A Post Where We Discover That Kara Is, In Fact, Crazy

7:55 a.m.

Diet Cherry Coke? DELICIOUS.

In other news...I've been consuming too much diet soda. Diet Cherry Coke before bed? Means Kara lays awake for waaaaay too long worrying about 1) painting 2) the art fair 3) the mat I have to cut this morning at work 4) why is it so windy? Is my geranium going to blow over? Should I go out there and check it? But if I get out of bed I'll be even more awake but it's so windy and I'd hate for it to die because of my cruel neglect! 5) my menstrual cycle and 6) why is the dog FARTING so much?

I feel very frantic and stressed this morning, much as I have every morning this week. I told myself it is okay to sit down and vent on my blog, so that is what I am doing.

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THE VENTING:

I suppose lately I've been too caffeinated and I realized that oh-crap-it's-July-already and I've accomplished LITTLE on my summer goal list. For instance, I'm probably only able to run comfortably for .2354234 miles, instead of five. And I've only read half of a book. Instead of five. And I haven't written anything yet, unless you count frantic blog posts about nothing. I did finish the big painting, and I've started some more paintings, but I'm worrying quite a bit about this art fair. Another list of worries? Why, yes! I'm worried that 1) I'm a sell-out by entering an art fair 2) I won't sell anything and I will be humiliated 3) my ghetto 'booth' will look pathetic next to the other booths 4) I won't have enough to sell and it will look even more ghetto and 5) I won't sell anything.

I'm getting ready to order some folding tables and table-top easels, and I'm fighting the money-spending-guilt by reminding myself that they are an investment and I will use them repeatedly blah blah blah. I've also gotten myself a cash box and a receipt book (positive thinking!) The guilt stems from the fear that I won't sell anything and I won't break even. I am slightly comforted that I'm saving money by not buying a presentation wall. They apparently cost hundreds or even thousands of dollars, so my spending guilt should just DIE, already.

D-i-e.

Why do I feel so overwhelmed by work and art and trying to keep the house clean? Why do I feel so guilty that I am not in my studio right this instant producing genius work? Why do I feel so guilty that I haven't read more books this summer, and that Kara you SERIOUSLY need to mail back that Netflix movie, and that the flower beds REALLY need weeding, and the laundry is never done? (You'd think a two-person household would not produce mountains of laundry, but you forget about the three fat/ungrateful/disgustingly shedding pets we house. I am constantly laundering items due to gross amounts of embedded pet fur. I love you, dryer lint collector. I LOVE YOU.) I don't know. But I do. I feel overwhelmed. This brings on a subtle feeling of inadequacy, mixed with a fear that I would be an incompetent parent because obviously if the dog hair stresses me out so much I would be the worst. mother. ever.

When I drink Diet Coke I sort of feel like there's just not enough time, not enough time! And I go on a sort of Jessie Spano rampage in my head and then it's okay. I sort of like it.

(Have you ever noticed how crazy I am? Yes? Oh good, then I don't have to pretend.)

And then tack on the concern that I need to lose those last two pounds from my parents' visit. This concern is fairly strong, strong enough to make me obsess over whether or not I am developing a double-chin (I am pretty sure I am NOT, but then again, I am crazy and will think it sometimes anyway) but apparently not strong enough to keep me from eating Bryer's All Natural Vanilla Bean ice cream, also left over from my parents' visit.

And then there's the stress over my cycle. Because, seriously, no period in three months? STRESSFUL. Random spotting EVERY DAY for said three months shouldn't count. Cramps EVERY DAY for three months also is unfair. Unfair, unfair. The crankiness and random crying because I am afraid the dog doesn't like me anymore? RIDICULOUS. Hey, remember that time I went six months without a period and felt HORRIBLE the ENTIRE TIME? I do.

Ungggggggggh.

But, really, I do believe the stress and craziness can largely be attributed to my wayward uterus.

Really!

Also, the USB port on my laptop fell out. Or in. Which means I no longer have internet. And the keyboard stopped working almost entirely. As did the mouse pad. Also it frequently fails to recognize it has a power source. Also it crashes randomly. This makes it super hard to unwind by reading random Wikipedia articles on the couch.

Anything else I can complain about? Anything? No?

Thank goodness.
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I would like to say, that having afternoons for art is really very, very, very good. I finished the biggest painting I've every painted. Exciting! And I'd also like to say that I love the pets so much, even if I wished they had been shaved at the beginning of the summer, and even if that noise Monk makes when he licks his feet makes me want to throw up. They are still good pets.

And also I'd like to say that I love Justin and he is very patient. And I am very lucky. And he doesn't notice the two pounds at all. And watching Harvey Birdman Attorney at Law with him is one of the best. things. ever. Justin is rad.

I'd also like to say that I love my life, and I am happy, and I am crazy-but-good. And that I can devote July to art and August to writing/reading, because August is summer too. And that it doesn't matter if I sell that much, because showing is GOOD FOR ME. So is venting.

How refreshing!

Love,
black sheep