February 7, 2015

I love Mondays

December 2014

It's time to wake up the little boy, and for the girl to get home blurry and spent from skating. I drew for the two hour break instead of doing work or hunkering down on the couch. There's not much left for blogging. That's the story nowadays. No time for blogging. No time. No time in sight. When I decided to have a career instead of a job, and a family to boot, I knew there wouldn't be much left over. February in the Canadian grey might not be the most clear-sighted time to mull over my difficulties. So mostly, things are grim.

Except for Monday! Jealously, possessively, I protect Monday evening from everything. From guilt (I brush baby teeth and ferret out pyjamas, pack up tomorrow's snack bags, before abandoning my man to the rest of it). From fatigue ("art night chocolate"). From futility (I'm going to do it, even if it will never get me anywhere).

The other reason I don't blog much anymore is that my dad disowned me a few years ago. It's a story with parts I wouldn't share out of respect for his privacy, but funnily enough we're estranged because he feels I didn't respect his privacy enough. Ever since then blogging has seemed more and more threatening. On one hand, I have the most respect for people who put themselves out there, warts and all. On the other hand, it's awful when people are upset about what you say, and punish you for it.

I painted the purse painting in December and I finished another version of it last week (more on the latter). These two paintings are a year in the making.





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