Let the fun begin!

School, finals, holidays are all history now, and today is (jumping up and down) my sobriety birthdate. Yep. Eighteen years now. My, how the time doth fly. And most of the time, I feel about that old, emotionally, at least. I also have gained some wisdom, none of it by myself. Nothing I know is particularly new, though some little metaphors I coined in my tiny little mind, but the concepts are as old as our race. Like be kind because I feel better about myself when I am, so I have let go of needing to be right. Most of the time. And today is the only really important moment. Yes, I am all excited about the frames I ordered for my paintings, and the table and stool for the studio, which up till now has been a cluttered mess and will now get organized into a workable space. They will not come today, however. Today I will lunch with a dear woman and receive my first birthday chip at the noon meeting. It is a funny moment, that, knowing that all I did was stay out of HP's way and not drink, one day at a time. It is still good to celebrate that admittedly small achievement, knowing that there are thousands who cannot do that. I was saying to a sponsee how wonderful it would be to be able to just give sobriety to those I think need it. And she replied "It wouldn't be very valuable if we could." So true. So, into the day to see what gifts there are in it.

Old is the new fresh...

I am feeling my age. First, I had a mental breakdown during my math final. Most of what I thought I knew, suddenly I didn't. So, to forget how ashamed I was of myself (I should have studied, didn't, just couldn't face it anymore), I went to the movies, where I saw the new National Treasure, because I knew it would be inaninity squared, and I didn't want anything that made me think too much. It sufficed quite adequately. When I got up to leave, I think I creaked. Two hours and I was in total body lock. Sigh. So I guess old has arrived, and I need a new word to describe the reality of my existence. "Young" doesn't cut it anymore. So I decided on "fresh", as opposed to "stale", which is what happened to my mother. She is the personification of one of my favorite bumper-sticker wisdoms - if you can't be a good example, you'll have to be a horrible warning. There is nothing that can excite her, she has done and seen everything, ho-hum. Whereas I go out the front door and get all excited because the camelias are blooming, again. I am blown away by a blue bowl of tangerines, which I hope to paint a portrait of today. I love my new book of Egon Schiele's work that my daughter gave me for Christmas (we do that early in our family, don't ask), and it will give me pleasure for years to come. It is like that menu item in my "view" dialogue box, "refresh". I want to keep my mind always refreshed by wonder. Beginner's mind, you know. That's the place to hang out.

Just one more thing to take care of (sigh)...

As if it wasn't bad enough that this is finals week, horrendous cummulative math final, enormous drawing project final, icky-picky trompe l'oiel painting project final, and, okay, not so big sociology final, not to mention Christmas, which comes early in my family, the Saturday before, and my house looks like downtown Bagdhad, yesterday, my kitchen sink backed up, again. I have an first-name basis relationship with a plumber because of the pipes in the little yellow house. While the bathroom backing up is horrible, and mega-expensive, at least that does not accrue to me, as it is usually roots in the main line, and those belong to my landlord. But the kitchen is another story. The kitchen backs up when I have the audacity to use the garbage disposal. That clog has me written all over it. Of course, I hit Safeway for their drain cleaner special of the week first, even though I knew it probably wouldn't work, and the plumber would stare at me incredulously when I told him I did it. Like dude, do I look stupid? It's like this: $6.99 or $147.00. Duh. This time, not only did it not work, but before I did it, it was draining, very slooooooowly, but draining. And after, nada. It was Sunday, so I bought a bigger bottle of some different stuff and tried again. And again. When I went to bed last night, there was all this foamy stuff just sitting there in the sink, looking back at me (I always try running the garbage disposal, too, like hey, it could work, and that makes all this pretty foam). Before hitting the sack, I looked up my plumber's phone number, so, even as I speak, the phone book is sitting here, open to the finger-walking pages. But, lo! The Christmas Miracle Fairy visited me in the night, and my drain is clear and gurgling merrily! Ah, the things I must be grateful for these days. Makes me want to shop with that $147.00 I just saved.

Fast away the old semester passes...

Tomorrow is last day of regular classes. Except they are not regular. No homework. Math is a dead week, and attendance is discretionary. Not so for me. I need all the help I can get, so I will be there, as bright and bushytailed as I can get. Painting, well, my final one is pretty done. Actually, I think it is overdone, and doesn't need any more picking over. The homework project needs some fine tuning, but is almost there, too. Drawing, that's another story. I turned in my portfolio today, but the final project isn't even started yet. Thank the powers that be, it is not due till next Wednesday morning, at the godawful hour of 7 AM. I forgot that 9 AM classes have that problem. Sigh. Really, only one horror to get through, and that is next Thursday, also at 7 AM, the math final. Well, it is all doable, and will soon be over. I intend to just lay around for several days, drinking oolong tea (which I hear speeds up the metabolism something nifty) and watching reruns of ER and Without a Trace. After I sell back my books and my calculator, which I hope to never see again. Adieu, simplex program! So long, sinking fund equations! Freedom, thy name is winter break.

Ah, youth!

I just got some CDs made for me by an old lover who shared my generation, and is a collector of old vinyl 45's, has been since our youth, and has a seemingly endless library of 50s music, not just rock and roll, also showtunes and that jazzy stuff, the folk music stuff, all of it. He loves to make me mixes , and I get all juicy when I listen to it, especially when I come upon a Johnny Mathis tune. God, I loved that guy. Still do, I guess. I am planning on obtaining a turntable that hooks into my computer just so I can record my vinyl, now residing in a box in the garage, on CDs and put them all on my iPod, too. My youth lives within me still. I listen to this music, and think I want to be in love, but wait! I am, with me and my life. I am the person I have been waiting to show up for me all my life. Good news. Wherever I go, there I am!

Sometimes I amaze myself...

Today was portfolio review in painting class. I had 13 paintings to discuss, and 2 more coming. My, how prolific am I! My final painting is almost done, too, a trompe l'oiel (fool the eye) of a collage of brightly colored shapes I cut out and stuck onto this piece of corrugated cardboard with push pins. The painting has all those details, the corrugation, the push pins, everything. It is pretty dynamite, if I do say so myself. I was kind of amazed. It only needs some fine tuning in the cast shadows, some edges that got a little blurry, and get all those pins the same size. I have to admit, it is soooooo much fun when I can actually do the assignment with some elan. I am waiting for the moment when I am comfortable saying that I am an artist. It is coming, for sure.