Today I decided it was time to get back to the life I was meant to lead, which is to say, not on the verge of puking every 10 minutes when I think about what a failure I am. I woke up at 1 AM last night yelling "shit!" because I forgot to close my venting kiln lid at 11 PM. (A venting kiln is a kiln that is firing and you keep the lid cracked for 3 hours or so to vent out the fumes-- I keep it cracked until the kiln is at 1000 degrees). As I walked down the street to my studio, I looked at the stars and felt the warm air and begged with god. "Cut me a fucking break" is what I actually said. I know I've been saying "fuck" a lot in the last few posts, and maybe that offends some people, but I hope not. Because it truly is one of my favorite swear words.
This morning I slept in. I had a horrible dream right before I woke up that I was on a cross-country forced march with a bunch of people and one of my ex-boyfriends. We were kind of together but he brought along his new girlfriend on the forced march. They were all happy; I was miserable. It was one of those dreams where I was so mad I had to finish the dream in my head after I woke up, because naturally I woke up just as I was about to punch him in the face.
I felt better after I slept in and told Andrew about the dream. I got up, ate some dry toast, (still nauseous) and went to the studio. I immediately got a check-in call from my man Hector at the factory, which gave me a shred of hope that I will not go down in flames. I had already decided that the day would be devoted to throwing. No orders, just getting centered with the clay. I threw a bunch of small bowls which will be transformed into flowers, a few vases that will be prototypes for a new design that has been laying on my brain, a bunch of random cups because I felt like it, and massive platter that measured 16" across and took 10 pounds of clay. I really want to start throwing huge stuff, no more dainty little things.
.... okay, some dainty things but gigantic stuff too.
I went home around noon and read some of my current book, choked down some lunch (still pukey), then fell asleep. When I woke up I called my health club on a whim and sure enough, they had an open massage appointment in 30 minutes. I love my health club, I adore my health club. I will tell you about my trainer Coco, one day, because she is a serious piece of work. I jumped on my bicycle and pedaled down to Club One, where Tammy gave me the most loving 1-hour neck massage I ever received from a stranger, and verbally reminded me that all will be well. After I got back to the studio, I had a few times where I had a surge of panic and horrible thoughts about my future, but then realized how boring that was and threw some more pots.