When finding a head in the recycling bin is the highlight of your month

What’s really embarrassing about this whole mannikin head in the recycling bin thing is the fact that after walking by it during daylight hours, I felt the need…the absolute crushing desire to drive back after dark because I really  wanted to steal the head and bring it back to a tiny apartment  where approximately 300,000 drawings and pieces of art are stored. I mean, what made me think, oh goodie, a head. I need that! I really need that…I mean I wanted it  so much so that I was willing to get in my car, drive stealthily over two blocks to the recycling bin of a second rate beauty salon after dark, only to find that some other freakishly weird person had already beat me to the stealing of a mannikin head.

Damn! Life just ain’t fair. Truly. What? You don’t believe me? Oh I’ve got stories. Stories of other freakish events. Freakish events involving hanging babies upside down with masking tape. See! I told you!  Do I have your attention now, you non-believing heathens?  It all has to do with that art teacher. She’s making me be weird. Okay, perhaps I was already 90% there. But in an attempt to please her, I have been digging deep. Digging deep into my apparent well of weirdness. You know like where Elvis and Tim Burton hang out.

Anyways, in an attempt to be liked by my art teacher, who as you might remember held me up as an example of what not to do, I have tried to do the honorable thing,  like ignore my fellow student Latasha, who talks endlessly and makes me want to grab an exacto knife and carve my census information into her forehead.

Her: “Are you Wiccan?”

Me: “No”

Her: “Well you’re showing.”

And I’m like going WTF. I’m showing? What? Where?

“You’re showing your pentacle. Its supposed to be covered.”

Oh dear, flashing your jewels again….honestly witty!

Of course I was somewhat aware of my jewelry related transgression, since I had already had a similar conversation with the Wiccan cashier at the yuppie grocery store. She asked me which coven I belonged to. And I’m like coven? Well its probably the one that allows Democrats. I mean what else could I say?

Anyways, it seems that Latasha not only knows about pentacles, but virtually every subject in the universe. Why? Because she literally never stops talking. I know that she lost her virginity at 13 with her current boyfriend. She has a baby. She has won every art contest that she has ever entered. She works in a bar. She’s met the Pope. I mean everything!

And what did she tell me at the Coke Machine down by the gallery? Oh yes, that she was  bringing a bottle of wine to our art teacher, because the teacher had mentioned being open for bribes in an early class and Latasha hadn’t finished her homework. And so she did. And it worked! The teacher took the bottle of wine.

WTF! And I’m trying to please her, how???? Good work??!!! Why didn’t I think of wine? A little Chianti with her fava beans. Sheesh!

So I have dug even deeper. Down past the evil nuns of Catholic School beating me with rulers. Down past being forced to listen to the Mitch Miller Singers as a kid. This is war!

Example #1:

Yep! We like to strap babies to walls in our art class.  Of course, quite a few kids were rather terrorized by this assignment. A babydoll entangled in ropes and masking tape and perhaps even sporting a little junior baby whip.  Oh my. This is scary. We are in community college after all. Not many expectations. You know how I know? Because the teacher brought in drawings from her “other” class, you know, the ones she teaches at the  nationally known college across town. You know, the one whose students are required to present a portfolio just to get into the class. Not like community college of course. Oh no. No expectations here. Learning bycomparison. That’s how its done it seems.

But guess what? The teacher totally liked my serial killer scarebaby drawing. Squee!  How did I find a style that suited her? I Googled her. The internet is awesome. And I got to see all her kinda creepy drawings of…well I don’t want YOU Googling her fercrissakes. Please don’t, since Googling works both ways…if you get my drift.

My next drawing was even more pleasing to her. Who knew that teddy bears stabbed with a butcher knife could elevate your level of coolness with such swiftness and decisiveness.

Example #2:

Oh witty, we always knew you had a dark side. I already have this one framed for my Goth/Big boob/serial killer art show in April!

But as I sit here this evening, perhaps a little tweaked out on pain pills, maybe its less about her and more about me than I realize. The dark stuff. I guess when you get diagnosed for the third time in 14 months with cancer, you start to feel a little picked on.  Unlike my other cancers, this one has been particularly painful. Its in my chin and neck. Will I be able to finish school? I’m not sure. I’m not a quitter that’s for damn sure.  I definitely want to continue to be able to do art, you know, since I’m finally learning how…

On my own terms. And with no bribes.

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12 Responses to “When finding a head in the recycling bin is the highlight of your month”

  1. Poolie Says:

    You are priceless, dear Witty! You truly understand the absurdity of this big old world.

  2. Kathy Says:

    Those people! Who never quit talking! WHERE DO THEY GET THE ENERGY? My god! I was trapped in a car yesterday with one of them and was feeling pretty stabby by the end of the ride, and she wasn’t even talking to me, she was sitting in the back seat conversing with someone else…

  3. BLuey Says:

    Oops – I lost my comment. I love your drawing style, witty. And the last line said it all. Ignore that stupid teacher and continue being your wonderful, powerful self. I am sorry that you have such a heavy burden to carry at the moment. It sucks. You don’t deserve it. I hope that very soon everything starts to blossom and that you get all of the wonderful good fortune that is so rightfully yours.

  4. goatbarnwitch Says:

    Wonderful drawings that may be born of a need to please teacher but the exercise may be worth the time. Your wit will outsmart the judge any day. That other thing coming round for the 3rd time just sucks… really really sucks…

  5. Mrs Hiss-Sparrow Says:

    WHY didn’t you grab that head straight away, witticakes? What were you thinking? Trust me; it’s EXACTLY what you need in your life. My little kozmic rancho has mannequin heads in every room — wearing leather fetish masks, animal ears and slave collars (well, four of them in the living room are wearing colourful feather boas) — and believe me, if I’d seen that one (with HAIR!) in a bin I would have been so very excited I’m quite sure a small amount of wee would have come out. Oh, wittywittywitty. Love, R xxx

  6. Glynis Says:

    I have run into a similar problem with writing. You’re only a Serious Writer if you write the “coming of age” story (AKA “…and then my father shook my hand and said he was proud of me” story) or a story involving death, pain, substance abuse, incest, or loss.

    Bleargh.

    Having teachers who believed in the dominant paradigm of storytelling were the bane of my existence. I learned how to play the game, but never lost sight of my voice. I’d blort back the regurgitated tales that they were comfortable with for the grades. Cynical? Maybe. It worked.

    Not to say that I didn’t learn from those teachers, I just felt comfortable taking what worked for me and throwing out what didn’t.

    You know your vision, your voice. Trust it. Because it’s awesome.

  7. Mrs Hiss-Sparrow Says:

    P.S. I also think the mannequin kind of looks like Sharon Osbourne. It isn’t Sharon Osbourne, is it? Is it possible Ozzy accidentally bit off her head because he thought she was a dummy, do you think? And then had to have rabies shots? x

  8. LA Says:

    I certainly think you’re entitled to some dark, but Ms Thang the art teacher has certainly bought into the Hot Topic As A Lifestyle, hasn’t she?

    Keep fighting the good fight against the wild cells, sweetie. You’re doing great.

    Much love from, ~LA who has a glass head in her office and 3 mannikins in her attic.

  9. awittykitty Says:

    I know Hiss….I should have grabbed Sharon Osbourne’s head, but there were two women standing across the way and they already thought I was weird for photographing a head in a recycling bin. Damn me for folding under the pressure of trying to appear normal.

  10. Alyssa Says:

    Love the ballerina drawing!

  11. jess Says:

    don’t feel bad about missing out on the head, it could quite possibly be possessed with the spirit of Sharon Osbourne, a la Chucky the killer doll. imagine having Sharon on your mantelpiece, rasping at you day and night. you can’t be too careful about these things.

    oh, and i just wanted to say I enjoy your blog.

  12. stepfordtart Says:

    Sorry about the boobs – they have a mind of their own! Seeing your dummy head thingy reminds me of doing costumes for a production of The Man in The Iron Mask – I had to make replica heads of every member of the cast who got guillotined during the course of the play. Millions of the bloody things. My house was filled with severed heads, in varying stages of decay, for AGES! s x

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