I'm actually the optimistic sort, expecting the best to happen, figuring I'll learn and apply what I learned.
In my lapse of not reading Bloglines for a while ( I still have some of you to go), the dreaded pregnancy/new baby folder swelled to over 500 entries. In an act of courage and stupidity, I decided to tackle it.
Approximately every other blog was pregnant or had a brand new baby. I'm not even exaggerating. The shear numbers were completely unexpected. Operating in mistaken self-preseveration, I kept thinking, "No, this next one couldn't be," but it was.
I didn't understand, because most were in that folder because they (generally) got treatment to get pregnant in the first place and then they got their miracle baby allotment. Now they're working on bonuses.
Most days, I am fine being an over the hill infertile. In my life day to day, it rarely rears its head. I can talk to baby people just fine. However, the blog version of this scenario just isn't working for me. Although they couldn't really care less about me as a reader or an unfortunate individual, it feels cruel to learn how truly easy it becomes for some, how they cross back over that fence to stay. It feels like they weren't really infertile, that we were all fooled for a time.
Of course, I don't really believe these things, nor do I think an infertile's pregnancy is directed at my tender psyche, but it sure feels that way as I read entry after entry in a folder of infertiles, who rolled surprise pregnancies in Las Vegas or in their own damn bedrooms.
I wish I'd been so lucky. Reading that folder was overwhelming and it opened old wounds. I wish them all well, but mostly I wished myself well, too, but came up short. I don't think I will force myself to read that folder again. I really learned this time.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Hello, It's Me
That song by Todd Rundgren is my favorite ever.
I love his freaky eyebrows. He looks similarly in other videos. Not sure if that's his thing or if he's a victim of his times. There are different interpretations of the lyrics, but he sounds contrite, yet hopeful, as if he knows it's over, doesn't want it to be, and he'll take what he can get. Before reading the link, I didn't know it was written as if on the telephone.
Today is better than yesterday. After I got the lithium, I was pretty together as soon as it hit my system. I was wiped out this morning, though. Had a hard time getting up, after many snoozes, and I figure it's related.
It's a bad day for stress, as in my fog of late, I did not deposit my support check from ex from the beginning of the month. He inquired yesterday, then kindly dropped another check off this morning. I need to make it to the bank. I am very nervous.
I am much too quasi about finances. It taxes my brain and drains me. It's like I can only be together about one thing at a time and being good about finances would mean I would not have the energy for anything else. Ex said I was a bad business partner; it's true. It needs to be somebody else's job.
I look at energy as a measured quantity. I despise when something extraneous steals energy. You don't know how often I want to use the expression, "I don't chew my cud twice."
Still no news from the art center about the judging. I emailed with the other artist going through it and she says she plans to give her a week. She said something about being scared about getting in. I don't fear that as much as I just want to know one way or the other.
I love his freaky eyebrows. He looks similarly in other videos. Not sure if that's his thing or if he's a victim of his times. There are different interpretations of the lyrics, but he sounds contrite, yet hopeful, as if he knows it's over, doesn't want it to be, and he'll take what he can get. Before reading the link, I didn't know it was written as if on the telephone.
Today is better than yesterday. After I got the lithium, I was pretty together as soon as it hit my system. I was wiped out this morning, though. Had a hard time getting up, after many snoozes, and I figure it's related.
It's a bad day for stress, as in my fog of late, I did not deposit my support check from ex from the beginning of the month. He inquired yesterday, then kindly dropped another check off this morning. I need to make it to the bank. I am very nervous.
I am much too quasi about finances. It taxes my brain and drains me. It's like I can only be together about one thing at a time and being good about finances would mean I would not have the energy for anything else. Ex said I was a bad business partner; it's true. It needs to be somebody else's job.
I look at energy as a measured quantity. I despise when something extraneous steals energy. You don't know how often I want to use the expression, "I don't chew my cud twice."
Still no news from the art center about the judging. I emailed with the other artist going through it and she says she plans to give her a week. She said something about being scared about getting in. I don't fear that as much as I just want to know one way or the other.
Monday, January 12, 2009
I'm sorry, again
I think of posting often. Just like I just read on another blogger, I get stymied. I figure that if I'm blogging often, I can just drop in for a quickie. After an absence, though, I need a slow, comfortable entry. A quickie rant might suit, but it isn't quite respectful.
No, I'm not talking about sex.
At present, I believe I'm going through lithium withdrawals. This happens a day or two after I run out. I have run out b/c I was out of refills. Of course, I had a script in my purse, but I forgot, so the pharmacy must go through the deal to call the doctor.
I was also out of my cholesterol med; my cholesterol is down to 184 because of it this last year and a half. The pharmacy called me today and said I'm no longer a patient with my GP, so he can't refill it. I gave up on getting into my first GP after a couple years, then deferred to going to this guy the last, oh, say, five years. I saw where the first doctor was going to some pre-pay plan, but never saw where my doctor was going. I figured the practice was splitting up. Apparently this occurred last May, however, I KNOW that since last May they have done a refill renewal on something. The office wench told me today that I had not been there since October 07, so there wasn't possibly a thing he could do for me. I asked her if I was supposed to feign sickness in order to have two mild, chronic illnesses treated - cholesterol and asthma - and clog their appointment system for nothing.
So I got a referral to another doctor, an expense I am conscious of during a very lean month. Of course, they can't have my records on such short notice, so I can't combine trips on the 10 miles up there an back to my appt Thursday. And they want me to drop off something in writing, not give something in writing when I pick it up. So this will be three trips for a total of 60+ miles. AND I'M NOT EVEN FUCKING SICK!
Add to these series of phone calls the friendly county water checker guy came by and asked me to turn off my water so he could check for leaks. There'd been a complaint about water on the sidewalk. Obviously, the person hasn't been here long, as it is like this every winter BECAUSE OF THE FUCKING POOR DRAINAGE THAT THE SEWER ARM OF THE FUCKING COUNTY WON'T CORRECT. Sheesh.
Back to the lithium withdrawals. Before Gianna, I thought I would get whacked from bpd mental illness the instant I came off of lithium, that there must be some huge rebound effect. Because of this impatience/crankiness/mania, I am religiously good about refills. This time, there was the extra kink, tough. Anyway, Gianna showed me the light that it isn't my mental illness kicking in, it is withdrawals. It happens the same way each time I'm off for a few days. It is withdrawals. I am not an extra dose of crazy. However, I don't want to come off; I otherwise tolerate it just fine.
Otherwise, things are going well. I am waiting to hear if I was juried into the art center. Was supposed to hear Friday, so it's really working on me. Cool thing is that I'm now hanging, well, you know what I mean, in a gallery and in a government building. This week, I'll be adding a senior center and in a few weeks there will be a coffee/pastry shop, too.
Winter is killing me, because I want so badly to paint outside. Because of the bad lot of paper I got, the fall wasn't as fruitful as I'd hoped. So I am TRYING to paint from pictures I took of CA over Thanksgiving. And I am going to take a class beginning on Wednesday. I want to support the new art center and I am thrilled that they are offering pastel classes, but I'm sad that the classes don't go. The one I'm taking isn't the one I wanted to, but the other two didn't go. This one is with my old pastel teacher who drove me crazy - would not show up prepared for class, talked about people's grandchildren instead of instructing, no demos, no critiques, wanted to pick up pastels to work on your piece instead of being able to tell you what to do...
Nationally recognized and winner of shows, she was my first pastel teacher four years ago and I took her on/off for about 1.5 years until I began working outside almost exclusively. It has been awkward when I see her at various meetings, as I really do feel like she held out on important details concerning my questions years ago about the business of art - photographing works, joining societies, exhibiting, etc - sort of like she was trying to keep me in a certain place. It took me longer, perhaps, but I am in a good place nonetheless. We get along just fine as people, just not as artists or instructor/pupil. It's a very good thing that I have therapy directly after her class!
Okay, there are much, much worse things in the world than I've described. It's basically going well. Today is not good, but it should be better tomorrow once I make it to the pharmacy.
Val, I have not forgotten you. Not in the least. I have psyched myself out about it and I am figuring a way around it.
No, I'm not talking about sex.
At present, I believe I'm going through lithium withdrawals. This happens a day or two after I run out. I have run out b/c I was out of refills. Of course, I had a script in my purse, but I forgot, so the pharmacy must go through the deal to call the doctor.
I was also out of my cholesterol med; my cholesterol is down to 184 because of it this last year and a half. The pharmacy called me today and said I'm no longer a patient with my GP, so he can't refill it. I gave up on getting into my first GP after a couple years, then deferred to going to this guy the last, oh, say, five years. I saw where the first doctor was going to some pre-pay plan, but never saw where my doctor was going. I figured the practice was splitting up. Apparently this occurred last May, however, I KNOW that since last May they have done a refill renewal on something. The office wench told me today that I had not been there since October 07, so there wasn't possibly a thing he could do for me. I asked her if I was supposed to feign sickness in order to have two mild, chronic illnesses treated - cholesterol and asthma - and clog their appointment system for nothing.
So I got a referral to another doctor, an expense I am conscious of during a very lean month. Of course, they can't have my records on such short notice, so I can't combine trips on the 10 miles up there an back to my appt Thursday. And they want me to drop off something in writing, not give something in writing when I pick it up. So this will be three trips for a total of 60+ miles. AND I'M NOT EVEN FUCKING SICK!
Add to these series of phone calls the friendly county water checker guy came by and asked me to turn off my water so he could check for leaks. There'd been a complaint about water on the sidewalk. Obviously, the person hasn't been here long, as it is like this every winter BECAUSE OF THE FUCKING POOR DRAINAGE THAT THE SEWER ARM OF THE FUCKING COUNTY WON'T CORRECT. Sheesh.
Back to the lithium withdrawals. Before Gianna, I thought I would get whacked from bpd mental illness the instant I came off of lithium, that there must be some huge rebound effect. Because of this impatience/crankiness/mania, I am religiously good about refills. This time, there was the extra kink, tough. Anyway, Gianna showed me the light that it isn't my mental illness kicking in, it is withdrawals. It happens the same way each time I'm off for a few days. It is withdrawals. I am not an extra dose of crazy. However, I don't want to come off; I otherwise tolerate it just fine.
Otherwise, things are going well. I am waiting to hear if I was juried into the art center. Was supposed to hear Friday, so it's really working on me. Cool thing is that I'm now hanging, well, you know what I mean, in a gallery and in a government building. This week, I'll be adding a senior center and in a few weeks there will be a coffee/pastry shop, too.
Winter is killing me, because I want so badly to paint outside. Because of the bad lot of paper I got, the fall wasn't as fruitful as I'd hoped. So I am TRYING to paint from pictures I took of CA over Thanksgiving. And I am going to take a class beginning on Wednesday. I want to support the new art center and I am thrilled that they are offering pastel classes, but I'm sad that the classes don't go. The one I'm taking isn't the one I wanted to, but the other two didn't go. This one is with my old pastel teacher who drove me crazy - would not show up prepared for class, talked about people's grandchildren instead of instructing, no demos, no critiques, wanted to pick up pastels to work on your piece instead of being able to tell you what to do...
Nationally recognized and winner of shows, she was my first pastel teacher four years ago and I took her on/off for about 1.5 years until I began working outside almost exclusively. It has been awkward when I see her at various meetings, as I really do feel like she held out on important details concerning my questions years ago about the business of art - photographing works, joining societies, exhibiting, etc - sort of like she was trying to keep me in a certain place. It took me longer, perhaps, but I am in a good place nonetheless. We get along just fine as people, just not as artists or instructor/pupil. It's a very good thing that I have therapy directly after her class!
Okay, there are much, much worse things in the world than I've described. It's basically going well. Today is not good, but it should be better tomorrow once I make it to the pharmacy.
Val, I have not forgotten you. Not in the least. I have psyched myself out about it and I am figuring a way around it.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
I suck, I know
Haven't done any blogging or art. But J did get the contraptions off his teeth yesterday - for the end of the first phase - he'll get them back in two years. His dad came home Saturday and will see him for the first time this afternoon.Funny, J has chapped lips clear to his nose and I'd thought of skipping the picture for that reason, but opted not to. See, he missed school pictures this year due to his trip West with his dad in Oct, then was in PE when they called his grade for make ups. Oh, was I pissed when I later found out. School pictures are not an option for him, I told him. They are for his mother. And the yearbook. We we are both lacking.
So we went to Wally's for the "cheap" make up version. Ha! Instead of a $25 set at school, this was $125. In a whim, I got in a few, too. In my sweats. I figured if he was going to have a whole chapped mouth, then I could do it in sweats.
I made plans to see Lyd in Seattle at the end of February. Her best friend from HS, someone she hung out with a lot the last year or two as well, lives there. Moved up in August or so in true lesbian fashion - met a woman online and rented the UHaul within two months. Life on the edge.
Because Lyd and I have the same phone carrier and talking is free, we spend too much time on the phone. I think it's why I'm not blogging, or painting for that matter.
I'll do better and get it all together. I hope each of you are doing very well.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
I'm also overdue for some blog reading
I'm embarrassed that some of my favorite blogs have 20 posts waiting on me to read. My Baby/EDA folder stands at 194 entries. At 200, it'll stop adding them.
I really don't want to miss any news and will try to buckle down later today. I am so sorry to have not kept up or commented. Thank you if you commented here nonetheless.
Also on the slate for today - birds and bees. They'll do the videos at school for 5th graders in a week. I watched them Friday in the school library on my own. I have been woefully shy about having an informed son, which is really contrary to my world view and I am embarrassed. I'll try to make up for it today. The school's videos and slides really concentrated on the effects of puberty, what happens with fertilization, and the types of STDs there are. The latter just curled my toes, as all viral ones were linked together and associated with things like death. Ugh.
None talked about what sex is or specifically how that damn sperm is deposited in order to meet that damn egg. I just shake my head thinking how easy the union sounds and how scared all girls (in particular) are of their own fertility. Funny how that plays out for some of us. Or, actually, not so funny.
I got an interesting email from a local woman I'd emailed maybe two months ago. She'd seen my ad much like the Indian woman did, but she was in the process of moving, seemed quite busy, so we lost touch. Imagine my surprise to get her email today saying she'd met this Indian woman (although she wasn't her type), discussed this online source, and then my name came up. Jeez, it is a small world. Apparently the Indian woman did not disclose the reason she thought she and I were so incompatible, so this woman contacted me for another go around.
It is plum amazing. I guess one or the other of them put up an ad there. I had only done the one ad, got maybe 6-8 people who responded, but only had two people I'd go out with. These two people. Eerie, huh?
I haven't decided whether or not to pursue it. The Indian woman scared me too much. I appreciate her not blabbing my personal business, but I kind of feel like she's setting me up. Yeah, I'm paranoid.
At present, I don't want to consider myself to be in an exclusive relationship with Lyd. I have this capacity (good or bad) to compartmentalize feelings and not want or demand more out of a person than I am able to accept. I have that sort of relationship with Richard as well. I love him, but I don't have to possess him. Of course, Lyd does not think in these terms.
Let me get to sleep and recharge for a big day.
I really don't want to miss any news and will try to buckle down later today. I am so sorry to have not kept up or commented. Thank you if you commented here nonetheless.
Also on the slate for today - birds and bees. They'll do the videos at school for 5th graders in a week. I watched them Friday in the school library on my own. I have been woefully shy about having an informed son, which is really contrary to my world view and I am embarrassed. I'll try to make up for it today. The school's videos and slides really concentrated on the effects of puberty, what happens with fertilization, and the types of STDs there are. The latter just curled my toes, as all viral ones were linked together and associated with things like death. Ugh.
None talked about what sex is or specifically how that damn sperm is deposited in order to meet that damn egg. I just shake my head thinking how easy the union sounds and how scared all girls (in particular) are of their own fertility. Funny how that plays out for some of us. Or, actually, not so funny.
I got an interesting email from a local woman I'd emailed maybe two months ago. She'd seen my ad much like the Indian woman did, but she was in the process of moving, seemed quite busy, so we lost touch. Imagine my surprise to get her email today saying she'd met this Indian woman (although she wasn't her type), discussed this online source, and then my name came up. Jeez, it is a small world. Apparently the Indian woman did not disclose the reason she thought she and I were so incompatible, so this woman contacted me for another go around.
It is plum amazing. I guess one or the other of them put up an ad there. I had only done the one ad, got maybe 6-8 people who responded, but only had two people I'd go out with. These two people. Eerie, huh?
I haven't decided whether or not to pursue it. The Indian woman scared me too much. I appreciate her not blabbing my personal business, but I kind of feel like she's setting me up. Yeah, I'm paranoid.
At present, I don't want to consider myself to be in an exclusive relationship with Lyd. I have this capacity (good or bad) to compartmentalize feelings and not want or demand more out of a person than I am able to accept. I have that sort of relationship with Richard as well. I love him, but I don't have to possess him. Of course, Lyd does not think in these terms.
Let me get to sleep and recharge for a big day.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
I'm overdue for a post
You probably know that when something goes well, you just want to bask in it and not dissect it.
We all had a great time over Thanksgiving. Virgin America is supreme with their individual touch screens and ordering menu. Way cool with the technology. Going out, I watched three Housewives of Orange County in preparation. Also saw a couple Top Chef but for architecture students shows.
We got in late and stayed in LA the first night, Monday. Lyd met us there after she got of work and had lucked into being off until Saturday. Got up and went to Ft. Irwin CA to see the desert and get a satellite tour. We met up with an old co-worker of hers and spent a fun evening at her house with her family, who Lyd knew well. Drove back to her home and stayed over. Met her step dad (a chatty good old boy type) and her mother (a frenzied psycho control freak and she showed her butt for us.) I'd gotten a painting framed for Lyd and to match her room. Unfortunately, I decided to present it to her mother for their "home," although Lyd had already "claimed" it. Of course, her mother didn't claim to hear the Lyd part, promptly took something off the wall, and put mine up. I was crushed for Lyd, but you can't go up against her mother. It's freaky. Instead, I'll paint Lyd another of these particular eucalyptus trees she likes, so it'll be more personal anyway.
We went almost 2000 miles and I took almost 2000 pictures. I'll have plenty of subjects to paint once I force myself to paint from photographs.
That day, we went over to Monterey. I'd been raining pretty much the whole time we were there and continued that way. We had dinner at the Fisherman's Wharf and then drove through San Francisco wayyyy up to Eureka for about 13 hours of travel that day. I drove the few hours and made Lyd sick in the mountains; she's a primo wuss. Can't believe the speed limit was 65 on those mountain roads. I'm a good driver, but she didn't let me drive again. Instead, we had to go more like 40 when she drove. After I got home Saturday, I told her on the phone that I would be doing the driving next time, even though we drove each other crazy. She said that if I drove, I couldn't take pictures and she has a point.
From Eureka, we came back south a little to the Avenue of the Giants and the Redwood Forest. It was like entering a different world. She'd never been before, either, so it was wonderful for us all to experience it together. We took a side trip to Ferndale to see the Victorian homes and another to the coast where we saw a lighthouse and a black sand beach. Going and coming, we picked up hitchhikers - despite her youth, Lyd is a throwback - and they both reeked of alcohol. We figured out that that 20 mile stretch of road over that mountain was these people's lifeline. They had no concept of ferigners in their parts, particularly on Thanksgiving without a special meal to attend. I asked one guy if they played banjos and it went straight over his head and he started talking about hip hop. I was biting my lip.
We did finally have Thanksgiving at the only restaurant we could find open. These little towns along there didn't even have gift shops or gas stations open, each barely with a couple buildings. This restaurant had the worst service I've gotten in a while. Starting off, it took forever to order, so I sent to the manager and politely asked if maybe we'd been forgotten. She replied with a classic line, "No, you haven't been forgotten. She's just slow as Moses." It was hilarious her ragging on her employee like that.
That night, we continued south back toward San Francisco. I never sleep, but I was nodding off so badly that I couldn't help with the drive. We stayed north of the city and toured the city until 1pm the next day. We took cable cars up, then a taxi down. He went down curvy Lombard for us. The best thing was Lyd's favorite place - a museum of old timey amusements, squashed pennies, player pianos, etc at one of the wharfs.
From here, we drove back down to LA for our red eye flight. All told, I painted six small paintings, a couple of which I am happy about. Lyd would randomly stop and I'd paint where we were, then she'd keep us on schedule and get us on the road. Carrying my pastels in their new trays and bag worked well. It was easy getting through the airport here, but LAX had more kinks. The little guy was overzealous, almost dumped a tray, had no comprehension of why I would be nervous, him defaulting to the idea I must be a drug smuggler or terrorist, and broke the zippers on each side of the special pastel bag - they seem to be self correcting, but I figure they're damaged.
For anyone who stops by the art blog, Lyd does read and comment anonymously there. She's very whimsical and, if there's a nonsense comment, it's from her. She's very supportive and I appreciate it so much. Through the week I complained that I didn't have enough grayed out pastels, then I blogged it with a link, thinking my father might take the hint. Instead, she ordered them immediately. She's very thoughtful and has a great heart. She planned the whole trip and did a great job; that's usually my role and it was wonderful turning it over.
I had faith the trip would turn out well and I am relieved that it did. I'm glad we only spent one night at her house. I don't do egg shells well and admire her for being able to be the caretaker for both of them as well as her even worse princess of a grandmother, who I only saw briefly.
I really think a lot of her and am in awe of how she takes care of me and feels for me. And how good she is to my son.
We all had a great time over Thanksgiving. Virgin America is supreme with their individual touch screens and ordering menu. Way cool with the technology. Going out, I watched three Housewives of Orange County in preparation. Also saw a couple Top Chef but for architecture students shows.
We got in late and stayed in LA the first night, Monday. Lyd met us there after she got of work and had lucked into being off until Saturday. Got up and went to Ft. Irwin CA to see the desert and get a satellite tour. We met up with an old co-worker of hers and spent a fun evening at her house with her family, who Lyd knew well. Drove back to her home and stayed over. Met her step dad (a chatty good old boy type) and her mother (a frenzied psycho control freak and she showed her butt for us.) I'd gotten a painting framed for Lyd and to match her room. Unfortunately, I decided to present it to her mother for their "home," although Lyd had already "claimed" it. Of course, her mother didn't claim to hear the Lyd part, promptly took something off the wall, and put mine up. I was crushed for Lyd, but you can't go up against her mother. It's freaky. Instead, I'll paint Lyd another of these particular eucalyptus trees she likes, so it'll be more personal anyway.
We went almost 2000 miles and I took almost 2000 pictures. I'll have plenty of subjects to paint once I force myself to paint from photographs.
That day, we went over to Monterey. I'd been raining pretty much the whole time we were there and continued that way. We had dinner at the Fisherman's Wharf and then drove through San Francisco wayyyy up to Eureka for about 13 hours of travel that day. I drove the few hours and made Lyd sick in the mountains; she's a primo wuss. Can't believe the speed limit was 65 on those mountain roads. I'm a good driver, but she didn't let me drive again. Instead, we had to go more like 40 when she drove. After I got home Saturday, I told her on the phone that I would be doing the driving next time, even though we drove each other crazy. She said that if I drove, I couldn't take pictures and she has a point.
From Eureka, we came back south a little to the Avenue of the Giants and the Redwood Forest. It was like entering a different world. She'd never been before, either, so it was wonderful for us all to experience it together. We took a side trip to Ferndale to see the Victorian homes and another to the coast where we saw a lighthouse and a black sand beach. Going and coming, we picked up hitchhikers - despite her youth, Lyd is a throwback - and they both reeked of alcohol. We figured out that that 20 mile stretch of road over that mountain was these people's lifeline. They had no concept of ferigners in their parts, particularly on Thanksgiving without a special meal to attend. I asked one guy if they played banjos and it went straight over his head and he started talking about hip hop. I was biting my lip.
We did finally have Thanksgiving at the only restaurant we could find open. These little towns along there didn't even have gift shops or gas stations open, each barely with a couple buildings. This restaurant had the worst service I've gotten in a while. Starting off, it took forever to order, so I sent to the manager and politely asked if maybe we'd been forgotten. She replied with a classic line, "No, you haven't been forgotten. She's just slow as Moses." It was hilarious her ragging on her employee like that.
That night, we continued south back toward San Francisco. I never sleep, but I was nodding off so badly that I couldn't help with the drive. We stayed north of the city and toured the city until 1pm the next day. We took cable cars up, then a taxi down. He went down curvy Lombard for us. The best thing was Lyd's favorite place - a museum of old timey amusements, squashed pennies, player pianos, etc at one of the wharfs.
From here, we drove back down to LA for our red eye flight. All told, I painted six small paintings, a couple of which I am happy about. Lyd would randomly stop and I'd paint where we were, then she'd keep us on schedule and get us on the road. Carrying my pastels in their new trays and bag worked well. It was easy getting through the airport here, but LAX had more kinks. The little guy was overzealous, almost dumped a tray, had no comprehension of why I would be nervous, him defaulting to the idea I must be a drug smuggler or terrorist, and broke the zippers on each side of the special pastel bag - they seem to be self correcting, but I figure they're damaged.
For anyone who stops by the art blog, Lyd does read and comment anonymously there. She's very whimsical and, if there's a nonsense comment, it's from her. She's very supportive and I appreciate it so much. Through the week I complained that I didn't have enough grayed out pastels, then I blogged it with a link, thinking my father might take the hint. Instead, she ordered them immediately. She's very thoughtful and has a great heart. She planned the whole trip and did a great job; that's usually my role and it was wonderful turning it over.
I had faith the trip would turn out well and I am relieved that it did. I'm glad we only spent one night at her house. I don't do egg shells well and admire her for being able to be the caretaker for both of them as well as her even worse princess of a grandmother, who I only saw briefly.
I really think a lot of her and am in awe of how she takes care of me and feels for me. And how good she is to my son.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Got your own back, Sista?
While you are chewing over the XBox vs. Wii debate, consider something else.
Besides packing and fearing my pastels will be dust upon arrival in CA, a strange drama has unfolded.
Last Monday or so, a woman on a dating website started a new thread saying she was disappointed in a man with whom she'd been emailing. He finally said he wasn't interested several days after she divulged that she has a bipolar 14yo son. I've seen plenty of posts about this boy in the past - he's stayed in residential facilities, she hasn't worked in the last year in order to care for him, she moved back to live by her parents so that he'd get care. Okay, the kid is troubled.
Anyway, she posted that the man dumped her because of her bipolar son. During the course of the threads with little details she'd dropped, I realized that the man was someone who'd I'd also been talking to and he seemed like a very responsible father. He seemed honest and forthcoming, a good guy. She, on the other hand, was prone to hyperbole, or that was my opinion in the past.
I responded on that thread that I'd done my bit with a troubled teen and I sure would think twice about doing it again. Maybe the guy was saying that out of experience. Mostly I was thinking that she was being a martyr playing the sick kid card and he had plenty of other reasons to reject her.
He and I were scheduled for lunch on Saturday. We had a good time. At one point I brought up the post. The post was created in a pwp woman's section which is for girl's only, but I felt that it was appropriate to discuss it, b/c it related to a guy that I had a date with and I felt that we could discuss it in an adult fashion.
As I had suspected, he said he discontinued with her more b/c he was not attracted to her - she is not h/w proportionate at all, but her picture is creatively cropped; he got a fully body picture of her to realize that. He said it wasn't b/c of her son, but she went there with him in emails. He'd merely said that he understood she had her hands full with him. Anyway, she went off and he felt her unstable, something he'd already sensed. A few days later, he considerately emailed her and asked if she was doing alright. He got a terse, "I'm fine," and that was all.
I believed him, b/c I feel like he is genuine and a good father. I do not believe her b/c I have doubted her stories before. I think she embellishes an element and completely leaves out pertinent details, then tries to garner support. She also dropped entirely too many details in her post and made it too easy for me to figure out. That's her bad.
Well, I thought the guy was okay. However, he goes home from lunch and emails her to quit talking about him. Oy! Talk about stabbing me in the back!
She then starts another thread in this pwp girl's only section, saying there's a rat amongst the group who is blabbing details. It's become a witch hunt with the posts, because someone supposedly betrayed something confidential pertaining to the sisterhood.
First, I already had little respect for this woman. Second, me having a conversation about her thread was not to badmouth her; it was to interview this guy I had a date with. Third, I am absolutely positive that others discuss things within this email group with other members.
According to some, the rat is an unconscionable attention hog, which is funny b/c the rat hasn't spoken. Others say the rat is catty - as if this (sorry) whale of a woman (very Catholic, very martyry, very repressed) were even in the same category of a person as me.
I'm usually the upstanding type claiming what I should, but I do not feel like being ostracized over either of these two. I was justified in having a conversation about something that pertained to me - as in, if he didn't like bipolar people, there was no reason to continue.
Anyway, I haven't posted there all day, so I look busy. Then tomorrow we leave, so I won't be back into the mix for a week. I hope it blows over.
Women. Maybe I shouldn't be in the girl's club. I do not understand them.
Besides packing and fearing my pastels will be dust upon arrival in CA, a strange drama has unfolded.
Last Monday or so, a woman on a dating website started a new thread saying she was disappointed in a man with whom she'd been emailing. He finally said he wasn't interested several days after she divulged that she has a bipolar 14yo son. I've seen plenty of posts about this boy in the past - he's stayed in residential facilities, she hasn't worked in the last year in order to care for him, she moved back to live by her parents so that he'd get care. Okay, the kid is troubled.
Anyway, she posted that the man dumped her because of her bipolar son. During the course of the threads with little details she'd dropped, I realized that the man was someone who'd I'd also been talking to and he seemed like a very responsible father. He seemed honest and forthcoming, a good guy. She, on the other hand, was prone to hyperbole, or that was my opinion in the past.
I responded on that thread that I'd done my bit with a troubled teen and I sure would think twice about doing it again. Maybe the guy was saying that out of experience. Mostly I was thinking that she was being a martyr playing the sick kid card and he had plenty of other reasons to reject her.
He and I were scheduled for lunch on Saturday. We had a good time. At one point I brought up the post. The post was created in a pwp woman's section which is for girl's only, but I felt that it was appropriate to discuss it, b/c it related to a guy that I had a date with and I felt that we could discuss it in an adult fashion.
As I had suspected, he said he discontinued with her more b/c he was not attracted to her - she is not h/w proportionate at all, but her picture is creatively cropped; he got a fully body picture of her to realize that. He said it wasn't b/c of her son, but she went there with him in emails. He'd merely said that he understood she had her hands full with him. Anyway, she went off and he felt her unstable, something he'd already sensed. A few days later, he considerately emailed her and asked if she was doing alright. He got a terse, "I'm fine," and that was all.
I believed him, b/c I feel like he is genuine and a good father. I do not believe her b/c I have doubted her stories before. I think she embellishes an element and completely leaves out pertinent details, then tries to garner support. She also dropped entirely too many details in her post and made it too easy for me to figure out. That's her bad.
Well, I thought the guy was okay. However, he goes home from lunch and emails her to quit talking about him. Oy! Talk about stabbing me in the back!
She then starts another thread in this pwp girl's only section, saying there's a rat amongst the group who is blabbing details. It's become a witch hunt with the posts, because someone supposedly betrayed something confidential pertaining to the sisterhood.
First, I already had little respect for this woman. Second, me having a conversation about her thread was not to badmouth her; it was to interview this guy I had a date with. Third, I am absolutely positive that others discuss things within this email group with other members.
According to some, the rat is an unconscionable attention hog, which is funny b/c the rat hasn't spoken. Others say the rat is catty - as if this (sorry) whale of a woman (very Catholic, very martyry, very repressed) were even in the same category of a person as me.
I'm usually the upstanding type claiming what I should, but I do not feel like being ostracized over either of these two. I was justified in having a conversation about something that pertained to me - as in, if he didn't like bipolar people, there was no reason to continue.
Anyway, I haven't posted there all day, so I look busy. Then tomorrow we leave, so I won't be back into the mix for a week. I hope it blows over.
Women. Maybe I shouldn't be in the girl's club. I do not understand them.
Before we leave...
I want to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving! And that you eat hearty, but each lose two pounds. Except Aunt Becky who must only maintain.
While I'm away basking in Sunny California, which is supposed to be rainy, I have a request of you. Tell me all about these Wii things and XBox 360 monsters. I hate such, but my mother wants to get us a Wii for Xmas without J's knowledge. He has an old PS2 at his father's and it seems like the world revolves around him getting new games.
Without him knowing my mother's specifics, he really doesn't want a Wii, says XBox 360 does most things a Wii can do, plus much more. And it comes with two games now.
My mother wants me to buy it and she'll pay me back. Well, I haven't bought it yet, b/c I really don't want to front it right now.
Do you know of these things I speak? Do you have guidance?
While I'm away basking in Sunny California, which is supposed to be rainy, I have a request of you. Tell me all about these Wii things and XBox 360 monsters. I hate such, but my mother wants to get us a Wii for Xmas without J's knowledge. He has an old PS2 at his father's and it seems like the world revolves around him getting new games.
Without him knowing my mother's specifics, he really doesn't want a Wii, says XBox 360 does most things a Wii can do, plus much more. And it comes with two games now.
My mother wants me to buy it and she'll pay me back. Well, I haven't bought it yet, b/c I really don't want to front it right now.
Do you know of these things I speak? Do you have guidance?
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Stress regardless of season
Thank you so much for each and every comment.
My gyn/thyroid doctor had changed me to Armour in April. As always, she started low and titrated upward. It is a slow process and I want it to be slow, seeings how I've had two thyroxine overdoses already. So she raised me from 75ug to 90 on Friday. Maybe it'll work, may it'll need more.
It takes a lot of energy and mindfulness to keep track and figure out which is causing what symptom. It can make one a little paranoid about symptoms, which in itself might be a side effect due to either too little thyroxine (ie depression and anxiety) or to too much thyroxine (ie mania.)
Like Bridge said, it's nice if you can err on the side of too much thyroxine. I lost 30lbs that first year and sure could use the boost again, although the heightened anxiety is causes does not feel good. I don't like second guessing everything I say, even as I am bursting at the seams to say it!
As a side, I've had a presumably related scalp issue since August, although it's not the first time I've had it. It is broken out, kind of acne-like, but also very dry and crusty; it's painful and one is compelled to scratch it. The bumps are also along all of my hairline, but especially in the back and behind my ears. It is visible. I've read boards where many people describe this very thing and have no cause or cure. I've been wondering if it's thyroid-related, so we'll see.
In related fashion concerning confounding dosages, I am taking it slowly on the Concerta prescribed by my psychiatrist Friday; it is essentially Ritalin. I plan to begin it in a few weeks, because I don't want the change to be confounded by the change in my thyroid med, too.
I felt somewhat better on Friday than Thursday, but then I started spotting on Saturday and I figured Thursday may have been to a progesterone drop, something to which I am very sensitive. The thing is that I'd had my period (they're very light since I came off bcps and they only last 2-3 days with only 24 or so in between) just the Saturday before, so it never occurred to me that my crash might be progesterone-related.
Add peri-menopause or, I guess, menopause to the mix.
The show/demonstration thing on Saturday went well. It was fun meeting people. One lady is a lab person like me. She wants to paint, buys the supplies, mat cutters, etc to paint, then doesn't. She even had a topic in mind she wanted to paint, inquired at a gallery if they had one on this topic and they did, so she bought it instead of painting. She gave me a card in case I ever need a job, which I am glad of, with ex returning from Iraq in a month to no job. I worked for two years for the very company she began with this year as a project manager.
This lady has perfectionist's disease. She needs to just get dirty with abandon; classes would be good for her. When you realize that every painting doesn't have to be a masterpiece, it is liberating. Then, you discover that everybody has different tastes and your opinion of a painting doesn't matter if it speaks to someone else; it can be a masterpiece to them.
I've had a hard time producing art effectively lately. Either I had a chatty security guard (one session) or bad paper (four sessions) and it's gotten me down. I also post on an arts community for feedback sometimes. I try to put their advice into play sometimes and it is counter-intuitive. I wreck a piece with studio work, something that was perfectly plein air, meaning it was fresh, spontaneous, and perhaps a little bit fuzzy or stylized from being done on site with a moving sun.
Although I need to take critique, I need to maybe not respond to it. Anyway, I ruined two paintings that way, but finished two others despite that. I guess I'm 50-50 lately in responding to suggestions.
The thing that put me over last week was being criticized for my framing. I'd brought two pieces to a meeting as part of a show and tell. This woman blurted out how pastels should be framed with a spacer next time I do it - as if I were an inexperienced idiot framer. I replied that all of my stuff is professionally framed and she blurted out, "A professional did that?!" I was mortified. She said she saw no space between the mat and the painting. I said I saw a small space. A space is put there so that errant pastel crumbles will fall away and be hidden, in particular, that they not fall down the front of the mat and soil it.
Anyway, this was occurring in front of over a dozen people. She's president of a different art society and she's seen as an authority figure. And now I feared being seen as a hacker with a cheap framer. I didn't mouth off about my framer's credentials, but he does all the pastels in the area, to include my old teacher, who is nationally recognized and even won a show this summer.
I am at a loss what to do, except bring another piece next month and firmly/nonchalantly say what my framer pointed out, b/c I went by to see him on Friday afternoon. Some pastels he frames like she says, with a spacer (often just another piece of mat board) between the matting and the painting. One thing he does not like about this is that the paper isn't secured by the mat and waffling occurs. The way he framed mine is called a reverse cut and it accounts for the small gap I saw. If the mat's bevel faces inward, it catches stray pastel and funnels it behind the mat. It also serves the purpose to be in contact with the painting and prevent it from waffling. He might have done mine that way because mine are quite burnished (I press the pastel into the sanded paper, so it isn't mobile) and behave.
I am finding that through another society it is a kiss of death to be considered amateur. This happening with this society was a surprise and I was very upset. I always figured my work would speak for itself, but I don't want to be chopped off at the knees over something stupid. That night, she quashed the mood and I only got one comment on each piece. I didn't feel that they were allowed to speak for themselves.
I really hate when artists are left brained and, it seems that in a right brained undertaking, there are an awful lot of left brained people. I'm right brained, but when taxed I swing into left brain overload.
Okay, if you're still with me, we have some really good news. J is finally getting his braces off in a month. Believe it or not, it's been 18 months since they were put on. I think they'll be off a week before his father gets home. I'm trying to change J's teeth cleaning appt to be in the days between the braces come off and when his dad gets home, just in case insurance changes really quickly.
Strange to think of ex potentially being unemployed soon. Hoo boy, does that impact me. I could well be bankrupt in two months.
So how was this peek into my stressors? I can't blame myself for reacting.
My gyn/thyroid doctor had changed me to Armour in April. As always, she started low and titrated upward. It is a slow process and I want it to be slow, seeings how I've had two thyroxine overdoses already. So she raised me from 75ug to 90 on Friday. Maybe it'll work, may it'll need more.
It takes a lot of energy and mindfulness to keep track and figure out which is causing what symptom. It can make one a little paranoid about symptoms, which in itself might be a side effect due to either too little thyroxine (ie depression and anxiety) or to too much thyroxine (ie mania.)
Like Bridge said, it's nice if you can err on the side of too much thyroxine. I lost 30lbs that first year and sure could use the boost again, although the heightened anxiety is causes does not feel good. I don't like second guessing everything I say, even as I am bursting at the seams to say it!
As a side, I've had a presumably related scalp issue since August, although it's not the first time I've had it. It is broken out, kind of acne-like, but also very dry and crusty; it's painful and one is compelled to scratch it. The bumps are also along all of my hairline, but especially in the back and behind my ears. It is visible. I've read boards where many people describe this very thing and have no cause or cure. I've been wondering if it's thyroid-related, so we'll see.
In related fashion concerning confounding dosages, I am taking it slowly on the Concerta prescribed by my psychiatrist Friday; it is essentially Ritalin. I plan to begin it in a few weeks, because I don't want the change to be confounded by the change in my thyroid med, too.
I felt somewhat better on Friday than Thursday, but then I started spotting on Saturday and I figured Thursday may have been to a progesterone drop, something to which I am very sensitive. The thing is that I'd had my period (they're very light since I came off bcps and they only last 2-3 days with only 24 or so in between) just the Saturday before, so it never occurred to me that my crash might be progesterone-related.
Add peri-menopause or, I guess, menopause to the mix.
The show/demonstration thing on Saturday went well. It was fun meeting people. One lady is a lab person like me. She wants to paint, buys the supplies, mat cutters, etc to paint, then doesn't. She even had a topic in mind she wanted to paint, inquired at a gallery if they had one on this topic and they did, so she bought it instead of painting. She gave me a card in case I ever need a job, which I am glad of, with ex returning from Iraq in a month to no job. I worked for two years for the very company she began with this year as a project manager.
This lady has perfectionist's disease. She needs to just get dirty with abandon; classes would be good for her. When you realize that every painting doesn't have to be a masterpiece, it is liberating. Then, you discover that everybody has different tastes and your opinion of a painting doesn't matter if it speaks to someone else; it can be a masterpiece to them.
I've had a hard time producing art effectively lately. Either I had a chatty security guard (one session) or bad paper (four sessions) and it's gotten me down. I also post on an arts community for feedback sometimes. I try to put their advice into play sometimes and it is counter-intuitive. I wreck a piece with studio work, something that was perfectly plein air, meaning it was fresh, spontaneous, and perhaps a little bit fuzzy or stylized from being done on site with a moving sun.
Although I need to take critique, I need to maybe not respond to it. Anyway, I ruined two paintings that way, but finished two others despite that. I guess I'm 50-50 lately in responding to suggestions.
The thing that put me over last week was being criticized for my framing. I'd brought two pieces to a meeting as part of a show and tell. This woman blurted out how pastels should be framed with a spacer next time I do it - as if I were an inexperienced idiot framer. I replied that all of my stuff is professionally framed and she blurted out, "A professional did that?!" I was mortified. She said she saw no space between the mat and the painting. I said I saw a small space. A space is put there so that errant pastel crumbles will fall away and be hidden, in particular, that they not fall down the front of the mat and soil it.
Anyway, this was occurring in front of over a dozen people. She's president of a different art society and she's seen as an authority figure. And now I feared being seen as a hacker with a cheap framer. I didn't mouth off about my framer's credentials, but he does all the pastels in the area, to include my old teacher, who is nationally recognized and even won a show this summer.
I am at a loss what to do, except bring another piece next month and firmly/nonchalantly say what my framer pointed out, b/c I went by to see him on Friday afternoon. Some pastels he frames like she says, with a spacer (often just another piece of mat board) between the matting and the painting. One thing he does not like about this is that the paper isn't secured by the mat and waffling occurs. The way he framed mine is called a reverse cut and it accounts for the small gap I saw. If the mat's bevel faces inward, it catches stray pastel and funnels it behind the mat. It also serves the purpose to be in contact with the painting and prevent it from waffling. He might have done mine that way because mine are quite burnished (I press the pastel into the sanded paper, so it isn't mobile) and behave.
I am finding that through another society it is a kiss of death to be considered amateur. This happening with this society was a surprise and I was very upset. I always figured my work would speak for itself, but I don't want to be chopped off at the knees over something stupid. That night, she quashed the mood and I only got one comment on each piece. I didn't feel that they were allowed to speak for themselves.
I really hate when artists are left brained and, it seems that in a right brained undertaking, there are an awful lot of left brained people. I'm right brained, but when taxed I swing into left brain overload.
Okay, if you're still with me, we have some really good news. J is finally getting his braces off in a month. Believe it or not, it's been 18 months since they were put on. I think they'll be off a week before his father gets home. I'm trying to change J's teeth cleaning appt to be in the days between the braces come off and when his dad gets home, just in case insurance changes really quickly.
Strange to think of ex potentially being unemployed soon. Hoo boy, does that impact me. I could well be bankrupt in two months.
So how was this peek into my stressors? I can't blame myself for reacting.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Pity rant
It has been a tough week, a tough two months.
This week I learned the school district is making some changes, just the wrong ones. I learned that my son has to go to the school seven miles away for six years, that he won't be coming back to the school one mile away at all, like I'd been led to believe with school announcements two years ago.
I need to calculate how long it takes to ride over 14 miles a day for six years, versus two. Simple put, it is seven times longer.
Buses are the bastions of the infidels.
This stuff has skewered me to the soul and it will take a long to get over how angry I am at the school board once again. We go through this about every other year. I feel powerless.
Some stuff has happened over the last two months that has shaken me artistically.
I go to two doctors tomorrow - my thyroid/gyn and my psychiatrist. It's not a moment too soon. My thyroid medicine is not doing the trick; look at my broken out body and see that. My new, timed-release ADD med did alright for a few days, but I'm afraid it's what is crashing me. I only started it last week, beginning with one. After a few days, I went up to two, the recommended dosage. I began feeling really good, being jovial and chatty, too chatty perhaps, but happy. The previous med I'd taken made me edgy and anxious and saying all the wrong things, so I was liking the new. On this new one, I felt good, hypomanic even, the lovely productive time that comes before crazy mania, which I do not get. I asked my therapist Wednesday if she thought it was hypomania, but she said to relax and enjoy it. Strange, b/c for all the focus it was supposed to provide, I was completely unproductive. And my mind was prone to racing.
Of course there will be no answers tomorrow. I have no faith. And the stimulation of the thyroid meds already made my hands shake. Adding an amphetamine doesn't help.
I am sick of being sick somehow and having so many confounding factors.
I'm tired of hating on myself and feeling justified when I do it. I don't want to get into how bad it is.
There's so much more, but I'll stop here.
Suffice it to say that I am prickly and depressed.
I guess the good (but scary) news is J and I going to visit Lyd for Thgvg in CA. If you'll recall, she and I are great friends by phone and email, the but second time I saw her, she came here w/out money, acted the fool, etc. A good while after that, we renewed our friendship and I care for her like I did; I fear seeing her and being turned off.
This is one of those positive life circumstances that is too stressful.
I am maxed out.
This week I learned the school district is making some changes, just the wrong ones. I learned that my son has to go to the school seven miles away for six years, that he won't be coming back to the school one mile away at all, like I'd been led to believe with school announcements two years ago.
I need to calculate how long it takes to ride over 14 miles a day for six years, versus two. Simple put, it is seven times longer.
Buses are the bastions of the infidels.
This stuff has skewered me to the soul and it will take a long to get over how angry I am at the school board once again. We go through this about every other year. I feel powerless.
Some stuff has happened over the last two months that has shaken me artistically.
I go to two doctors tomorrow - my thyroid/gyn and my psychiatrist. It's not a moment too soon. My thyroid medicine is not doing the trick; look at my broken out body and see that. My new, timed-release ADD med did alright for a few days, but I'm afraid it's what is crashing me. I only started it last week, beginning with one. After a few days, I went up to two, the recommended dosage. I began feeling really good, being jovial and chatty, too chatty perhaps, but happy. The previous med I'd taken made me edgy and anxious and saying all the wrong things, so I was liking the new. On this new one, I felt good, hypomanic even, the lovely productive time that comes before crazy mania, which I do not get. I asked my therapist Wednesday if she thought it was hypomania, but she said to relax and enjoy it. Strange, b/c for all the focus it was supposed to provide, I was completely unproductive. And my mind was prone to racing.
Of course there will be no answers tomorrow. I have no faith. And the stimulation of the thyroid meds already made my hands shake. Adding an amphetamine doesn't help.
I am sick of being sick somehow and having so many confounding factors.
I'm tired of hating on myself and feeling justified when I do it. I don't want to get into how bad it is.
There's so much more, but I'll stop here.
Suffice it to say that I am prickly and depressed.
I guess the good (but scary) news is J and I going to visit Lyd for Thgvg in CA. If you'll recall, she and I are great friends by phone and email, the but second time I saw her, she came here w/out money, acted the fool, etc. A good while after that, we renewed our friendship and I care for her like I did; I fear seeing her and being turned off.
This is one of those positive life circumstances that is too stressful.
I am maxed out.
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Show and Tell: Scouting for Eww?
Last weekend, the bags were distributed. This weekend, bags of food were picked up.Just like last year, I had J for the pick up weekend. A year ago, we got a small area, two or three courts of townhouses, and we only got about six or eight bags. People lamented the economy.
This year, because of fewer people available to do pick up, we got a much larger area, several times that of last year. And despite the economy, we got over 50 bags. These two were happy, busy boys, except...
Starting out, we'd been confused by newspapers that looked like Scout bags on the elevated stoops. So many leaves made it confusing, too. At one point early on, I spotted a bag with the ears/handles straight up and J hopped up on the porch to get it.
He rushed over. He paused. He picked it up and poked. He came back down the stairs, then seized in terror, ran back to the door to deposit the bag from whence it came.
Simultaneous to that, I realized what the bag was: a stinky diaper so bad that they'd put it outside.
J, aka Mr. Clean Hands, was mortified to have any residuals on his hands, but I had no wipes. So my hair, my clothes, and my hands received all the diaper cooties.
I am still laughing.
Thanks to Mel for helping me out with an occasion to share this shite-filled story.
Saturday, November 08, 2008
Saturday Scavenger Hunt: Water
Tara chose water as our word for the week.
I'll concentrate on a few water pictures from yesterday, which was beautiful. In fact, the forecast called for a great day, so I canceled a first date lunch date (the guy is a lawyer and I'd hope he'd impress me more in person that he has on the phone or by email - he's very dry and much like the last patent attorney I dated last Spring) so I could paint. Well, I actually canceled with plenty of notice, before noon on Wednesday, and then that evening several painter friends had the same idea for Friday and invited me along.
I stopped at this location, planning to paint water. Instead, I painted up the hill to the bell tower of a church and included no water. The scene looks prettier than this picture, because the camera focused on the drapy limb thing.
^The water reflects an incredible blue, which is outside the picture frame of the sky.
^I love how powerful the clouds appear in the water's reflection.
I need to figure out what body of water this is.
I'll concentrate on a few water pictures from yesterday, which was beautiful. In fact, the forecast called for a great day, so I canceled a first date lunch date (the guy is a lawyer and I'd hope he'd impress me more in person that he has on the phone or by email - he's very dry and much like the last patent attorney I dated last Spring) so I could paint. Well, I actually canceled with plenty of notice, before noon on Wednesday, and then that evening several painter friends had the same idea for Friday and invited me along.
I stopped at this location, planning to paint water. Instead, I painted up the hill to the bell tower of a church and included no water. The scene looks prettier than this picture, because the camera focused on the drapy limb thing.
^The water reflects an incredible blue, which is outside the picture frame of the sky.
^I love how powerful the clouds appear in the water's reflection.
I need to figure out what body of water this is.
Monday, November 03, 2008
Today so far, but to include the weekend
Anybody notice I'm not doing NaMoBloMe this year? It is making me so happy. I receive the emails and sigh in non-participatory contentment.
I had J's Parent-Teacher Conference this morning at 8:20. He stayed home in bed. His teacher was very impressed with him and how he has busted butt since mid-term. I wish they had some continuity in their grading forms, but at interim he had 3 Cs (his first Cs ever!) and 4 Bs. For his finals, he had 5As, a vast improvement. When I got home and showed him, he whispered, "I feel so proud." I told him to pocket that feeling for motivation later.
I got home and told him I'd take him to Dunkin Donuts for a treat, but he's downstairs watching TV instead. Booger. I needed more sugar after the past few days of gorging.
The weekend painting workshop was fun. The instructor had a great sense of humor and really emphasized drawing the first day. Okay, I might had had a crush on him. Shucks about that being married thing.
He liked my pictures and the way I had them printed light, medium, dark, and B/W, using them over and over as examples. I chose to do the first picture. It was the main example he referenced, so I got used to seeing it. I'd also printed up the red turtleneck one and an additional shot from pre-school I'd forgotten to post. The other pictures did not blow up well enough to try to use.
When I picked up J afterward, he saw the picture in the dim car. His first reaction was that it looked like him. That's the positive part. It does, however, look like a first attempt as oil painting. His face looks chalky and I have to blame that in part on the cheap Daler Rowney paints and Utrecht white they provided. When we got inside in the light, J started picking the details apart like a good little critic, but I kept falling back on the fact that it was my first attempt. I think I might try it again with my Grumbacher paints, which dry a little more slowly and have more of a sheen to them.
So, it was good and I learned a lot. I wish we'd gotten more individual instruction instead of just group art lectures. He hung out, kinda wasting time, mostly spending time keeping busy actually doing the paintings of two women. One had a lovely painting already and he put in the eyes and a few other details. The second woman, who is an officer of this art group, so I expected her skill level to be high, essentially had him do her painting for him. She'd say that the eyebrow was off, and he'd correct it. Then she'd say the hair was wrong and he'd fix it. I hope she doesn't claim the piece as her own, because he put several hours into it.
I'm just jealous. I wish he'd have put time into mine. Not really, but the personalized instruction would have been helpful.
Classes always seem to to work this way. Individualized instruction is advertised, but it all collapses into one or two people.
Which brings me to my pastel class this afternoon. I have four sessions left. The instructor is literally a clown. She is individualized, yes, giving the attention back to herself. She loves to hear herself talk. As a result, in a 2.25h class, we get about 45 minutes or less to actually paint the figure and we're always hurrying at the end or the model volunteers to stay over. Last week, she talked so much that she didn't even do a demonstration, so we had to do the head on our own.
You ever been in a class in which you wanted to kill anyone for asking a question and getting the instructor started up again? Yeah, it's that kind of class.
I noticed last week that the woman on the opposite end of the room was doing her own thing as the instructor blabbed/gestured/acted/self-aggrandized on. I took this to mean frustration. I brought it up with a lady in my painting workshop over the weekend, as the three of us take the pastel class together. Apparently others are as frustrated as I am.
Another thing that frustrates me is that the class is supposed to be nine weeks long. The instructor was going to be out of the country for one week and didn't want to fool with adding a class on the end, although I didn't see the issue. Instead, she decided it would be best to add 15 minutes to each of the other eight classes. She tried to tack it on the end of the class, but I requested that not be the case with J on his own for a little bit. I mostly wanted her to take back the 15 minute plan, but instead she tacked it on to the beginning of the class. I felt railroaded and I learned this weekend that I wasn't the only one. Taking away a class reduces the number of models and poses, which is just wrong.
Sorry, I guess this became a rant spilling over. I have yet to find the perfect art teacher, but I anticipate that I will continue trying.
I'm glad I have this blog so I don't complain on the other one. However, I will not be posting pictures of the portrait anywhere anytime soon.
I had J's Parent-Teacher Conference this morning at 8:20. He stayed home in bed. His teacher was very impressed with him and how he has busted butt since mid-term. I wish they had some continuity in their grading forms, but at interim he had 3 Cs (his first Cs ever!) and 4 Bs. For his finals, he had 5As, a vast improvement. When I got home and showed him, he whispered, "I feel so proud." I told him to pocket that feeling for motivation later.
I got home and told him I'd take him to Dunkin Donuts for a treat, but he's downstairs watching TV instead. Booger. I needed more sugar after the past few days of gorging.
The weekend painting workshop was fun. The instructor had a great sense of humor and really emphasized drawing the first day. Okay, I might had had a crush on him. Shucks about that being married thing.
He liked my pictures and the way I had them printed light, medium, dark, and B/W, using them over and over as examples. I chose to do the first picture. It was the main example he referenced, so I got used to seeing it. I'd also printed up the red turtleneck one and an additional shot from pre-school I'd forgotten to post. The other pictures did not blow up well enough to try to use.
When I picked up J afterward, he saw the picture in the dim car. His first reaction was that it looked like him. That's the positive part. It does, however, look like a first attempt as oil painting. His face looks chalky and I have to blame that in part on the cheap Daler Rowney paints and Utrecht white they provided. When we got inside in the light, J started picking the details apart like a good little critic, but I kept falling back on the fact that it was my first attempt. I think I might try it again with my Grumbacher paints, which dry a little more slowly and have more of a sheen to them.
So, it was good and I learned a lot. I wish we'd gotten more individual instruction instead of just group art lectures. He hung out, kinda wasting time, mostly spending time keeping busy actually doing the paintings of two women. One had a lovely painting already and he put in the eyes and a few other details. The second woman, who is an officer of this art group, so I expected her skill level to be high, essentially had him do her painting for him. She'd say that the eyebrow was off, and he'd correct it. Then she'd say the hair was wrong and he'd fix it. I hope she doesn't claim the piece as her own, because he put several hours into it.
I'm just jealous. I wish he'd have put time into mine. Not really, but the personalized instruction would have been helpful.
Classes always seem to to work this way. Individualized instruction is advertised, but it all collapses into one or two people.
Which brings me to my pastel class this afternoon. I have four sessions left. The instructor is literally a clown. She is individualized, yes, giving the attention back to herself. She loves to hear herself talk. As a result, in a 2.25h class, we get about 45 minutes or less to actually paint the figure and we're always hurrying at the end or the model volunteers to stay over. Last week, she talked so much that she didn't even do a demonstration, so we had to do the head on our own.
You ever been in a class in which you wanted to kill anyone for asking a question and getting the instructor started up again? Yeah, it's that kind of class.
I noticed last week that the woman on the opposite end of the room was doing her own thing as the instructor blabbed/gestured/acted/self-aggrandized on. I took this to mean frustration. I brought it up with a lady in my painting workshop over the weekend, as the three of us take the pastel class together. Apparently others are as frustrated as I am.
Another thing that frustrates me is that the class is supposed to be nine weeks long. The instructor was going to be out of the country for one week and didn't want to fool with adding a class on the end, although I didn't see the issue. Instead, she decided it would be best to add 15 minutes to each of the other eight classes. She tried to tack it on the end of the class, but I requested that not be the case with J on his own for a little bit. I mostly wanted her to take back the 15 minute plan, but instead she tacked it on to the beginning of the class. I felt railroaded and I learned this weekend that I wasn't the only one. Taking away a class reduces the number of models and poses, which is just wrong.
Sorry, I guess this became a rant spilling over. I have yet to find the perfect art teacher, but I anticipate that I will continue trying.
I'm glad I have this blog so I don't complain on the other one. However, I will not be posting pictures of the portrait anywhere anytime soon.
Saturday, November 01, 2008
Saturday Scavenger Hunt: Street
Word on the street, Churlita chose this week's topic.
Sometimes the street compliments a good sunset shot.
This busy street in Cozumel was full to taxis and horse carriages. This also shows a quiet cross street.
This roadside mercado in Costa Rica served the tastiest berry juice. It always fascinates me when buildings are constructed close to the street.
Streets on Roatan, Honduras are actually quite dusty.
This guy walking down the street on Roatan just cracked me up. I guess cotton candy needs transporting somehow.
As we were leaving Roatan, Honduras, we went this scenic route. Technically, it's a street, I guess.
They lost that day, but it didn't matter to the boy. He took his fan spirit to the street.
Sometimes the street compliments a good sunset shot.
This busy street in Cozumel was full to taxis and horse carriages. This also shows a quiet cross street.
This roadside mercado in Costa Rica served the tastiest berry juice. It always fascinates me when buildings are constructed close to the street.
Streets on Roatan, Honduras are actually quite dusty.
This guy walking down the street on Roatan just cracked me up. I guess cotton candy needs transporting somehow.
As we were leaving Roatan, Honduras, we went this scenic route. Technically, it's a street, I guess.
They lost that day, but it didn't matter to the boy. He took his fan spirit to the street.
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