GRRR!

I was reluctantly plucking at a woolly cardy in Asda last night after English class, chucking it into a basket with another top equally as reluctantly dropped in, but it's getting cooler now and the art studio's temperature fluctuates a tad.
So I wandered scowling towards the fitting rooms to try on the cheap and somewhat nasty sheep by product that was my only vague option for attire, when an employee mentioned that their fitting rooms were closed.
Poxy place!
24 hour, but you can't try on clothes.
"Oh right then," I huffed as I dropped the basket from waist height onto the floor right there, and grabbing a packet of socks I flounced off.

I might have over reacted.

Pet My Quim.

I drove past a pub this evening and happened to notice its name.
The Spread Eagle.

I mean really!

My english tutor commented that all the input/noise from the class was coming from my direction as she asked what was up with a few of the ladies sat at the back all quiet. I'm thinking I should probably tone down the answers a little, and the questions. I feel like a bit of a teacher's pet by accident. But with only six people in a class, and the tutor hovering over the meaning behind this or that line and silence throughout the room broken only by quim squirming, then I kinda want to shout up. I'm already holding back, but perhaps i should just shut it all together. I can be an insuferable known it all sometimes. Not because i'm crap, but because I can be highly competative.

Belting night out...

I went out clubbing last night with my brother and you'll never guess what happened.

I only got asked my age on the door by the bouncers!
"You what? I'm thirty!"

Very amusing. Possibly the highlight of the entire night.
I think it was the incredibly beltesque short skirt I was wearing. If I span too much there was buttock flashing, and a hip wiggle resulted in much fun swaying of skirt layers.
Right.
Raymond Carver to read before English class tomorrow. Oh and a lino print to carve out. I'd better get on.

PoohBear's brown package.

An actual freelance textiles artist, training to become a teacher, looked through my work yesterday and asked me whether I've considered being a freelance illustrator.

How cool is that?

She was very matter of fact, giving me tips like getting an agent, but also warning me how discriminatory it is in the field when people find out you are a mother.

It's weird to have professionals talk to you as if becoming something that's a bit of a dream to you is the most natural and obvious thing in the world to them.
"Oh yes, this is good. Have you thought of becoming a freelance illustrator at all?"

Does a bear shit in the woods?

My man is coming to stay from tonight, and things are going to become a little campingesque as I have no bedrooms yet due to delayed plumber bastards.
I can't wait to see him.
I'm like a small child in a car on the way to the seaside.
With less pant wetting.
Now I'm off to take some before shots of the upstairs rooms!

Woot... as they used to say

Je suis... online.
Now I'm not actually living at my own home, so the fact that I can smurf from there is somewhat cruel, but at least it's sorted for the future!

Now then.
The ladies at my eng lit course are an eclectic bunch, as you would expect. And most of them seem to know each other from the AS class.
There's another girl who I seemed to 'bond' with a bit last time who is new to the group. One late fourties lady seems to know everything and has pink tufts in her blond hair. There's one who sort of scares me. She has a strangly nodding head and piercing gaze. There's the trendy one, who turned up in a cute african style long dress over jeans, something i keep meaning to try myself but never will. A couple more fill out the numbers.. but fuck knows who they are. We didn't get a 'getting to know you' session.
Then there's the tutor herself. A really scatty short sticatto woman who seems stern, but fair. Not the happy laughing class that my AS was like however.
I do know what I'm talking about there though. Something that suprised me a little last Monday. Even though they've all read this and that and know the other, I'm the one who answers questions on text, asks questions, etc.
Go me, heh.
Although why is reading aloud so nerve wracking?

There's one bloke in my art course who I seem to get on with more than others, although they are all actually really good people. Even the slightly homophobic one with printing issues. It's not his fault, he was raised that way. The other guy and I are the only adults now, as another woman dropped out, so we often can be seen rolling our eyes at the 'kids' in accomodating fashions, and we both have 'Carry On Camping' esque minds.
Now i must dash.
I have a lino print to chizzel out and a boyfriend to pester on the phone.

Smokin'

I actually 'lost time' last night while my boyfriend and I shared many intimate moments together. For like three hours or something!

Then I spazzed out and dry retched in a sink whilst being unale to catch my breath.
I don't thing it was the most attractive look ever.

This morning I woke up with a large carpet burn on my spine, a touch of a hangover and I'm walking like John Wayne.

My Name Is Not Lawrence Lewelyn Bowen

Why did I think I could pull off a deep purple 'signiture' fireplace wall?
WHYyyyyyyyyyyyyy?

I shall be attacking said eyesore with Buttermilk emulsion once the rather large lumps of debris have been removed from the upstairs. Two beds in the process of becoming three. In hopefully as many weeks. Fingers crossed.
Meanwhile, me and mine are back at Mums for overnighters. It's um... cosy!
Brother had his tonsils out, but has currently taken a turn for the worst and is back at A&E for a double check as I type.
Um.
College, despite all upheaval and madness, is going remarkably well. Eng lit evening course less so. The atmos is nothing like my last course, and the other four ladies attending are a touch... 'eh?'
Plus I was told that because I've changed examination boards my previous AS might not even count. My mouth dropped at the time. A years worth of slogging my guts out for nothing I hear you cry? Oh yay. But fret not, because apparently I can do the AS all over again alongside my A2.
Yeah.
Right.
Kiss my puckered pink one.

BT is still having problems with my phone line. Virgin are telling me there is still a 'delay'. If I should ever meet Richard Branson I will not be held responsible for my actions. I wouldn't mind but i actually have a LOT of art to research and no time to use the college's LRC suite. Am currently on mother's pc again, but not for long.

Sigh.
I could use a slice of normality sometime soon. Not that likely though.

Good Grief

I'm an old behatch.
I turned 30 yesterday (thank you Creepy dear x).

Well!
Not a great deal I feel like adding to that right now. I'm sure i'll come out with something incredibly witty as the week rolls on and I get used to 'approaching forty'.
Or i'll ignore it and pretend it's going away.
I got some lovely presents from family and my other half. All very thoughtful, and I kinda want to keep them private so i'll not say what.
I've a decorator coming round on Monday to strip the god awful wallpaper from poor walls that are to be my bedroom. He'll be spending three days working for me on various things in the house that I either can't or won't do. Lovely man too. One of those salt of the earth types. Bit like my neighbour. Ooo i should take before and after pictures! I've bought all the paint today too.

Thursday night was the first night i have been able to feel 'at home' in my new house. And it was because my man was there, the music was playing, and the candles were lit. Repeatedly! Everything suddenly seemed so calm and 'good'. My guy does that to me. Makes me feel really REALLY peaceful. As though nothing in the world will go wrong. It's more than feeling happy.
Friday night, my birthday night, was spent wonderfully. Chinese take out, candles, wine, boyfriend, cuddles, and a cult movie Big Trouble In Little China.
Perfect.
His tranquility stays with me for awhile too. Even after he's gone.

Walls and spaces

Oh and I almost forgot to add...
I found out my results yesterday.
68% for Psychology, 69% for Sociology and a handful of passes for my counseling courses. I'm pleased. I think pass mark was 50% for those interested, and anything between 60 - 70 is working at undergraduate level.

Art college is strange. Doing something for hours that seems so much like play. Pissing about drawing all day long and chatting aimlessly about toilets seems to be the main theme. The bad points? Well the slight boredom, but that will pass no doubt as we move onto harder things, and the expence. Nothing is provided by the college/government. I mean nothing. We were told yesterday that we'd have to pay for paper. 20p a sheet. And the temporary paints we are allowed to use whilst we stock up on our own and spend a small fortune are utter shite. I've seen playgroups with a better stock room.
Year two of this course sounds like fun though. Each student gets his or her own work space; this walled in little work bench where you cover it in your creations. We in year one year have our own locker without padlocks. Joy!
I have to go buy a toolbox now to put all the art shit in. Oh and some overalls. Or maybe a pair of loose dungerees with paint splatters all over them. Going for Artist Chic. I'm doing ceramics on Monday. Exciting!

In other house related news..
The 80 year old freak piss carpet has been removed and the floorboards are Detolled and waiting for a carpenter to come round and fix one of the offending blighters. Fingers crossed that's on Saturday. I currently have no bedroom however, and my boyfriend is coming up tonight to stay for two nights to help. He's not seen this place yet as we live quite far apart from each other (have i mentioned that before?) and I'm a little disappointed that I seem to be getting in more of a state as the week has gone on, but what can one do? Can't wait to see him though.

[Tumble weed floats past]

You never write, you never call. This is all so onesided. I've had enough.

So have you missed me?
Have you been waiting with bated breath for my triumphant, enigmatic and anti-climactic return? Yes me too.
Lets see.
I've moved house and started art college.
I have been the most continually tired i've ever been in my life.
I am an art genius.
That last bit might not be true, however I have had lots of lovely positive feedback from tutor and students alike. My banana was good enough to eat and my melon pips could be plucked from the page. However. My first project brief consists of the natural form as seen in fruit and has to be completed in five weeks. This includes filling (every space) an A4 sketch pad and having numerous large studies. Five weeks of fruit. I'm three days in and somewhat bored. Ah well. The other students are interesting. And apparantly i've already pulled what looks to be a snobbish 12 year old with social issues who probably still gets Mummy to wipe his ring piece for him. Go me.
I have much to write, mostly about my new students, but alas i'm on borrowed time. (Chicken curry is ready and this is Mums pc).
Still no sky, nor internet connection at mine.
Oh and now i have no bedroom carpet as the 80 year old skank ho who lived there before me pissed all over it and soaked through to the underlay. I finally realised why i couldn't stand my bedroom's smell, even after being carpet shampooed by professionals and am taking steps. I have so much gloss work to do it's frightening.
Also, I want my bedroom to have a moroccan feel to it with rich royal dark purples and reds, and am thinking a deep purple painted wood floor. Mother however is rather scared of my bold ideas and keeps looking at me in alarm. It's my first house that's solely mine to do with as i like, so I might just have to go a little .... arty!