More
Contact
Submit
Premium
Today, I was talking to my roommate, Josh, when he asked me, "What number painting are you on?"
I don't consider myself a highly irratable person, but this irked me. Much to the chagrin of AT&T Wireless, Southern California Edison, and the overflowing trashcan in my kitchen, I live life according to this philosophy:
I thought this was a clever and original, but after finishing Gone With The Wind, I realized the that impetuous Scarlett O'Hara also uses this handy trick, often uttering, "I won't think on it now, I'll think on it tomorrow when I can stand it." That being said, it's not a personality trait that people consider cute, quirky, sweet or endearing. It may have been charming in the 19th century when women were expected to be demure and clueless, but modern society has no patience for this modus operendi. If you don't believe me, I'll let you listen to some of my (unchecked) angry voicemails. Only, please, don't tell me whatever it is that you hear. It's better that I don't know.
Like I was saying, as I was being interrogated about my progress on this project, I realized that it probably wouldn't hurt to know exactly how far behind I am...and maybe it could even turn out to be a good motivator. I took my headphones off. I always wear them when I'm painting, whether or not I'm listening to anything. I do this because I'm trying to insinuate to the people I live with that I am unavailable for snappy banter or chit chat. It doesn't work. They just talk louder.
Curious, I grabbed a calculator, punched a couple buttons and saw that by Thursday, I should be finishing painting 13. At best, I'll be done with painting 11, and starting number 12, but that means I am only two paintings behind. Sweet! This made me feel giddy, in the same way that I feel relieved when I accidentally answer my cell phone and find that Wells Fargo isn't calling to berate me, but just to give thanks for being such a loyal customer.
OK, so that's never actually happened. Whenever I answer their calls (they've started using tricky private numbers that don't show up on caller ID) they're either selling me something or scolding me. I don't know which is worse.
That being said, I worked very hard today! I started and almost finished a new painting, concentrating for a solid 8 hours. I may have been able to concentrate for longer, but I was disgusted by the HORRIBLE audiobook that I downloaded from my
Mother's audible (online audiobook seller) account. She typically purchases awesome books, but lately it's been slim pickins'. This gem is called "A Reliable Wife" and it is chock full of horrible, unlikeable characters who are all repressed or perverted, and in most cases, a little of both. I thoroughly enjoy a little perversion with my literature, but this was borderline pitiful, and the narrator in the book didn't help. When you have a depraved character in a novel, you should make him clever, charming, or exceptionally good looking. Otherwise, he's just creepy and why should the reader care what happens to him?
I also ran over ten miles tonight, which was awesome. I've had a breakthrough in the last week with running. I have absolutely no pain or discomfort at all when I run. It feels *easy*. Usually, I have to push myself to go farther even though I am in considerable pain and feel like stopping every time I pass a McDonalds to get one of their delicious soft serve ice cream cones. On a 10 mile run through Santa Ana, this happens more often than you might realize. But today, I didn't have to summon my inner commandant and I probably could have kept on running, except I wore this losery pair of running shorts that give me a ridiculousl wedgie. I hate that.
I don't consider myself a highly irratable person, but this irked me. Much to the chagrin of AT&T Wireless, Southern California Edison, and the overflowing trashcan in my kitchen, I live life according to this philosophy:
I thought this was a clever and original, but after finishing Gone With The Wind, I realized the that impetuous Scarlett O'Hara also uses this handy trick, often uttering, "I won't think on it now, I'll think on it tomorrow when I can stand it." That being said, it's not a personality trait that people consider cute, quirky, sweet or endearing. It may have been charming in the 19th century when women were expected to be demure and clueless, but modern society has no patience for this modus operendi. If you don't believe me, I'll let you listen to some of my (unchecked) angry voicemails. Only, please, don't tell me whatever it is that you hear. It's better that I don't know. 
Like I was saying, as I was being interrogated about my progress on this project, I realized that it probably wouldn't hurt to know exactly how far behind I am...and maybe it could even turn out to be a good motivator. I took my headphones off. I always wear them when I'm painting, whether or not I'm listening to anything. I do this because I'm trying to insinuate to the people I live with that I am unavailable for snappy banter or chit chat. It doesn't work. They just talk louder. Curious, I grabbed a calculator, punched a couple buttons and saw that by Thursday, I should be finishing painting 13. At best, I'll be done with painting 11, and starting number 12, but that means I am only two paintings behind. Sweet! This made me feel giddy, in the same way that I feel relieved when I accidentally answer my cell phone and find that Wells Fargo isn't calling to berate me, but just to give thanks for being such a loyal customer.
OK, so that's never actually happened. Whenever I answer their calls (they've started using tricky private numbers that don't show up on caller ID) they're either selling me something or scolding me. I don't know which is worse.
That being said, I worked very hard today! I started and almost finished a new painting, concentrating for a solid 8 hours. I may have been able to concentrate for longer, but I was disgusted by the HORRIBLE audiobook that I downloaded from my
Mother's audible (online audiobook seller) account. She typically purchases awesome books, but lately it's been slim pickins'. This gem is called "A Reliable Wife" and it is chock full of horrible, unlikeable characters who are all repressed or perverted, and in most cases, a little of both. I thoroughly enjoy a little perversion with my literature, but this was borderline pitiful, and the narrator in the book didn't help. When you have a depraved character in a novel, you should make him clever, charming, or exceptionally good looking. Otherwise, he's just creepy and why should the reader care what happens to him?I also ran over ten miles tonight, which was awesome. I've had a breakthrough in the last week with running. I have absolutely no pain or discomfort at all when I run. It feels *easy*. Usually, I have to push myself to go farther even though I am in considerable pain and feel like stopping every time I pass a McDonalds to get one of their delicious soft serve ice cream cones. On a 10 mile run through Santa Ana, this happens more often than you might realize. But today, I didn't have to summon my inner commandant and I probably could have kept on running, except I wore this losery pair of running shorts that give me a ridiculousl wedgie. I hate that.
