Before work today, had a little tiff. And this time, it wasn't with the dog.
The tiff was about how emotional I've been lately, what with the election and the amount of projects I have on my studio table with deadlines coming up, and all.
Now, you know what can happen when you tell a woman who's on a hormone rush that she's being a tad emotional, right? So, yeah, I burst into tears.
Here's the deal: it wasn't just the political ups and downs, it was also the fact that in my little hamlet, there has been a recent spate of race-related shootings. (And a hamlet is a town without a church, so I lied. My town isn't a hamlet, it's a full kalua pig, with more churches than Starbucks.) In any case, it freaks me out.
Oh, yes. I'm your typical girl from the now-vanishing middle-class who is fine with watching CSI, but doesn't want to know such violence is real and can be visited upon her when she's cursing and flipping someone off on the highway.
Well, I dried my tears and went to the office, and what was I greeted with but a lovely email from a long-distance friend, asking about going to an art class while she's in town. How fab! And now I feel marvelous! Not only will she be in the general vicinity, but there may be a day of arting together! So, see? See how art heals? See how art restores hope?
Her son may be here so I'll have to stop cursing for a day or two.
It's always something.
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