2004-03-07 @ 4:30 p.m.
|Oh Lordy, I just had quite a scare. It wasn't a bad scare. It more like an "I won the lottery...I WON THE FUCKING LOTTERY!!!!!" kind of scare.
I was walking home from the store. Its about a 2 1/2 mile round trip. Was recounting a conversation with a friend on the phone in my head, when I saw this small white box on the street. As I got closer I saw some print on it. It said: $100 -- quarters. Arggh!! I thought I had happened upon a hundred dollars worth of quarters. I was so freakin' excited, and then I kicked the edge of the box with my toe and...
well, it was just an empty box lid...
thus the continuing saga of incredibly good fortune that is wittykitty's life...
I'd like to say thanks for all the nice comments about my art. Am always nervous about putting myself out there in any way. But the response was very positive and I was very heartened by it. Thanks. :-)
I had sent it to my friend down in Manhattan. He's very sophisticated and walks around SOHO on a regular basis and even invests in art. We've been friends since he was 10 (almost 30 years). At first I was like, Oh, its only "G", he'll be nice. But then after I sent it, I got an incredible case of cold feet. So I checked the status of the e-mail and it indicated that he hadn't look at it yet so I unsent it (you can do that on AOL).
Yeah, I'm a chickshit.
But then I got an e-mail a little while later.
It read: I honestly think that is a great piece of art. There is a motion to it that illuminates the subject nicely.. and the free feeling that your technique is very peaceful and musical at the same time. The gradations of color are warm and comforting. It makes me feel good to look at it!
Yow! And that made me feel good to read. His copy of the print wasn't quite as blurry as diaryland's, but still. Wow. That was nice. I think he's my new agent. He also added a second e-mail that said I should try to sell my work on E-Bay. Maybe in the future.
So I talked to my best West Coast friend today. Alisha and I have been friends since high school. She's Japanese and very feisty. We couldn't have been more different in high school. We have absolutely nothing in common.
In high school she was class president. She was the mascot for the sports teams. She was on the school council and went to every sporting event, even if she wasn't doing the mascot thing.
Me? I was doing theatre, playing the piano for all the choral groups. I was on the school newspaper. I made the posters for all the plays, concerts and events. Sports? Our school had a football team? Really?
But we came together through our mothers I think. Her mom worked down at our grocery store, and my mom would always talk to her, and then they realized that their daughters went to school together.
But it was really our senses of humor that brought us together. Alisha used to call me Hawkeye in high school. This was in reference to Alan Alda's character on M*A*S*H, of course, which was a big hit when we were in high school. She said we shared the same dry senses of humor.
Alisha had a lot sunnier personality. She was a lot more outgoing and was very popular. We got closer in college and were actually room mates for a while in our twenties. That turned out not to be such a good idea, because that was when I realized I was kind of a loner.
I also realized Alisha had an anger streak about 3 miles wide. I had never seen that before. She had always just been Alisha, the funny, sunny school mascot. Except for my mother, I had never seen anyone with worse PMS.
And even though she would never acknowledge it, I felt there might have been a few psychological problems for my dear friend.
Her room, for instance. No furniture. Just everything piled on top of everything. Piles and piles and piles of things. Three feet deep of things. There was a skinny path to her bed, which was a mattress on the floor.
We had our house robbed when we lived together. All the money that she had was in the room. But the robbers missed it, even though it was in plain sight. There was so much junk, that they didn't see it. They just stole her Sony TV.
Her current landlord in California, threatened eviction recently, because stuff is now piled about 4 feet deep in all 4 rooms of her apartment, and it was a fire hazard. When I went to visit her about 4 years ago she wouldn't even let me come into her house.
Oh, did I mention she can't stop buying stuff and has like 6 credit cards maxed out? She has a one bedroom apartment. And 3 rental units that are jammed to the ceiling with stuff. I saw 2 of them when I was still in California. I helped rearranged some of it. I don't think she knows what is in there. Just stuff.
When she came to visit me on the East Coast a few years ago, we went shopping (at her request, I'm not a big shopper, even when I have money). And she just bought and bought. Just little shit. Playing cards. DVDS. Necklaces. Japanese tea sets. Anything British. Silver spoons. Sports memorabilia. Antique Christmas ornaments. Enough books to open a block long book emporium.
About an hour before I was to take her to the airport, she suddenly decided she had to buy something that was manufactured in my city, before she went home, so we hit the mall, and did some speed shopping. I think she ended up with some dishes and some maple syrup.
But as I was talking to her today, it was the same old Alisha, but there are some marked differences. That anger streak I had known back in the '80's had grown from 3 miles wide to say, about the Grand Canyon.
She was telling me about riding BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) on Friday afternoon and how she had gotten annoyed at some teenaged girls who were making some noise and acting stupid.
And how it had somehow escalated from her feeling frustrated at these kids to her standing up in the BART car and screaming at them with her MACE can drawn.
She then said there should be forced sterilization for stupid parents so they wouldn't have stupid kids. This might have been a funny line, but as she was telling the story she was practically hyperventilating with anger. And I was sitting there wondering...where's Alisha, the school mascot? The funny, sunny girl from high school?
I mean I should talk. I sit here everyday snarling and fuming about life and my mother, but to stand up in a public place with a can of mace drawn because some teenage girls are acting stupid? Sure teenagers are annoying, but still. Mace?
But it was still nice talking to her today. Unfortunately we talked for over an hour on my dime. But its still great to talk to her. Told her to keep a handle on that Mace as we hung up.
Now if only I could find the bottom half of that $100 quarter box.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty