The process of self discovery

I always have these great aspirations of being an artiste and I'm always looking for the perfect artistic outlet. I've tried lots of things over the years.

I went through a beading phase and spent a hundred or so dollars on beads and supplies to make a whole crapload of necklaces that I never wore or wore only once. Well that didn't satisfy the itch so I moved on to knitting and 5 years ago started to knit a sweater while my friend Simone was pregnant with her first baby, to be a gift for said baby if the baby was a girl. Simone actually has 3 daughters now and the dang sweater still isn't finished. Then I got this really fantastic, super-great idea that I was going to scrapbook. I spent several hundred dollars on supplies, did 3 pages of a scrapbook and well....scrapped it. Then I decided that I wanted to do pottery and was actually looking at prices of kilns and imagining how my pottery would make me rich, because of course it would be so amazing, when I realized I didn't know clay from glaze and the nights the beginners class was offered didn't work for me.

Now this is not a story of how I start lots of things and don't finish...although it could be. Because I really do that alot. It's kind of one of my pet peeves about myself. No, it is not that kind of story. This is a story of self discovery.

See, I have finally figured out what it is I want to do. After much careful thought and earnest deliberation I have settled on being an incredibly famous painter whose work sells for zillions of dollars. I will have my apartment in Paris and my house in Provence or Tuscany plus my little cottage on the Cape. Any Cape. I will be a chef extroadinaire and live on pasta, fruit, cheeses, breads, olives, and red wine. In this life I imagine somehow I am thinner than in reality despite all the carbs I will apparently be eating. I walk around my gorgeous gardens in barefeet and wear simple flowing linen clothing. Except when I'm painting and then I'll wear jeans with holes in the knee and simple cotton t-shirts. My hair will be pulled back in a messy yet becoming ponytail which strangely enough has become curly. It must be all the salty sea air...Anyway. All of this will provide me with wonderful inspiration for my world famous paintings and keep me in the lifestyle which I am accustomed too. Or would be accustomed to if I had zillions of dollars.

This life is so close to being mine. I just have one itsy bitsy, teeny tiny problem. I don't know how to paint. Or draw. Which is why I signed up for this drawing class. I did six 3 hour classes. 3 classes of pencil, one of ink, one of pastel, and one of pencil crayons. I hadn't done any kind of art or drawing course since oh Grade 8 I think so I really learned alot and it was very beneficial. And I think I'm that much closer to the life (and weight) of my dreams. I just have one itsy bitsy, teeny tiny problem.

I don't really like to draw. It takes so bloody long to do anything!!! I do not have the time or the patience to sit for hours and hours trying to get the shading, the shadows, the lines just right. I want to whip it off in 20 minutes and move on. I found I got so irritated and agitated by the process that I spent alot of time doing neck and shoulder rolls. I would have preferred screaming. The "twitchiness" I felt made me approach the whole thing with a sort of "good enough" attitude. Then after each exercise we'd walk around and look at everyone's work and I'd sigh about mine. If only I could shade like her. If only my texture was as nice as his. If only I cared more about making that stupid bloody orange rind look right.

Unfortunately, I just don't care. Sadly, that ideal life (and weight) is slipping away. I need a new plan to be rich and famous. Maybe I should try abstract art instead...Yes. I can see it now. I'll have a studio apartment in New York in the Village. I'll eat organic food and only drink fair trade coffee. I'll wear ballet flats and black smocks with skinny jeans...