Gift horses

Photo of me by Sarah Gzesh

My organizational systems are many many lists, and many many piles. Sub folders within folders within folders. That doesn't mean it's not usually just chaos, but I get a kick out of cleaning and organizing every once in awhile (otherwise I feel like a mess) and it's springtime so... yea. Piles and folders and sub-piles and boxes and bins and ...

there are still giant piles of crap, everywhere.

I have a room that we affectionately have named, "The Room of Shit." It's a small, one window room off of our giant bedroom. And it is full of shit. We have no closets in our apartment (we have one actually, one was built since moving in) so it's somewhat justified. You have to store your crap somewhere... and if that somewhere happens to be a completely disregarded side room that everyone keeps telling you should either be your studio or a walk in closet... (you try getting your husband to challenge that chaotic catastrophe and then let's talk,)... well, it'll happen someday. One big giant pile going on one ever-growing list.

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Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Right? I thought of this several times today as the complaints rolled in from theater subscribers (meaning, those who purchase season tickets) for this plays "Free Lunch" day. How can you possibly justify complaining about something given to you? It's not entitled to you, it's a perk, a generous offer. You don't have to participate and you sure as hell don't have to like it. No cookies? Aw, I feel so bad for you! Really I do.

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Also, it's frustrating as hell not being able to make my website absolutely exactly how I want it and have everyone and their mom tell me what they don't like about it. Do you realize I have no choice? Dad, do you realize I do not know how to program a custom website? Sure, I can throw together some graphics, but the internet has progressed so fucking far from when I was learning html and Dreamweaver - Flash even - that the technological world has passed me by. Luckily my father-in-law has been gracious enough to help me out, though I barely understand and comprehend the parameters which within I need to design or think about layout. Archaic, and maybe not the best way, but I'll take what I can get. Someday I'll be able to pay someone or trade someone for the necessary skills to have a kick-ass custom website displaying my work and life in the most perfect, appealing way - but for now I literally have what I have and that's going to have to be okay. (Dad.) I'm lucky I have one at all. I'm lucky I have help. Don't look a gift horse... right?

Sigh. All I want to do is paint. And put on crazy spectacles of awesomeness - the kind that happen on stage, not on your face.