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2004-09-26 @ 11:11 p.m.
another opening, another show

The receptionist at the front desk of my case mgmt. place is a really funny girl named Cherry. Her nickname is DeLovely, and she certainly earns it. She is always cracking jokes and singing. I really like her. I remember when I originally started going there, I was really touched that she remembered me on my second visit. Thanks DeLovely.

Now like any good reception desk, she is in direct alignment with the entrance of the office and the elevator. In other words, nobody gets by DeLovely...ever. But on Friday morning, there was a very tall African American gentleman talking to her, blocking the entrance. So what did I do? I played this spirited little game of hide and go seek around the edge of the guy. I peeked at Cherry around the right edge of his arm and then momentarily popped up over his left shoulder and then peeked around left side of his waist. Cherry started cracking up uncontrollably. Yes, its hard to believe I'm 46, but I knew it would make her laugh, so it was worth it.

But then the guy turned around to see what was going on. It was the guy who I had had my job interview with on Monday.

Whoops. heh. heh. Fruck. Whadda ya say we add these to my special job skills? The fact that I like to play peek-a-boo like a 4 year old.

Fortunately he was smiling so hopefully he saw it for what it was. Me being playful and silly....possibly a good thing for a peer mentor. At least I hope so.

So Saturday was finally the opening of my drawing class art show. I tried to ignore its existence all day, so I wouldn't be nervous. And I went through all my usual, "I'm not a real artist, I'm a fraud, I shouldn't even be there" shit. And it was really strong. Not sure if it was because of PMS or whether I was feeling poorly about myself because of the Married Guy situation. I even wrote a friend an e-mail mid-afternoon and totally trashed myself. Yay witty!

Should I go to the opening reception or shouldn't I go? If I do go, I'll have to own up to my artwork which I normally draw and then slam the cover of my sketchbook so nobody can see it. And yet I wanted to go, because I wanted to see the other artist's work. I wanted to be able to support my drawing class. And, yes, I wanted to see my artwork hanging in an art gallery, but dammit, I knew somebody would ask if it was mine. And I was afraid I would start apologizing for it.

I also knew the other work would be really great. We had some really great art at our show in February. They were so beautiful and so stunning, and so lovely, therefore what the hell was my squiggly etch-a-sketch doodle-rama doing in the middle of them all. Providing contrast? Like a Before and After picture. Like if you take this class, you'll start out drawing like this (witty's picture) and end up drawing like this (johnson's picture)?

So I got dressed for the art reception, but then fell back on my bed. I was actually shaking. I mean, I had taken a clonopin 45 minutes earlier and already had some quality time at the porcelain altar, but I wasn't sure if I could go. Suffering from anxiety related problems is such a pain in the ass. And to think, "A" wants me to start dating guys from Match. Yeah, I can see THAT happening.

Really the only thing that got me off that bed was that my Eye-talian landlord's entire family was outside pouring cement in my basement (obviously getting rid of some poor hapless witness protection program informant) and they were all yelling at each other so loud, it was like listening to a Sopranos episode at top volume.

So I got to the gallery. Johnson greeted me heartily. He had to make his usual joke about hanging my artwork upside down. It's a tradition. He did that last February. Hey, if it looks better upside down then go for it.

I saw "L" the hippy lady. She really is a hippy. She does whimsical little watercolors. We both like Broadway musicals. We chatted for a moment. And then I walked around looking at the show. Saw the monstrosity.

And rather ironically it was right next to "K"s. He's the guy who I've been semi-chasing all potential art class husband #2, who reminds me of Woody Allen (not in looks, but in persona). He's a very talented artist. Big bold work, which belies his shy nature. Kind of like me. It was actually a piece of work he had had in the show last February. I think Johnson was hurting for artwork, so he took repeats. I was thankful it was his though.

My picture last February had been hung next to a giant penis. I mean, the entire 16X20 canvas was a massive well executed 3D penis that actually threatened to poke people in the eye as they walked by. And this was an oil painting. At least "K"s work was complimentary to mine...and didn't threaten physical harm to the viewer.

Slowly people started to show up. There was M the Male Exhibitionist model who I think was there looking for drawings of himself (there were two). He looked at me, but didn't do his usual "Hi, I'm naked and have a large penis, how are you?" thing. He just ignored me. Saw another of our female models. Ave. Sorry hon. Nobody drew you. You're kinda boring. I knew she expected to see herself up on every canvas. She just seems to be the type.

Finally "K" showed up. I said hi, and then pointed out that our pictures were next to each other, like maybe we should get married or something. I guess he's just not interested. He didn't say much. Get a clue witty. Saw "J", my first potential art class husband come in with his wife. She seemed to move in closer to him, when I said hi to him. She must know I am a world class husband stealer.

And I am, you know. Not.

The severely disabled women with cerebral palsy was there too, with her health aide. She had a piece in the show, which I actually really liked. It was a scribbly pen thing with blobs of water color on it. It was cool, especially considering she can barely hold a brush. She also had a business card tucked in her frame with the information that she designs cards and has artwork for sale. I wish I had her balls. You go disabled woman!

I talked to her aide for quite a while. He was an African American gentleman. He told me he was an artist and writer too. He liked my work. ("And you're blind too I see") It was funny, but as he was talking it was obvious, he was trying to impress me with his life. I'm not used to people trying to impress me. I'm only wittykitty after all. What's up with that? Stop it now or you'll be condemned to a life with a neurotic, insecure, but somewhat funny woman.

But its the second time in a week that someone has done that. Last weekend it was that older guy "E" in my art class. He was trying to say things that would make himself look cool in my eyes. I'm not used to that. You really don't have to say things to impress me. Really. Just be nice. And don't vote Republican.

I finally ended up walking around the gallery around 7-8 times. I really wanted to take in everyone's art and try to accept the fact that maybe my artwork wasn't so horrifying awful. I never have and never will draw realistically and I have to learn to accept the fact that I have my own style. I actually have a bunch of different styles. It really depends on which bipolar muse is on duty when I sit down to draw. I guess maybe I should feel sorry for those people who just draw the same thing over and over again. They may be beautiful, but I'd rather go Picasso's route. Something new and different every day. I wonder if Picasso was bipolar?

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty