Wednesday, May 22, 2013I've kind of been feeling like I'm having a shitty week* and then, when I was on my way home from dropping off my kid at school, I saw a guy coming out of a liquor store at 8:30AM, clutching a 6 pack of Budweiser like it was his only friend in the world
So, yeah, I'm officially no longer complaining.
*blah blah blah depression, blah blah blah stress about moving
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Both ends of the communication spectrumI found out that my brother's wife is pregnant via a comment one of her friends left on her facebook.
Some random person with whom I've been playing What's That Phrase sent me a personal message on the game to let me know that he (or she, I don't know) was going to be away for the weekend and didn't know if he (or she) would have internet access to be able to take their turns*.
*turns out that they do, in fact, have internet access in Vermont. Who knew?
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
How to ruin an otherwise perfectly pleasant conversationsomeone: so, are you still doing that... what's that stuff you do?
someone: what is it? Knitting or sewing or whatever?
me: ... art? Are you asking if I'm still an artist?
someone: oh, yeah, that. Are you still doing that stuff?
pro-tip for dealing with artsy/craftsy/creative people - if you're going to be dismissive and act like that person spends the days gluing macaroni to construction paper, just don't bring it up, mmmmkay?
Labels: arts and crafts
Sunday, May 12, 2013Today, in one of my semi-annual phone conversations with my mom, in between regaling me with stories about how she believes Asians purchase shoes* and anecdotes about the nine pounds of zucchini she purchased yesterday, she starts in on a rant about the way kids dress these days.
Somewhere in the middle of "they just need to pull up their pants" and "it must be so hard to find a shirt that isn't clingy", she mentions how she remembers that when I was in high school, I had to be careful about what colors I wore because of the gangs.
Apparently, my mom has forgotten that I went to a high school that was only slightly less ethnically diverse than the Republican National Convention and now believes that I spent my formative years in South Central Los Angeles. Someone remind me to draw on a teardrop tattoo before I see her again...
*what? Seriously, even if I told you the whole conversation, it wouldn't make sense so I won't bother
Wednesday, May 01, 2013
Testing my neighbors across the street to see if they watch the Discovery ID Channel* as much as I doThe dude has been out of town for a few days so his car hasn't moved from the driveway and The Kid has had a different schedule this week and our comings and goings have been unusual.
This morning, the neighbors were all out in their front yard and I, purposely avoiding eye contact**, hauled several heavy black trash bags out to my trunk, jumped in my car and sped off down the street.
It was really just some clothes for the thrift store, we're moving again in a month or so and trying to clean out and pare down again, but if it was me, I would have thought I looked suspicious as hell. I'm really going to be disappointed if I don't at least get a visit from the cop next door.
*the channel should really be named The People In Florida Who Kill Their Spouses Channel
** not like this is really any different from usual
Monday, April 22, 2013Do you ever have those times when you realize that the younger you would never recognize your current life?
Like when, in the same week, you have an appointment with a private Catholic high school admissions counselor for your kid and then an appointment with a veterinary oncologist* for your cat.
Although, that moment you realize that you have nothing remotely appropriate** to wear to the school/church thing, you do know that the younger you is still lurking around somewhere.
*last week my precious Siamese cat was diagnosed with cancer and he's only 8-years-old and he's the coolest cat and let's not going to talk about it anymore because I'm barely keeping it together right now, k?
** I know that the school really can't say shit to me as long as the checks clear and my kid doesn't organize an on-campus live animal sacrifice, but I don't want people to treat him differently because his mom is a dirtbag who wears nothing but dirty jeans and tank tops.
Labels: first world problems
Saturday, April 20, 2013
I should just accept that I'm never going to be coolSo I got invited to be in another art show thing (you know because I'm an artist and all, I have business cards and everything) at a brand new gallery, I made some pieces and sent them off (because that's how it works) and the show opened today and it was local(ish) so I went.
The bad (for me) thing about shows is that people are looking at my stuff right in front of me. I mean, I know that I make art and post pictures of it and I'm assuming that people are seeing those pictures, but that's different than someone seeing my stuff in front of me.
It's probably got something to do with how I'm super duper critical of my own work and if I have a chance, I'll point out every single flaw in everything I've ever made. I will actively try to talk someone out of trying to like something of mine.
But some of my artist friends were there (that's also how art shows work, it's a clusterfuck of artists sending in their pieces), and it's always good to see people I know (so I can avoid talking to new people) and I happen to like art stuff, too, so I was kind of excited (and nervous and barfy).
Some of my art friends and I happened to be hanging out in the room where our art was being displayed and there were some people looking at said art. They made a comment on one of my pieces and one of my art friends pointed out to the people that I was the artist - they were very nice and complimentary, but I kind of felt douchey for hanging out by my art.
A couple of minutes later, the curator lady comes to tell me that the lady had decided to buy one of my pieces. I hugged her and insisted on having my picture taken with her because I'm a total dork. Then I found out her name and found her Twitter and found out that she's some kind of a professor at one of the film school university places around here.
And then it turned out that not only was it my first piece of the night to sell, it was the first piece of the show and of the gallery. So, yeah, that happened.
(the one that sold is the Poltergeist piece in the middle. The Gremlins piece below it is mine, too. The bra piece belongs to one of my arty friends and the science piece down and to the right belongs to one of my other arty friends)
And if you want to check out the exhibit, it's going to be going on until May 18th and you can read more about it here.
Labels: arts and crafts
Monday, April 15, 2013I've had moments in the past 14* years when I was positive that I was the worst parent in the world. I'm sure every parent has had those moments.
I watched something this weekend, though, that confirms that I am neither the worst, nor the best parent in the world.
The Kid's team was playing in the championship game of a tournament. It was a pretty intense game, both teams were playing hard and it was becoming pretty physical, as basketball sometimes does. During a play right in front of the bleachers, a player from our team and a player from their team crashed in to each other. Their player fell down, our player, displaying remarkable balance, managed to stay standing up and got the ball.
Their player, in what I assume was a desperate moment, wrapped his legs around our player's legs in an effort to stop him. It was a dirty play. The referee saw it and called it a flagrant foul while our player was trying to extricate himself. Shit happens, as long as no one is bleeding, the game continues, right?
Nope, the mother of the flagrant fouler flew off of the bleachers and punched our player in the chest.
Yep, a grown woman ran into the middle of an organized sporting event and punched a 14-year-old boy.
Before I can even wrap my brain around what was going on, the mother of the punched child sheds her hat and sunglasses and launches herself at the woman who is assaulting her son. (fortunately for the assaulter, 4 or 5 guys from the tournament managed to break up the situation before any real damage happened)
I generally like this mom, she's kind of loud and funny, entertaining enough I even excuse her occasionally wearing her sunglasses inside, but now that I know she has the reflexes of a Jedi (and still came out of this with her false eyelashes in place), I've upgraded her from "generally like" to "genuinely like".
The moment of the day, though, came from our team mom. She had been sitting next to the Jedi mom when the whole situation happened. She saw the Jedi drop her accessories and come out swinging. "I knew I wasn't going to be able to stop her," she said. "But I saw her shirt was riding up and her chonies were showing, so I reached over and pulled her shirt down."
That is some wisdom right there - recognizing that sometimes there's no way you're going to be able to change a situation and the best you can do is to make sure that no one's panties are showing.
Additional nuggets of wisdom? Basketball games are not Mexican wrestling events where the spectators are allowed to participate. Also, don't put your hands on someone else's child**.
*15 years if you include the time when I was pregnant
**and if you do, don't be surprised and/or argue when you get tossed out and have the cops called on you. And don't get me started on the parents next to us who thought the whole thing was HIIIIILLLLarious. Sorry, if you're not mortified that someone representing your team just assaulted an 8th grader, you shouldn't be trusted with houseplants let alone children.
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Friday, April 12, 2013
Note to selfComplete nail polish first.
Then take an Ambien.
Not the other way around.
Sunday, April 07, 2013
Not exactly No More Mr. Nice Guy, but maybe a little less of itLast year I gave away a lot of my art. Probably about 20% of the pieces I made. I gave them away to journalists who did articles on me, to friends who liked particular pieces, to friends who asked me to make pieces for them, to family members, basically to anyone who liked them.
You know what's crazy, though? I didn't even get a thank you for probably 90% of the stuff I gave away.
Like the woman I've known for probably 7 or 8 years (mostly online) who sent me a message on facebook to ask me to make a quote from a movie she liked. I made the piece, sent it out and didn't hear a damn thing until she wanted something else from me 2 months later (didn't hear from her again when I pointed her to where the item she wanted was listed in my shop).
Or my brother and sister-in-law - for the past couple years, we've only been doing Christmas gifts for kids (not the adults). Since I'm nice, last Christmas, I sent her a box containing stuff for her kids, a package of homemade gingerbread biscotti and a bottle of wine for the adults. I didn't even get an acknowledgement until a week after Christmas when I emailed her to ask if she'd gotten the package (and I know it's jackass-y to ask for acknowledgement of a present, but fuck her for not getting my kid anything). (and, yeah, I know I was talking about giving away my art and this wasn't about my art, but I still think it's fucked up since we're in April and they still never sent my kid anything for Christmas...).
Initially, I decided that I was just going to stop being nice. I mean, fuck people, they're all ungrateful fuckers, right? But then I realized that I'm not the one who needs to change the way I am. I don't give away stuff because I need a ticker tape parade, I give stuff away because I like when people like my stuff, I like to know that people want to have my stuff in their houses, I like people having my stuff in their houses (or offices). So I'm not going to stop giving my stuff away, I'm just going to put a little more effort into giving my stuff to people who aren't ungrateful jerks (although I am going to stop putting effort into getting Christmas presents for people don't find my family important enough to get presents for)
My point here is that lots of people act like they're entitled. And they're not. And neither am I, so I'm going to focus on being grateful for the stuff that comes my way - whether it's someone holding open the door for me at the post office, or the two or three people in the world who read my rambling emails or someone who likes my art enough to want it. I'm going to try to hold on to the good stuff and let the bad stuff slip through my fingers.