I Blame the Page

No blueberries today. I stuck to avocado. Much harder to explode.

I worked many hours yesterday. I came home very very tired after a 2-1/2 hour science meeting after school. I wasn’t particularly useful after that. I finished my book. I exercised. I ate. Oh yeah, and I drew. The last few nights, I’ve been staring at entry forms, trying to decide if I want to make a piece to enter in shows next, or if I just wanna do what I want. There are pros and cons to both. Of course. But I didn’t have any ideas for the themes that are coming up, so I was just kinda staring at stuff and not making decisions…then on the way to work yesterday, I’m tired, I’m not really thinking, but an entire drawing popped into my head. By the time I had made it to my classroom, talking to a couple of people on the way, it was there. Most of it. The general gist of it. All there.

Sometimes my brain astounds me. So after dinner last night, watching another episode of Black Mirror (this one made me cry…must have been tired for that)…I drew…

Coupla things. First of all, this isn’t it. It might be the start of it, but really, this thing is huge and I need more space on the page. So the second thing is about the page. I had this art teacher, Mrs. Westcott, in 5th grade. She’s probably dead now. She was actually probably not just the art teacher…she must have taught me other things (I remember spelling and some issues with a Japanese kid that she had me tutor. He was an ass.)…but she was an artist. My parents have a drawing of me that she did. Anyway, if you looked around the 5th-grade classroom at all the art hanging around, mine was the stuff that didn’t fit on the page. The tree would be all trunk and then the crown would be disappearing off the top. I have a distinct image in my mind of all the trees on the wall and mine just exploding upwards, except I didn’t get more paper. Now I just tape more paper on. It’s funny, though, that I still can’t fit on the page. I blame the page. It’s the wrong size.

Anyway, it’s a step in a direction toward maybe a drawing that will be a quilt. We’ll see.

I was being watched while I exercised.

I’m pretty much always being watched in this house. He looks all cute and sweet here, but he had sneezed big globs of snot on me earlier, so don’t be thinking he’s a nice kitty.

I’m back on the phone with my trash pickup. This is call number 5. I just want them to pick up my damn trash. Assholes. I know they won’t pick up. They never do when they pull this shit. It’s so fucking annoying. We have a pile of crap waiting because the boychild cleaned out the pool shed. I guess it will still wait. Fuckers.

Work. Today. I can do it. Picking up quilts from photographer. I’m at the San Diego Quilt Show tomorrow morning. I’m copyediting tonight.

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