Divinatory echoes...
You know, a while ago I did a reading that mentioned that my near-future concerns would be trying to make the best art I could...and that it would echo into other areas of my life. It finally seems to be kicking in a bit. I'm halfway done with a doll for someone at work. (I have to find the right kind of box to send another off to someone:) I've been pokey.) It seems to be the only thing right now I'm doing that makes a decent bid for my attention. Work is very unrewarding, frustrating and migraine-y. Home is quiet, or filled with necessary chores.
(I need to do my laundry, dust my knicknacks, check my bankbook, etcetra, etcetera, and of course, etcetra...) I'm taking another much-needed break from the dating scene lest I rip out some poor unsuspecting guy's throat in a surge of hormone-driven fury. (What's that moon phase again?) But the artwork is satisfying even when I'm frustrated and have to carve off a dolly face *again* because I keep screwing up the expression of the eyes.
Today, extra ibuprofin for work. And a lot of tums or something, until I can get home, make dinner and try to finish the doll.
(I need to do my laundry, dust my knicknacks, check my bankbook, etcetra, etcetera, and of course, etcetra...) I'm taking another much-needed break from the dating scene lest I rip out some poor unsuspecting guy's throat in a surge of hormone-driven fury. (What's that moon phase again?) But the artwork is satisfying even when I'm frustrated and have to carve off a dolly face *again* because I keep screwing up the expression of the eyes.
Today, extra ibuprofin for work. And a lot of tums or something, until I can get home, make dinner and try to finish the doll.