I didn't work on my film yesterday because I did my blogging and writing away from home and all my film stuff was at home. Which I guess is an excuse. I suppose I should stop making those. Hm. Food for thought, that. At any rate, I did do the blogging and writing, so that's a 66%. Passing, by just a smidge.
It feels weird and good to be creating again. Just the act of it is wonderful. Nothing I've ever made is a masterpiece: I paint for my own pleasure, and because my students enjoy bidding on my paintings at a charity auction they hold every year. I used to draw during classes but now that I'm finished with school I've tossed my sketch book, though I can't bring myself to get rid of the gel pens I used. Those things are expensive. I used to do a little papercraft, though that was really more about buying a lot of scrapbooking paper. Now I take piles of it to school and let my students occasionally do "setting" posters with them. I have an entire tackle box full of jewelry tools and beads and odds and ends, but I haven't done jewelry in forever. It's likely I never will but I've been known to pick up a hobby again after a dormant decade, so I refuse to get rid of it. Film probably won't last as a hobby but that's OK because I already have all the materials and tools necessary to do it, so I'm not laying out any money and it's keeping me off the street.
My breath is kickin'. I had garlic for lunch (not just garlic, though I could totally do that) and I just had some Oreos. Together, they are stirring up a real stink inside my face. Be glad there are two screens and a series of tubes separating you and me. I have a short week at work this week (no school tomorrow or Friday), and I'm going to win the Powerball tonight. What's not to love, right? I somehow even managed not to nap tonight. Napping is my Achilles heel in the winter. When the sun dips below the horizon so early and everything's all dark and closed in... it's not as if I'm a water skier or mountain climber in spring and summer, but it's a hell of a lot easier to stay up when my body's not trying to convince me that it' hibernation time. I think I might be part bear. That would explain a lot of things about my life.
I need to make an appointment at a new dentist. I'm terrified, which is odd. I've always loved the dentist; I love getting all the crap cleaned out of my teeth (confession time: I'm the worst about flossing. THE. WORST) and all of it. I used to love my dentist, until he made misogynist and anti-Semitic jokes last year. I also think he might have screwed up my filling (which I'll find out when I see the new dentist), but I'd have gone back to get it fixed if it hadn't been for the jokes. Like, who does that? He's probably in his sixties and typically I give olds a pass on casual sexism and racism, but the fact is this: I'm 36 now - 60 isn't old anymore. It's certainly no longer old enough to have been around for a significant amount of time before the civil rights movement. And this isn't even the South! (I mean, MO was a slave state, but it wasn't actually part of the Confederacy.) Not that racists aren't everywhere, and god knows there are enough people who drive around with Confederate flag bumper stickers...
OK, times up!
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