Ha ha ha! Wasn’t that John McCain something Friday night in the debates? Wow! And with so little time to prepare, with him being so busy saving the country from that crushing financial disaster that wasn’t there 8 years ago when George Bush took office. You remember, when we had over a trillion dollars in reserve. I especially enjoyed all those vaguely unrelated anecdotal stories he’d tell, you know, when Lehrer would ask him a question, and he’d try to avoid an actual answer. Or he’d toss out that carefully orchestrated phrase at Obama repeatedly…what was it? Oh yes….”He still doesn’t understand.” He’s probably just used to saying that from talking to VP running mate/pitbull Sarah Pallin.
Anyways, its yet another big night at wittykitty manor. My best friend is now on the road touring in a Broadway musical and sent me a big box of hotel booty. That is to say, a bunch of tiny free bottles of shampoo, conditioners, miniature soaps and two towels. And since I’m already about two steps past OCD and have a very small apartment, I have set up an assembly line of emptying all the tiny bottles into my larger existing bottles and I’m kinda feeling a bit like Willy Wonka overlooking the Oompa Loompas. I mean if you could see how small my apartment is, although please don’t, because I would like totally freak out if you suddenly came to my door and said, “Hi, I finally found you, wittykitty, because I’m extremely clever with the internet”, I might smile wanly, but underneath I would be like totally freaking out, since no one ever comes to my apartment, because I’m like a total hermit and someday they’ll probably find me with boxes piled to the ceiling filled with nude drawings, boxes of staples and photos of Joel Grey.
I have been getting out some since my crapola art opening last week. I went to my favorite yearly Hippie de Festivale last weekend and had a lot of fun. Our art group had a booth and I was pressed into action from a dead sleep. The woman with our tent got sick, so one minute I was thoughtfully snoring sleeping on a Sunday morning, undoubtedly dreaming of either winning the lottery so I can buy a new car and art supplies, since they’re getting incredibly low or standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean, holding hands with a guy with dark curly hair.
But then suddenly the phone rang and suddenly I was in charge of bringing our tent down to the artsy/hippyfest in like 15 minutes. Little “L” brought the tent over and gave me a jar of peaches for my stupendous effort. I don’t like peaches, but I took them anyways. I then had to race down to town, barely dressed with little make up. I was going to model that day and wanted to look nice, but ended up looking pretty pale and tired looking.
I did have some really cute Let’s Save-the-Whales/I have a Volvo/I’m voting for Obama kind of guy startle me at my car by offering to carry the tent up to the corner for me. I kept trying to check for a ring, but he was walking too fast and disappeared before I was able to catch up. Drat!
Mid-week Big Blondie of art gallery fame sent me yet another e-mail requesting my artist statement for the fifth time for a newsletter. You know what? I didn’t send it. You know why? I think she probably has four other copies somewhere in her computer, plus its hanging at the show…as in 3 feet from the office where the newsletter is being produced. Plus their website still has the graphic from the last art show which has now been gone for over three weeks. Am I perturbed? Yeah, just slightly. No more cooperation from me. I just leave it there til October 18th and then it comes home to my tiny apartment. The End.
I did have some people from my art class look at it this last Wednesday night. Professional Art Guy walked through. There were no compliments which was okay, but he did tell me that my prices were too low and that if people see that, they won’t think my work is of any value. I’ve heard that before and yes, point taken. Bad self, esteem! bad! But yes, I get it. I also had another woman, who does nice work, say that my work reminded her of Edvard Munch, the painter of the famous painting “The Scream”. She said everything was very creative and whimsical, which felt really good and helped smooth over some of the crappy stuff that has happened since the show opened.
Anyways, after class, my friend who owns a framing shop walked me out to my car. Ever since that creepy guy was waiting to ask me out to “Riverdance” in a pitch dark parking lot last year, I always have someone walk me out. Plus my brother is getting rid of a bunch of framing stuff, so I had some of it to show her.
Fortunately no freaks ‘o nature were waiting to pounce, so we chatted for a few minutes. Anyways, the whole point of this paragraph is that she told me that her friend, who owns the best art gallery in town, is hiring two part time positions. He asked her if she knew anyone and I’m not sure if I heard her correctly but I think she mentioned me. So she said I should go talk to him. That was the same gallery where I sold my very first painting 3 years ago at a group show. Its a really nice place, as in the nicest art gallery in town.
So the next morning I updated my resume and also jazzed it up a bit since the woman at the government agency last month told me it looked “boring”. Man, if a government worker thinks something looks boring, it must really be hideous! Unfortunately in my haste I also included a rather glaring typo on the bottom which I didn’t notice until I was driving home afterwards on an extra copy I had made. OY! I’m such an idiot!
Anyways, I went to the art gallery and talked to the owner who I’ve met on several occasions. I tried to be carefree and thoughtful, but that it like the total opposite of my real personality. Well, I am thoughtful, but never carefree. NEVER. I also met with his assistant, who might be the one I’m replacing. She’s like super bubbly (I’m not), has a great memory (she always remembered my name and the name of my artwork FOR LIKE 2 YEARS after that first art show. I can’t even remember something I Googled like 23 seconds ago). And I outweigh her by like 100 pounds. So he made an appointment for a job interview the next Tuesday, as in tomorrow.
Needless to say, I am a wreck about the interview. I haven’t had a job interview in over a year. My last one was that one for the framing job at the art store. You don’t know how to measure stuff? Bye now! For some people who really want something…they’re spurred on by that passion. For me, I feel like the odds are insurmountable. Again with the pessimism. I know. Can’t help it.
Last week when I had the opening to my art show, which I instinctively knew was going to tank, I called my mom right before I left and told her I needed a little pep talk. Here’s how it went:
witty: “Mom, I really need a pep talk. I’m really nervous about my art show opening.”
mom: “Well, I probably shouldn’t bring this up now.”
mom: “Well, there is one of your paintings I don’t really like.”
witty: (getting a twinge of anger at myself for calling her for the nearly impossible task of saying something positive to her daughter in a time of need). Which one? Is it this one? (explaining)”
witty: “This one? (explaining)
mom: “No. And I really don’t understand that one either.”
Finally after going through about 4-5 of my paintings I finally said, “The Mona Lisa one?”
mom: “Yes. I just don’t like that one. Its weird. I don’t like the eyes on it.”
witty: “That is one of the best paintings I’ve done yet. I’ve gotten nothing but compliments on it. I even have a buyer for it (hi Anna!).”
mom: “I KNEW you’d get defensive!! You always get defensive if I say anything about your work.”
So this was my pre-art show pep talk from my mom. YAY! And then, of course, this also led into a conversation about her extensive “art” career”. She’s painted 5 paintings in her whole life and talks about them at length anytime I mention my work….you know the 25-30 paintings I’ve done. The probably 1000+ drawings I have stored in bins. Plus the various other things I’ve done creatively like photography (I’ve had my photos in a museum, newspapers and a national magazine), over 275 published articles, etc.
But what it all boils down to is…who’s more important.
So I have this really important job interview tomorrow. Sure, its only a very P/T job. But oh the benefits. Yes, it would be good to make money, but the real benefit for me would be to be in a creative environment. Force myself to be more sociable. Maybe meet some really hot artist guys. And most importantly, just have a reason for being. You know, instead of just sitting around doing nothing. I mean I have been pushing myself a bit to do these recent art shows, but then inbetween, I pretty much just lay around on the couch, doing the “My Life Sucks” thing.
And this has to stop.
Oh, and about the shoes. I really needed some “job interview” shoes so I went to the thrift store down the street from me. I’m not a very girly girl. I wouldn’t know something fashionable if it bonked me in the head, but I found a nice pair of black shoes for $8. They’re flats and look like silk. Anyways, when I got home, I was all silly-acting with Guardcat. “Look at mommy’s shoeeees! Look at mommy’s shoeeees!” And they had a designer’s name inside. I do live in a major yuppie enclave, after all. So I Googled my $8. shoes. On the designer’s website they were selling for $235! Ha! And they were brand new. Maybe having fabulous tootsie will make me feel confident tomorrow. Fingers crossed!