i started a new job today.  Chocolate!  My new job is chocolate.  It's december and I work at a chocolate shop.  And I work with about a dozen awesome girls.  All is well.

I told some of my new coworkers that I used to be very religious but am not religious at all now.  One of them asked, "So how come you're not religious anymore?"  And she stumped me.  No one has asked me that yet.  I told her I'd have to think about that and get back to her.

So now I'm sitting and I'm thinking.  With my religiously forbidden glass of whiskey. 

I'm not religious anymore because:
I no longer believe in religion. 
I no longer believe in belief systems. 
I no longer believe in anything but what feels true in my own heart at each moment, and the universe updates me accordingly.
I'm not religious anymore because I woke up from my mother's illusions and found God to be nowhere and everywhere and it's all the same.

On July 1st 2011I lost my 2nd Santa Fe job.  And I took some time to think.  To sit in the 3rd room I'd rented in the past 2 months, and think.  I finally had space to think. 

i think i thought
a pocket full of rot
just a minute let me jot
a little lot about my thought

oh me oh my
there's a needle in my eye
crossed my heart and hoped to die
but i really meant it at the time

oooooooooooooooooooooooo
stop.

stop this.
waste.

waste.
waste,
waste,
waste:
waste of, wasted, wasting, waste.
waste of time. waste a dime
he, she, it is wasting by
by..
bye.
siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh

oh me oh my
there's much to do before i die
i don't know why i watch the sky
even if i could i wouldn't fly

sooooooooooooooooooooooooo
late
please wait
i know i am a little late
caught my stocking
while i was docking
can't you make a little space?

no

over and over
i ask you to move over
clean the dishes for my wishes
be such a shame to watch them drain
go home
go roam
what's a matter need a phone
hold the line, where's your dime
i know you meant it at the time

FAILLITE

(in school today i learned: the french word for bankruptcy is faillite.)

Such a lite way to fail/ only half way to fall
to the edge of the earth and i ask "is this all?"
never ever woulda thought, a line could be a single dot
inside my eyes i hunt for hearts, tear drops, tundra, and notions of art

such a dry piano, could icicles be
a musical instrument or a medium of art?
how many colors of white might there be.  what color would i be without the light that gods shine on me.
how many women sing prayers in my hair while drunk marching minutemen throw forks in the air?   in the dark they make marks, scars, stains and parks in these parts i’ve never seen, and territories i’ve never been. 
valves and screws, plumlines and holes
pretty simple corks fail monumental roles
i wish i could piss
i wish i could fart
i wish i could tear
my whole self apart
i wish i was a sun
i wish i was a star
i wish i was something
very very far
across the sky
around the bush
3rd house on the right
is a button i can’t push

Cry. Stop. Her.

Cry.   Stop.   Her.

Just one more time with feeling

I coulda been you

I thought  that you knew

I coulda been all of

The lace in your shoes

.. ..

Wiggle and hop

Hobble and stop

Horrible acts and  mistakes in the plot

Trip on a rock, I hope it don’t stop

Don’t say i'd do better

if I wrote you a letter

.. ..

Mending and bending the whole in our time

Coping, disrobing and groping a crime

Morbidly washing all sins in a bath

With crooked bones, i took it home

to meditate upon, and on

.. ..

supply and demand

all worms in their cans

I wish you were here

just to hold my hand 

I know its not right

to fight for such flights

of fancy and things that went bump in the night

.. ..

but I will hold on tight.  

Lest i say goodnight 

to a thousand big dreams 

bidding for the wrong team

mischief is mine.  

I shoulda made a sign.

.. ..

Alert and take caution.

may contain poison . and

some animals bite before saying goodnight

Tuck them in very tight . it may be a long night.

.. ..

Watching for bandits I covet the land

Of potatos tomatoes and men with their hands

Mourning the morning and selling the rest

Fish bakes and outtakes. I’m ready to rest

Be true and be tried.  go in with the tide.

Doesn’t matter what I friend on my way from that place 

courageous with waste, but i couldn't keep pace

Baby baby I’ll say it to your pocket 

I always did wish I could plug you in my socket

Surreptitious and suspicious, he said, 

she said, we’re out of line

This world goes by and quickly. and we all have forever

Forever and ever to change with the weather

I’ll pray for you always.  You , boy from my dream

I’ll grow up.  You’ll shut up.  And we’ll both leave this scene

What Muffins Say When Muffins Sigh

What Muffins Say When Muffins Sigh

a million miles from never baby ain't too far away
just close those eyes
and click those heels
and you'll know what to say

crimson berries melt on top
to drop would be an awful thought
what muffins say when muffins sigh
no one knows except that guy

who's building cupcakes with his hand
i thought myself his greatest fan
but vermons come and bakers go
what came of him nobody knows

From Easter To Halloween...

Tomorrow's Horoscope

At this time you may have to strive very hard to get anywhere but if so, your goals when you do reach them will be more permanent and far reaching. If you are unclear about what you are doing in some area, this is a good time to look inside yourself to find out what you really want to do. You should not and probably cannot move until you are clear about your objectives. In examining yourself, you may discover hitherto unknown psychological forces that you can use to gain your ends. A considerable change in self-understanding may be one consequence of this influence. If you are at all clear about your purpose, this influence should assure you of success in any undertaking that you become involved in now. Proceed full steam ahead and do not worry. Just avoid stepping upon other people's toes unnecessarily, because that can have dangerous consequences later on.

A Bee's Hero

I'm at my studio.  For the first time in 2 weeks.  I was in boston for 6 days, new york for 2, and taos for another 2....so that's a good excuse for absenteeism.
But I am not painting.   Not yet.

A few minutes ago I wandered out into the gallery next to my studio and I saw on the window ledge what I at first thought was an art installation.  A dozen dead bees.  Each one in a different dramatic death pose.  Some were in groups and pairs...and some died alone, but all were dead.

All but one.  


But his death was not far off.  The lone survivor of a the famine that took both his parents and all ten on his brothers and sisters, he buzzed and bumped along hopelessly yet desperately.  Desperately he fought the hunger and thirst that had taken his family.  He kept his bumble bee eyes set on the Albuquerque horizon outside the window.  The window so innocently installed so long ago.  I knew what I must do!  I must save this heroic bee!!

I used my human hands and my miraculous opposable thumb to twist open the locking mechanism on the window.  I used the brute strength of my soft, girly forearms to push open the top of the window, creating a gap in the window large enough for 10 bees to fly thru....all holding hands.

But alas there was just one bee.  And his story must be told!

I slammed shut the window apologizing to my helpless yet venomous friend, "Hang on little guy!  I gotta get this on tape!"

I ran to my studio as my legs would carry me (but not too fast because these floors are slippery and I didn't want to fall).  I grabbed my Flip.  "Out Of Batteries!" I moaned before dropping to my knees and staring up at the ceiling while shaking my fists at the fluorescent lights, "WHY!!?!?!?!"

BUT WAIT.  Didn't I just by batteries yesterday?!  Aren't they in that bag in the back seat of my car?
YES!
I ran down the hall, down the stairs, thru the other hall and nearly knocked over two hipsters in my haste to get out the door and run to the street, unlock my car, dive in the back seat and....YES! Batteries!

The video begins here.   But I won't spoil the ending.  But just know that TODAY....if i did nothing else (and it's certainly looking like that my be the case)... I saved the life of a heroic bee.  Which makes me...A Bee's Hero.

MIA

.

In The Direction One Hopes To Go

I love having a studio.  It's the most splendid thing. 

Had the most Terrible pathetic day spend moaning and groveling on my living room floor.  

Tried to pick a fight w/God in the Hot Tub.

It wasn't working.  The hot tub that is.

It wasn't hot, kinda luke warm.  

It was like sitting in an enormous puddle of pee.  

Which is actually the perfect metaphor for my day.

I stayed in the hot tub a long time actually considering how unhot it was and how many bugs and feathers and unidenitified floated objects (UFOs) were floating about.

Each time the little grey feather with the ant and the string stuck to it floated by I internally tipped my hat,  "And a good day to you as well sir."

Fell a bit behind on my blogging.  my apologies to anyone who actually follows this thing: i love you.  

 But i did finish the painting.  this is the same canvas that stared at me blankly as i stared back in terror just last week...or was it the week before... anyhow, it's done now, finished last tuesday.  painted the edges on wednesday and installed hanging hooks and wire on the back for the show on friday.

   I painted the edges with a mess of grays but i painted the bottom edge fluorescent pink.  it reminds me of those fancy heels with the bright red flash of paint on the bottoms.  i've always wanted a pair of shoes like that.  

 Finishing a painting can be really great.  until you wake up the next day and you realize you have nothing to work on.  and you have to start all over again.  on thursday, i didn't go to the studio.  thursday was the worst day i've lived through in a long time. 

 

Friday was the open studios night at the harwood.  which was fun and exhausting and lovely and full of people.  i put my best game face on (which means lots of lip stick, fake lashes, and hairspray) and i tried to talk to as many people as possible.  and smile.  i really enjoy big extroverty people gatherings like that for a small chunk of time.  but i always leave wondering if i said something weird or uncomfortable to anyone, always sure i did but unsure of what it was.  this often causes me to lie in bed and wince repeatedly as I try to fall asleep.

my favorite moment was when one of my pre-schoolers (from the job i recently quit!) showed up with her family.  i talked to them for a long time, i bent down several times to talk to and hug the little girl, giving her cake and juice.  she's one of my favorite pre-schoolers ever, she's an amazing artist and i'm completely obsessed with her drawings.  i was so excited that she was there in my studio seeing all my paintings.

 After about 20 or 30 minutes in my studio her parents said goodbye and they started heading out.  I leaned down and gave the little girl a big hug and told her how happy I was that she had come to see me in my art studio.  She looked at me, squinting hard, and finally said "Are you Ms. Juliet?"

That's right folks.  Seeing teachers outside of school can be confusing for little ones.  All that time she had no idea why this strange woman was hugging her and being so nice to her...LOL!

Afterwards, I was supposed to meet up with some of the harwood's other artists at a nearby pub, a meet up I helped organize. (gulp) But I blew it off to hang out with a woman who's an amazing jewelry artist and one of the overall coolest people I've ever known.  We sat in her backyard and talk next to the fire until about 1 in the morning.  At which point she invited me in to see her taxidermy collection.  

The last 3 days I feel I've fallen off the bandwagon, the horse, the metaphorical thing which moves speedily in the direction one hopes to go.  I've not painted, played, danced, sang, or made anything.  I've crawled around my apartment leaving only to make appearances at a few obligations around town.  I've begun my plotting of my next painting.  I sometimes feel like I'm writing a horse backwards.  I'm going to my studio first thing tomorrow.  I'm hoping I can climb back on.

The Ghost of Painting Past

"When she came to the boxes of her father's painting supplies, the artist's daughter opened each box.  The smell of the paint reminded her of sitting in her daddy's workshop as a little girl, watching her daddy paint bright colorful abstracts.  She remembers how her daddy would make up a story for each one, just for her."

So....things are going BET TER.  ...In The Studio.   I have kept my promise to paint everyday....no matter what.  And my flu is getting better.  The above is a tiny itty bitty detail of the painting that I'm working on.  I dare not show you the full image before the painting's finished.  I can't even stand the idea of my studio mate seeing it.  Each night when I leave I tuck my easel in my closet, painting first.

About a year ago, I bought a box of oil paints at The Harwood yard sale.  Every year, the harwood has this huge yard sale and lots of people donate stuff.  Some of it is art supplies but mostly it's just a hodge podge of this and that.  So I bought a box of oil paints for $20.  It was a hell of a deal.  There were over 30 tubes of oil paints....the big ones, not the tiny ones.  Some of them were trash, they were cracked or all dried up or in some way unusable, but most of them were good.  (Stay with me, I'm getting somewhere with all this.)

Some of them still had price tags on them....with prices so low, they couldn't have been sold in the last 20-30 years.  And although they were the same brands I've used before, they packaging design was totally different.  And the tops were encrusted on.  I had to use a pair of pliers to unscrew the tops.  Occasionally I needed pliers AND man power (by which I mean "Honey can you get this? It's too hard for me!")

So as I was painted tonight, I was using said paints.  (I should mention here that oil paints never "go bad."  As long as they're not dried up, they're good forever.)  And as I was painting I was thinking about these tubes of paint.  I was imagining that an old artist had passed away in the 1970s, leaving all his paints and supplies behind.  He had been a serious painter and had experienced some commercial success but had always felt that he had yet to make his best painting.  His masterpiece lay ahead of him.  He felt this way about his work until the day he died.

His paints sat in a box in his attic for decades, until his wife passed away in 2009, at which point his daughter and son-in-law took it upon themselves to go through everything in the house.  They threw out many things, mailed things to relatives they knew would appreciate it, and donated the majority to charity.

When she came to the boxes of her father's painting supplies, the artist's daughter opened each box.  The smell of the paint reminded her of sitting in her daddy's workshop as a little girl, watching her daddy paint bright colorful abstracts.  She remembers how her daddy would make up a story for each one, just for her.


Slowly she squeezed the squishy metal tubes in her hands, one by one, and thought "I can't throw these away."  So she takes the paints and all his other supplies to a local community art center and donates them.  Hoping they'll find their way to someone who will use them.  But they sit on a shelf in the storage closet behind downstairs bathroom for a few months and then finally come out to join the yard sale one friday in April.

And this is how these paints came to me.

And tonight as I shuffled around my studio, grabbing tubes and squeezing tubes and mixing colors and dripping oil and slapping paint onto canvas,  I imagined that old artist sitting in the corner of my studio right below my light, cheering me on.  "Yes!  Just like that!  That's perfect!  Oh that's the PERFECT color!"  He's delighted that I'm using his paints!  And I'm delighted that he's delighted!  And he's so proud of me!

The Confrontation

I mentioned yesterday that I had a rough night at the studio. I took some pictures to document my....my struggle. Documenting something...to me....makes it less horrible. It's comforting. It takes it out of the realm of reality and puts it into the realm of art. Everything is better when it's in the realm of art.

It was still day when I got there. I wasn't feeling so good. I also mentioned yesterday that I have the flu. But I was determined not to let that stop me.

I haven't worked on a painting that wasn't a commissioned portrait in about 2 years! Until last night.

Trying to start a painting is always a bit trepidatious. But lately I've been having real issues with painting. Every time I looked at my big white canvas I thought I would pass out. Maybe that was just the flu though.

I was so scared to get started. There's a very specific feeling that I've had before: it's when I start a new painting....and an hour or so into it...i just know it's wrong....and i know it can't be saved.

And the fear of that feeling, is ....well ...it's scary. I want this to go WELL. I don't want to cry.

But it may not. That's a possibility I have to face. But right now, there's so much potential.

The minute my brush touches it....everything will be different. I feel like I could throw up. But that's probably just the flu.

I wonder when Brenden's gonna be here with my tacos.

How am I going to do this painting in a week? Have I ever done a painting in a week?

Okay I need some music. What the right song to begin a painting to?

Ok...Lykke Li...Melodies And Desires.....okay here i go BIG STROKE OF BLACK AHHH!!!

Chug Chug Chug Puff Puff Puff I think I can I think I can

so...i don't know how well tonight went.  i'm just so exhausted all the time it's hard to even sit up.  i had planned to do this painting in black and white and i started tonight.  i did start.  and then i took a break because brenden came and brought me tacos.  and as i sat there on the couch staring at my recently begun painting it just looked so chalky.  it made me think of chalk and then i thought of chalk in my mouth....like chalkboard chalk....and that made my teeth hurt.   and i mixed a whole palette full of grey paint....and now i don't even want to do it in black and white.  and the idea of going back into the studio tomorrow makes me want to turn into a puddle of mylanta.  so now i'm just in this impossible head space where i need to take more action desperately to get out of this head space but i can barely gather the strength to stand up.

The Fear Of Painting

I didn't go to Las Vegas.  I have the flu.  You know that one that people get the flu shot to avoid getting...that one.   I began falling ill Thursday night.  I've eaten enough ibuprofen in the last 5 days to kill a mule.  Nevertheless, I am TRYING to get to my studio today.  I have a painting that I need to make and it must be done by this saturday so that it can be dry and ready to hang by thursday in time for the Harwood's opening on Friday.

This afternoon as I lay in bed feeling helplessly stuck in a body that won't cooperate and I thought "Why?"  Why?  Why did you get the flu Juliet?  What was happening Thursday night that made you want to get the flu?  

Do you want to know what I was doing?  I was painting.  I was in my studio, lights off, high wattage clamp lights on, lighting up this little canvas where I was half-heartedly (1/9th heartedly, let's be honest) painting a dog.  It was a commission.  And I was miserable.  But I was strong.  I held my brush and my palette and put paint to canvas and did it again and again until the underpainting was done.  

And then I drove home.

Then then I got home.

And I felt like a creature made of a hard yet brittle substance.  Like some sort of bug that could be squashed under my black payless boots or be eaten by my cat.  And  don't I hate it when she crunches those things in front of me.  And I can hear her crunching.  I really hate that.

And I opened my laptop and opened pictures on my hard drive and plotted out my painting for the show at the Harwood.  

And all the while, from somewhere hidden, this voice said "Why do you bother? This is a waste of time.  What are you going to accomplish with paint?  You're gonna be miserable.  It won't come out the way you want it to.  Oh Lord, Here we go again?  Why can't you just quit painting and stick to it!"

I don't know who's voice that was.  Maybe it was a demon.  AN INCUBUS!!  (watch the movie ink if you haven't seen it yet!)

So, I realized today that I'm terrified to get back into my studio and paint.  This is what I wanted and I'm terrified.  So terrified I contracted the flu.  The best ever excuse not to go paint.

About an hour ago, I had a conversation with Painting.  Don't ask me what I mean by this.  

Ok fine!   I was sensing a being who was the representation of the art of painting.  It was a she?  And I sensed that she wanted me to paint.  So I decided to talk to her directly.  I asked her if she had something to say to me.  And then I wrote down her answer.

She said to give her a chance.  She said I had to go to my studio everyday and put on my gloves and open my tubes of paint.  She said I had to try.  And that I could doubt myself but not to doubt her, just show up everyday and try.

So it's 4:15 pm and I'm lying in bed wrapped in towels, doped up on flu medication, and feeling like I'm at the halfway point between dead and alive.  But I'm going to get dressed and I'm going to get in my car and I'm going to go to my studio and try.  Don't wish me luck.  There's no such thing.

I will be in Vegas until Monday night....on a secret mission.

YAY!!  the new business cards are ORDERED!!  I'm so excited!  oh they're gonna be soooo bangin!

wait till you see....a work of art.  designed them myself.  took me FOREVER.  but it's DONE!

I bought "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron today.  A book I told myself I'd never read.  Because so many people had told me to read it.  I read the first 10 pages today and I LOVE IT!  DAMN IT!  I really tried to roll my eyes and act like a too-sophisticated/hipster/know-it-all but instead I ended up all wide-eyed and giggly, underlining away, and having the subtle sensation of a small child-like angel tickling my face with goose feathers.  

Anita Of America

Tonight I feel cold to the bone.

Last night I dreamt about Anita. Her and I were on a plane flying south. I was taking her home.

Last month her mother finally decided she wanted her and her brothers back. They'd been living with their aunt and uncle and six cousins in a trailer in a rural part of the south valley for nearly 2 years. Friends of the family drove the 3 children to Juarez, where they would meet their mother again for the first time in 2 years and be shuffled onto a bus headed for the southern tip of Mexico.

I gave her Henrietta. Henrietta is the stuffed dog I've had since I was 2,3,4,5, I'm not really sure how long. She's rough and worn. She's been chewed on and drooled on and come through countless laundry cycles. When I was 7, we had matching nightgowns...Henrietta and I. The nightgown had a picture of a cat playing with yarn. I think.

There was a day last fall when I thought her family wanted me to adopt her. Wanted us to adopt her. "You should take her!" They'd said (jokingly?) so many times in broken English and then one night I started to think they meant it. I spent a day calling every one in the city of Albuquerque who knew anything about the ins and outs of adopting a quasi-abandoned Mexican child who technically didn't exist.

Roxana is her big cousin. Roxana's been like a mother to her the past 2 years. Roxana is the 15 year old who's become like a little sister to me in the last year. She tells me everything. Sometimes she spends the weekend at our apartment. She needs the break from the cramped trailer full of 7 little boys and a girl. Several times she brought Anita.

Anita loves making art. I used to let her draw on my walls with chalk and glue and cut and paint all day long. This shy, polite, quiet little girl would turn into a different creature all together at my house. Running and shouting and laughing and rough housing until she was blue in the face.

She was obsessed with washing her feet before bed in the warm water in the bathtub. And I gave her a tiny gold tea cup that she used for everything whenever she was at my house.

One day Roxana and I dressed her up. I tore the American map that had been hanging on my wall for God knows what reason and started cutting and taping it on her. I cut and taped until she looked like she was wearing a little gown and then I cut a piece off to make a bow for her hair. For some of the pictures I told her to look sad (like the one where I had her hold her hands up). Roxana was trying to help me by talking to her in spanish. After a couple minutes I thought "Ok either this kid is the best child actor ever, or Roxana's being mean." "Roxana what are you saying to her?! Why is she crying?" Roxana said, "I told her that if she doesn't do a good job, you're not going to buy her ice cream." This is why 15 year-olds don't make the best mothers.

"Roxana! Tell her I didn't say that!! Anita! I didn't say that! I love you no matter what you do. You don't have to do a good job for me. Do you really want ice cream?"

This child is so sensitive and good. She cries at a moments notice but doesn't make a big thing out of it. She cries silently and she loves everyone. Absolutely everyone.

Roxana said Anita told her that her mom used to pull her by her hair. Once I was brushing her hair and I tugged on it a little. She immediately burst into tears and cried for nearly 10 minutes.

I've wondered about this woman. I've been told she drinks a lot. And gets into fights. And neglected her children. And that her sisters/brothers/parents always had to take care of them. I heard that when the time came for the children to leave, Roxana's father was on the phone with his sister begging her to just let them keep Anita.

In my dream, our plane made several stops at several airports as we flew further south. On the last lay-over, I took Anita off the plane to walk around the airport and go to the bathroom. As we were walking back to the plane I thought "What if we just missed our plane? What if I just kept her?"

The Yellow Balloon Of Victory!

I was out jogging just now (Yay! Good for me!) and I looked up into the sky and this bright yellow balloon was zooming southward in front of the dark grey sky in the north. It was so beautiful and I thought "O My God! I wish I had a camera on me right now!" And then I thought "Oh don't be one of those silly people that's so busy taking photos and video of everything that you never just stop and experience something."

"SO I WILL PAINT IT!" I thought with satisfaction. I will paint this moment from the photograph that I've downloaded in my brain...I'll paint it just as soon as I get a studio. Which guess what people?! ...IS TOMORROW!!! YaYAH!!

I got an email this morning from this nice girl who has a big beautiful brightly lit studio at The Harwood and heard from the Harwood's Director that I was looking for a place to paint.

All these different things this week have just been falling into place. I know my father would be horrified to know that I've quit my day job without having another job lined up or another source of income but I'm just so enthralled with all the possibilities I'm creating and the looming threat of starvation and imprisonment (you do know it's illegal to be poor right, email me privately if you want to know how i know this) at every moment. It's like...Once again there's electricity is in the air....once again there's magic. And once again...I'm starting to believe in fairies.

The Freezing

We have 3 computers. And none of them work well. I usually only use my mac. It's a 7 year old IBookG4 that's just hangin in there as best it can. It has no battery life anymore. If the power cord loses connection I have about 1 minute before the computer powers down entirely, resetting the date to 1970. Why is 1970 the default date?! The power cord is a precious little thing that needs everything to be just so. For the last 10 months "just so" has meant that it has to be plugged into a power cord, not the wall, a powercord. And then I have to wrap a couple elastic hairbands around it to ensure a tight connection. And then prop it up against some cushions or random object nearby so that the little darlings stays comfortable the whole time I use my computer.

We have 3 computers. And none of them work well. I usually only use my mac. It's a 7 year old IBookG4 that's just hangin in there as best it can. It has no battery life anymore. If the power cord loses connection I have about 1 minute before the computer powers down entirely, resetting the date to 1970. Why is 1970 the default date?! The power cord is a precious little thing that needs everything to be just so. For the last 10 months "just so" has meant that it has to be plugged into a power cord, not the wall, a powercord. And then I have to wrap a couple elastic hairbands around it to ensure a tight connection. And then prop it up against some cushions or random object nearby so that the little darlings stays comfortable the whole time I use my computer.

This system has been working for me for 10 months!! Sure I bitch every once in a while "Why does every one but me have a MacBook Pro?!" "How come I can't afford a half way descent computer?" And how come TODAY was the day my feeble little darling of a power cord finally bit the bullet? Thus forcing me to interact with the other 2 as never before.

So all day today I've had things I needed to do with computers. Not big deal things. Just simple things. Things that should take me 5 minutes, maybe 15. And everything took at least 20 times as long as it would have on a better computer...maybe one that was made with in the last 5 years. Maybe one that my husband didn't put together all by his little self on the living room floor one week in 2007 (Ladies and Gentleman: I give you...computer #2)

Don't sneeze! Don't twitch! And heaven for betsy do NOT walk across the living room in your socks and then TOUCH the thing. Because it will die! Or at least power off only to be resuscitated by it's maker (in this case the high Latin teacher I share my life with, the man of my dreams...the man on the other side of the bed, "the lucky man" as he's widely known by so many fellows on the days I just can't seem to find my wedding ring....) BRENDEN!! HELLLLP!

And then there's the lovely HP laptop he was issued for being nice enough to work 70 hours a week educating the youth of america, teaching them to believe in themselves and contribute their latent gifts and talents to the world, in exchange for a bi weekly paycheck that any part time prostitute would snicker at. If you want to SEE what you're doing, while you're doing it (something I enjoy while I'm editing photos) you have to jam your thumb against a certain place under the screen until the lights come up and then HOLD it there for as long as you want to see what you're doing. I mean...I have literally done nothing BUT struggle with computers all day...except go to the doctor and get diagnose with a sinus infection.

But I'm not JUST complaining! (though i'm trying to make my complaints as artful and entertaining as possible and thank you for reading) No no! I have a POINT. "A POINT!" I say. And that point is....."when the going gets tough, the tough get going!" And I have just joined the leagues of The Tough!

I FEEL it!! ...It's like "uh hey stupid ass maddening life circumstances.....you wanna piece of me? I SAID "DO YOU WANT A %$! D@MN F!@#ING PIECE OF MEEEEEE!!!!???" ...or what?

It's like my work ethic is suddenly on steroids. Which is funny...funny that I should use that metaphor that is because I actually am on steroids technically. My doctor prescribed me some prednisone today...for my sinus infection. I really like prednisone. Last time I took it I had so much energy and was so upbeat and hungry...like i woke up in the middle of the night..every night..to wander into a darkened kitchen and kneel in front of the frigerator and eat munster, milk chocolate, olives, cottage cheese, and bread in alternating bites under the flattering light of that lightbulb in the frigerator that turns on when you open the door...

And it's so auspicious that I have begun my quest to rise from this impoverished obscurity on the very same week that my fair city of Albuquerque New Mexico (that's right we're actually not in Arizona...or Texas) has chosen to rise out of her obscurity! (or atleast any obscure references to Bugs Bunny) and make national headlines both in Weather and in How-The-Hell-Can-They-Be-So-Incompetent (but any news is good news) notoriety.

You guys have heard right? We've been having below zero temperatures all week. We were "the coldest metropolis in the lower 48 today. Meaning Alaska is colder but whatever. 2 important things to note there? 1. we can get cold here (cold enough to burst yo mama's pipes! uh oh! no she didn't! what now!?) and 2. We're a metropolis people!! ya!ya! what you don't know nothing 'bout albuquerque. thought it was a place Bugs Bunny made up?? some po'dunk town in the middle of NOWHERE??? You should be ashamed of yourself! You should be ashamed of yourself!

I'm just so proud! I really am! I don't know how she DID IT! I mean getting schools canceled all week long? I mean I really didn't know she had it in her.

And bursting all those pipes. And gas outages in HOW many suburbs?? Goodness! I just...I feel like a proud mama!

The Jupiter Salute

Last night I dreamt I moved to Jupiter.  As in...the planet.   It took 6 weeks to get there.  It's exciting when you think about it because that means my astrobody actually went to Jupiter last night.  And Jupiter has always been my favorite planet.  Did you know that there is a spot on one of Jupiter's moons that is absolutely perfect for human life?

They were sending whole shipload of orphans there.  All I had to do was take care of 6 orphans during the 6 week space voyage, and that was how I paid for my voyage.

Today it snowed.

The Drowning

Today has been the most god awful day and nothing bad even happened! I had nothing to do except a TO DO LIST and I did most of it. The weather was the most over cast, cloudy, rainy, snowy, sleety weather possible. The first half of the day was filled with anxiety and a nagging feeling of guilt and the 2nd half was filled with levels of boredom so ferocious I started to burst into tears of frustration every half-hour but then couldn't even seem to do that. I couldn't even properly burst into tears. It was like this...oh I'd really like to burst into tears and moan and wail while writhing desperately on the carpet but there's not really anything to cry about i'm just stuck in the most impossible nebulous zone...half suspicious that I may be the star of a new internet sitcom....probably one of those dark and dry, existential comedies that I never really enjoy.

Around 7:30 I went down to my apartment complex's year-round heated jacuzzi (something which in this weather seemed absurd enough to springboard me out of my meloncholic-brat-hipster-whiny bitch funk) with my Magic Mic in hand (see picture above) and floated around while singing that new Nicki Minaj song along with some hot tub improv. But not even the fine art of Hot Tub Karaoke could chase away the thoughts of "Where the fuck are my friends?!" and "Do I even have any friends?!" and "Why are you quitting your day job to commit to a life of lonely freelancing? You're just going to be all miserable and crazy...you can't even handle 1 day alone without nearly drowning yourself in a jacuzzi?"

I KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What am I thinking?!?! I don't know what I'm doing! I'm don't know what I'm doing! What the hell am I doing!!?

Let's Begin!

   Drawing:   "The Eternal Torment Of The Guilty Mind"            

Photo:"Somewhere Else"

I've decided on what my rules will be for this Blog.  I must make and post a drawing and a self-portrait 5 days a week.  I get the weekends off.  This is good because sometimes I don't enjoy the weekends because I keep thinking I should be getting stuff done instead of relaxing.  But relaxing is important.  Especially for me, I can turn into a big stress ball sometimes.  I will post extra things occasionally but 5 drawings and photos a week is the rule.  I will consider today, Monday January 31st, the beginning.  "The Great Beginning!" I say.

This weekend Roxana and I did a project together.  We worked on it for 8 hours saturday and we're still not quite done.  I will post pictures of the finished project soon.  It's going to be a gift for a little girl who's very special to both of us. 

Drawing: "One Last Try"

Photo: "Fret"

I didn't draw or post last night.  I was so tired and there was just no time and then all day today I was trying to think of how to make up for missing a day.  Consistency has always been the biggest weakness of mine.  To do something everyday, for longer than a week or so. . . It's just never happened before.  And so I say: "This time will be different!" 

And then the other me says: "What's wrong with you? Why the hell is it suddenly gonna be so different?"

"Shut up!  I don't need you anymore...saying this shit to me and making me feel bad...you big downer just go away...I'm in charge now."

So that's where we're at tonight.

To moving forward!

Day 2

The drawing is called "Mira"  and the photograph is titled "Community Meeting."

I have nothing to say about either of them right now.  I've had a hard night.  

Making this drawing was strangely emotional.

Happy Half-Birthday Mom

So I realize that it is technically the 23rd...but how this works is...I just have to get it in before I go to bed...and to me...it is still the same day that it was a few hours ago...the tomorrow i spoke of yesterday if you will.

So here it is: My drawing du jour. I call it "Empathizing With My Abusers." Followed by a self-portrait which I call "Such A Cartoon."

I've been thinking about what the rules will be. I have a huge interest at present in creating rules for myself and then forcing myself to adhere to them strictly. I've decided that I have until the end of the week to determine the exact rules of this project...the 29th that is....also known as the early morning hours of the 30th. Until then, all I know is I must make and post a drawing and a self-portrait every day.

Last weekend I bought a toy at Borders called a Magic Mic. It's turning out to be the best $4 I've ever spent. It makes an echo sound when you sing into it. It makes me feel like a 3 year old who's having a rock star fantasy about the Little Mermaid. And when that little crab crawls up to me saying that I have no business singing so boldly because I'm not very good at it at all, I just look down at my red, yellow, and blue Magic Mic and wail away.

Today I wrote a song about my garbage disposal. My cat loved it! The chorus goes like: "When the going gets tough, the tough get going, but the garbage disposal dies." Maybe someday, someone besides my cat will hear it.

Oh and by the way...this is how I do my make-up everyday. Like, every single day. It's just my life style.

My half birthday

I realized at exactly 12:00am this morning, January 21st, that I missed my own half-birthday. It was January 20th, as it has always been, and I didn't even note it until the very minute it was officially over.

I don't know what this means. This has never happened before.

I think it's a sign. A sign that things (pertaining to me) that have never happened before (again in the most self-absorbed sense possible) are about to start happening.

So I'm very excited.

Also, do you realized that the year 2011, if you just loosen the joint on the 2 where the straight horizontal line is connected and then swing it up so that it rests against the top of the 2, it spells the word DOLL. And I don't know what that means either. But I think it's very interesting and i am excited to see what the year of the DOLL will bring.

Last night I watched Julie & Julia, which is about 2 different women living at 2 different time periods, who both happen to have a name very similar to my own, jumping off the ship of what others thought was wise or possible and doing things they'd always wanted to do and having enormous success.

Amy Adams character is a failed writer working a crappy job who never finishes anything because she has ADD, and she's about to turn 30. It's not like I relate to her or anything.

She decides to cook her way through Julia Child's cook book and blog about it. She has to cook every day and she likes the idea of having something constant in her life that she does every day.

I need that too! Something to accomplish everyday. A daily ritual. So I've decided that I will make a drawing every day and a self-portrait photograph. And then I will post them to the blog and write a short message, but only about the drawing and the photograph. I will start tomorrow, January 22nd, my mother's half-birthday.