The story so far...
I'm not sure if I'm ready for February.
February seems like a lifetime ago. By the end of the month, a friend who works with Doctors Without Borders and my own GP were telling me I needed to hunker down and prepare to isolate for me and my mother's safety. We've been at this for a little over eight weeks now.
The late Valentine's commissions have started coming in now that I've hung out my shingle as an artist. There's also the fact that so many people expect a perfect moment from the objects of their affection or if there is no significant other, they either scramble to get the vacancy filled or mourn that they are not part of a couple or...or... By the fifteenth, I'm tuckered out.
So, about that... Shows have been canceled, the artists' coops in Nashville are all on pause. Galleries have sent "To be continued..." notes to people they were considering for representation. I hope there are places for artists in the post-COVID world.
"What are you looking forward to this month?" asked my clinical director.
"New season of The Masked Singer? Daffodils? Another month closer to gardening and doing papier mache outside? Road trips?"
He nodded sympathetically. Dealing with the distressed has ruined the holidays for all of us in my field. I look with bemusement at the quilted heart on my work table. It might as well be a sigil for some occultist with a fetish for the circulatory system. Maybe I've just reached a point where true love is sharing soup recipes and understanding when your friend is distraught because his Yorkie doesn't seem to like her cowgirl outfit.
Dealing with the mildly distressed is a thing of the past. I am dealing with people who are terrified. Some of my clients are grieving. Some of them are so angry they are making themselves sick.
What am I looking forward to now? I made promises to myself that I would somehow make the world a better place. Do I have any idea how or what that will be? No. My generation and the one before have written some checks we're obviously expecting the Millennials to cover. Nope. We've got some work to do fixing things.
I am making no promises about the month ahead. I might write some stuff. I might draw something. Then again, I might use my off time to eat whatever is allowable on my food list and watch episodes of The Mighty Boosh. However you decide to spend your February, I hope you enjoy it.
The Mighty Boosh? Oh, I was so young back in February. Maybe I should watch it. It might distract me from thinking about the fact that this Sheltering In Place thing is not some goofy social experiment, but an exercise in staying alive.
Okay, to be fair, we're sort of digging it. Everything...EVERYTHING that isn't here and needs our attention is happening online. Life at Spaceship Faulkner is an introvert's dream. It would be awesome if it wasn't for the pandemic, the funerals of friends in the health care field, the spoiled babies who think they're going to die if they don't get haircuts making my slapping hand itch, and...
Is there going to be anything new here? I hope so. I am drawing some colo(u)ring sheets. I have been talking to friends -some of whom figured in the old Confessions of a Cheese Grits Fiend blog- about a new set of stories. Stay tuned and have a great weekend.
Namaste, y'all!
Jas
I'm not sure if I'm ready for February.
February seems like a lifetime ago. By the end of the month, a friend who works with Doctors Without Borders and my own GP were telling me I needed to hunker down and prepare to isolate for me and my mother's safety. We've been at this for a little over eight weeks now.
The late Valentine's commissions have started coming in now that I've hung out my shingle as an artist. There's also the fact that so many people expect a perfect moment from the objects of their affection or if there is no significant other, they either scramble to get the vacancy filled or mourn that they are not part of a couple or...or... By the fifteenth, I'm tuckered out.
So, about that... Shows have been canceled, the artists' coops in Nashville are all on pause. Galleries have sent "To be continued..." notes to people they were considering for representation. I hope there are places for artists in the post-COVID world.
"What are you looking forward to this month?" asked my clinical director.
"New season of The Masked Singer? Daffodils? Another month closer to gardening and doing papier mache outside? Road trips?"
He nodded sympathetically. Dealing with the distressed has ruined the holidays for all of us in my field. I look with bemusement at the quilted heart on my work table. It might as well be a sigil for some occultist with a fetish for the circulatory system. Maybe I've just reached a point where true love is sharing soup recipes and understanding when your friend is distraught because his Yorkie doesn't seem to like her cowgirl outfit.
Dealing with the mildly distressed is a thing of the past. I am dealing with people who are terrified. Some of my clients are grieving. Some of them are so angry they are making themselves sick.
What am I looking forward to now? I made promises to myself that I would somehow make the world a better place. Do I have any idea how or what that will be? No. My generation and the one before have written some checks we're obviously expecting the Millennials to cover. Nope. We've got some work to do fixing things.
I am making no promises about the month ahead. I might write some stuff. I might draw something. Then again, I might use my off time to eat whatever is allowable on my food list and watch episodes of The Mighty Boosh. However you decide to spend your February, I hope you enjoy it.
The Mighty Boosh? Oh, I was so young back in February. Maybe I should watch it. It might distract me from thinking about the fact that this Sheltering In Place thing is not some goofy social experiment, but an exercise in staying alive.
Okay, to be fair, we're sort of digging it. Everything...EVERYTHING that isn't here and needs our attention is happening online. Life at Spaceship Faulkner is an introvert's dream. It would be awesome if it wasn't for the pandemic, the funerals of friends in the health care field, the spoiled babies who think they're going to die if they don't get haircuts making my slapping hand itch, and...
Is there going to be anything new here? I hope so. I am drawing some colo(u)ring sheets. I have been talking to friends -some of whom figured in the old Confessions of a Cheese Grits Fiend blog- about a new set of stories. Stay tuned and have a great weekend.
Namaste, y'all!
Jas
What's New @ Zen Dixie
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