack, eat, grade some stuff, and iron some stuff. I need to decide what to take with me: sketchbook? embroidery? stuff to cut out? I also need another cup of tea, because I’m not officially awake yet.

This guy. Is such a dork. And when I started typing this, Kitten wouldn’t move.

She was convinced I didn’t need to see the menus on the left. Ugh.

OK, shower first. That will help with the awake part. I hope. The title is from a show I was watching. I believe that. I’m an incredibly independent woman. I don’t like help. But that’s the truth.

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