Dear Diary: Paint and Sip It

paint and sip it shutterstock_109143746

Thursday…

Dear Diary,

Can’t wait to go out tonight with the ladies! So excited to see them and get out from under the job search. Whoo-hoo!

Friday…

Dear Diary,

This thing is so fucking ugly. I hate seascapes with sand dunes. Why I agreed to meet up with a bunch of 20 nothings who wanted to “send me off” after I got canned is beyond me!!  I grew up by the beach where you parked and walked across 20 feet of sand before BOOM, ocean, so this crap with sea grass just sucks. No offense to you Nantucket lovers, but I want my beach public and with a good parking lot.

And the colors, all sorts of calming green and blue with some gold. You know what, I hate that. I hate making art that looks like the bathroom in my OBGYN’s office. Every time I look at that piece, I would think “Pee in a cup, pee in a cup”. That’s why I changed it to reds and pinks and purples. Because life is CHAOS and chaos is ART.

Every time I look at this piece I hate it more. I can taste the afterburn of the $10 bottle of pinot I sucked down one $8 glass at a time (really, that crappy bottle has 5 glasses in it?). I can feel the hangover coming on when I am in the same room as it.

I can feel the shock of my former co-workers who saw me so wasted that I could barely sit on my seat when we were painting. F* you, former co-workers. You may have a job, but you hate it. I said what was on my mind and told the truth. At the Christmas Party. To my boss. And her boss.

Every time I look at this piece of shit painting I think about how much it sucked to be at work with those people and that boss. That stumpy little woman who couldn’t say “snarky” without messing it up. The last day of being fake with people who thought my 40% was all I had.

I had more. Except you are the same people that think a paint and sip is ART.

So what if I don’t have a job. I have integrity. I don’t know what I am going to do next, but it for sure will have nothing to do with sipping and painting with you asshats.

What I do know is that this painting is getting tossed. I don’t need to look at it or see it. I never want to do another paint and sip bullshit expression of art ever again.  I never want to create a reminder of so much anger and sadness and put it on my wall as a talisman of shame.  I’m only going forward with my head held high, yeah, and spin it to say that my expression and rage cannot be contained to sea grass and cool ocean breezes.

Give me a paint and sip that does The Scream, and I am all in.

Kisses,

BL

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