Jesus, what a shit show.
I can’t put together cohesive thoughts right now but there are some things that are on my mind.
My friend (and Jill Stein voter … that’s right, I’m talking to you) sent me a very useful 5 Point Morning After Plan by Michael Moore.
Give it a read, it helped me. Thanks J and I’m still pissed at you.
Jenny Lawson, AKA The Bloggess, posted this less useful (in a political sense) but emotionally helpful nonetheless, piece.
What spoke to me the most was this sentence, “Practice self-care. Take a walk. Do some art. Sit in the grass and drink a booze-slushie. Read a book. Watch Doctor Who. Avoid the internet when it gets to be too much.”
Okay, so I realize that this advice only helps those who are white enough (as I realize I am), wealthy enough, and in a privileged enough position that these little things can make our bad feels go away.
I really don’t think a booze-slushie will help the poor kids who are terrified that they might get deported, or the woman who gets raped but can’t get a legal abortion because Trump wants to overturn Roe v. Wade, or the LBGT community that might have their rights stripped. I get that.
But here I am, doing the things to make myself feel better.
Do I feel better? No. But I am distracted. My particular variety of self-care involves walking with Tabby, sculpting a rabbit head, I’m not drinking because I don’t see how a hangover is going to make me feel better, and I’m reading Kafka On The Shore which is amazing AF. I fucking love Haruki Murakami.
I’m watching Deadpool and Westworld. (Dad, if you haven’t seen Deadpool, see it tonight. It’s really great.) And I’m staying off the internet. I’m on day 2 of my social media break and it’s a good thing. I managed to pull the plug on myself after almost destroying only one friendship because I was prone to venting in inappropriate places. Luckily she gets it.
The only thing I have the urge to post on social media is pictures of my latest art project because it feels good to have someone say, “Hey, that looks great,” since Loony is more of a critic than a cheerleader. I can count on social media for the strokes.
Since I blew my wad in ceramics this session with a 36-piece table setting for My Parasitic Twin, I felt like I had to try something different and not kiln busting in its scope. My instructor – the Outlaw Josie Parker – is big on sculpting. I’m into functional pieces but I watch all her demonstrations.
Recently she demoed how to make a mask to hang on the wall. I like all her demos but I rarely ever run with them but this time I was like, why not. I decided to make a rabbit. I have no idea why. I searched the internet for some inspiration and found this …
I started working away and was feeling pretty good about this version …
… but it’s actually kind of hideous and looks nothing like a rabbit but that’s what’s so fun about ceramics. As long as you don’t let it dry out, you can keep playing with it until it feels right while looking at pictures of cute rabbits on the internet.
I think I changed the eyes at least ten times but I now have this …
It’s not exactly rabbit like. At one point I didn’t bother with photos and just sculpted it in a way that pleased me even though the eyes are too close together, the ears are too far apart, and the eyebrows too developed … for a rabbit.
It’s a rabbit-cat-dog thing and while I worked on it I didn’t feel crushed by the events of the last 48 hours. It’s really just therapy. Maybe I’ll call him Doc.
My mother-in-law hovered over my shoulder the entire day as I worked on it. She kept asking me, “Are you still working on that? When are you going to be done?”
The point isn’t finishing. The point is the process which is extremely distracting, which I like. I don’t think Loony likes it. The only thing he’s had to say about it is, “Are you referencing any actual rabbits,” and when I commented the eyes are too close together he very helpfully offered to smash it between the eyes with his fist.
I know he was trying to be funny but I’m really not into glib right now. It made me feel like crying. We are a million miles apart and having a hard time connecting. He is defaulting to irreverent humor and sarcasm which feels abrasive and ugly when what I need is gentle and loving. I know he’s doing the best he can.
And since another month has gone by it’s time to post my hair growing progress because who gives a shit.
I cut off the back of it off before it turned into a mullet and it appears to have grown about an inch but I don’t look happy because Donald Trump is the president elect despite not having won the popular vote and hey, it’s just stupid hair.