2006-05-06 @ 10:00 a.m.
Ever notice how when you’re driving TO work you get all the red lights and when you’re driving home, they’re all green? Heh, well, maybe not, because I tend to get mostly red lights no matter where I’m going especially when I’m driving along the Boulevard to work. I’m not sure if it was the mood I was in the other morning, but the Boulevard kind of became a metaphor for my life. When I first turned onto it, near the yuppie grocery store, I was rocking out to the Beatles “All You Need is Love” and I happened to look over and saw this Jeep. The Jeep’s tire well on the back of the car was imprinted with big white letters which read, “Life is Good” and I was all about that.
“....all you need is love, all you need is love..love...love...love. All you need is Loooooveee!” Yeah, sing it John!
I wasn’t really due into work until 2:30 for a meeting with the two Jennifers and it was only 12:30, so I wasn’t in any real rush. I was just going to work on some posters our Office Manager had asked me to do and considering I’ve only worked a measly 3 hours this week, I was happy to go. Unfortunately traffic was somewhat snarled due to the fact, that the moment the last snow flake falls, large orange construction cones are generally thrown up and roads are instantly plowed under like large asphalt corn fields, making life particularly miserable for a car like mine which has no shock absorbers. And then throw in the fact, that once people are strapped into their cars, all manner of courtesy and sanity are generally squeezed out of their everlovin’ bodies and they suddenly become dickweeds from hell...riding on your ass, cutting you off, sneering down at you from their monolithic SUVs, as they sip from their Starbucks cups. Yeah, you know who you are....
Well, screw you! And Screw your big old SUV! And Screw your triple Latte. And Screw......” Heh, heh. As you can see, we’ve gotten to the part of my life, and the point in the Boulevard where I get to gaze up at the incredibly inspiring “Screw it” billboard....
Isn’t that awesome? And awe-inspiring? And just totally appropriate after
I actually think I’m having a Mid-Life Crisis. Can girls have those? I know generally if men have them, they usually just have to hire a hooker to work through it. I’m not really sure what I can do though. I had a difficult session with “A” yesterday. I wasn’t feeling well anyways (sinus headache), but gah. It wasn’t pretty.
About the only thing that continues to be okay is my art life. I did my Tuesday night portrait class with the hottie Eye-talian art teacher. Although I did get frustrated initially. We’ve had the same model three weeks in a row now, but this week we changed drawing angles. I get bored easily. I guess its the bipolar thing. I started to draw. Nothing. Ugly eye. She looked like a satanic pitbull....the poor woman. I was about ready to admit defeat, but fortunately he came over and gave me some private coaching...as well he should, since he’s my teacher. He said to squint, so I would only see the lights and darks on the image and then draw from that. He also said not to try and draw an eyeball first. It’ll mess things up. So after that I was sitting there squinting like some middle aged pirate....Arggggh! Squint. Arrggghhh! Squint! It did come out a lot better the second time and yeah, but yeah, I mostly liked getting attention from the hottie Eye-talian art teacher.
Wednesday had me back at my nekkid drawing class. That’s really my only social life and I’ve been missing a lot of classes recently because I’m burned out. But with my renewed “Squint and arghhhh!” technique in place, I decided to give it another try. Our Fearless Art Leader seemed happy to see me and was in a very goofy and good mood, because money is starting to pour in for our event in two weeks.
About the only fly in the ointment was the model. I know, again, I’m whining about the model, but hey, when they’re the stars of your sketchpad, you have the right to have an opinion. And this model is my icky, icky, icky least favorite model. The Nazi. Ewww! I can’t stand her. She’s like in her late 50’s. Terrible haircut. Two legs as thick as redwood trees. And she does all these degrading to women poses that make me go squinky. I mean, hiking your leg up like you’re a dog taking a leak against a tree does not constitute a pose, Hilda.
Plus she always wants to see your drawings afterwards and I’m really in charge on whether anyone sees my artwork, ya know? Some work I’m proud of, some I’m not. And also, if I’m in “a mood” I might do something rude like a did Wednesday night.
I sat in a different place than usual, because I’ve been having trouble with foreshortening, so I sat on the side of the stage rather than at the end of it. I did miss sitting with “L” the Hippy Chick. “L” was really on a roll during the snack break. I was telling her about the apparent censorship of the rock star nipple at the YMCA and she flipped out about what a one horse town this was and was suddenly saying, “Yeah, I’d bipolar, bipartisan, bisexual, bi-everything...who gives a shit!” I burst out laughing. The things you learn about people over chipotle dip.
Anyways, when I went back to my art desk, the Nazi Model was hovering and wanted to see my work. I really didn’t want to show her, because I had done one of my little rude things. I had made her ass about 3 times wider than it actually was (I was protesting that she was turned away from me during one of the longer poses) and then, well, I kinda put a pseudo-zipper in her back. Heh! It was just a little one.
Her: “Ah, your werrk iz very colorful.” and then she leaned in for a closer look. “And you put ah zhipper in mein back? Why iz zhat?”
What am I going to tell her? So we can unzip you to see if you’re fresh?
At this point, I can’t really remember what I told her. I think I just pled guilty to drawing a zipper in her back and then strangely....for the last hour pose of the evening, she turned right towards me and gave me the Full Monty. (...me starting to shiver in cold, stark terror...) Did I mention that when she did that I packed up and left?
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty