Physically, I'm ill from lack of sleep coupled with general rushing around. Mentally, I feel 100% better, for the simple reason that when I'm working on glass there's no room in my head for thoughts of anything BUT the glass. I don't think of people who hurt me in the past. I don't think about annoying stuff people do or say or e-mail or post (except maybe for the extremely annoying natterings of the lady two torches down who wouldn't shaddap about her husband's agency job -- I'd love these classes so much more if they didn't come with chattering classmates when I'm trying to work and learn). I think about what I'm doing, and only what I'm doing. Plus, what they say about glass workshops is true. Even the trash is beautiful to be around, all colors and light.
It reminded me that glass was my first love, like some beautiful guy in a band that you crush on when you're 17 and then you don't see that band for a while and then you do, and you see him again and yer heart turns over and you go Yep, still beautiful. (Are there any Beautiful Guys in bands anymore? I personally don't think shaved heads and chin pubes are the least bit lovely. But not to get off the subject.)
Because the joint where I study metal doesn't have a regular glass course (this is one of several reasons I am increasingly annoyed at said institution, but I'm kinda stuck with it because it's the Only Game in Town and frankly given my age and sitch I'm lucky to have a place to regularly study at all), I have to find a place to learn more glass. This prolly won't happen till I'm done or almost done with the metalworking credit courses, but seeing as how I'm three from the end there, that's not long. And not a moment too soon cuz the main teacher just announced she's quitting to go back to school, and the building might be moving down into that crap 'hood by the new stadium, which is where the local glass school used to be and which is why I didn't go there in the first place, because I wasn't going to drive or walk from a subway into that area especially at night.
Additionally, I have to figure out about getting studio space somewhere. My home is not an option.
It's good to have productive things to think about and do. It's also good to realize that this is my form of meditation. I am always looking to de-stress, but I have always had a problem with meditation and meditative prayer, for as long as I can remember. I don't find it that peaceful. I can't get distractions out of my head and it's mostly just boring. I know to some extent it's a learned art but maybe it's more suited to people who don't have such a damn tornado in their minds all the time. The ones who can routinely sit in front of a TV or a movie for 3+ hours and just watch it and be entertained without feeling like they're wasting away their existence on the planet. (Speaking of which, the Harry Potter mania needs to end now, it needed to end yesterday, and people who get their kicks reading and writing stories about every character in Harry Potter or even the actors from the movie all having sex with each other have way different hormones than yours truly. Way to ruin what might otherwise be a good story. No, I'm not frigid (does that even need to be said at this point?) or even menopausal yet, sez my doctor. I'd just rather be a monk doodling gold embellishment onto a manuscript someplace than be one of these 40-year-old wimmen posting "pant pant pant GARY OLDMAN is SOOO HOTTTT!!" Ugh. Just ugh.)
Speaking of such sto0pid stuff, I didn't look at EllJay for most of this week. When I did, nuthin' had changed. My friends are still here (I think; I don't check who's dropped or added except once every six months now, cuz I decided I don't give that much of a damn to check every week or month anymore). And the usual annoying journals where people post endlessly about their life ruts, their fantastic boyfriends, politics (I wish someone would start a party for Apathy or Apoliticism, I'd join), and general wank are still going. It takes me about 15 minutes on here to find something asinine or buggy, which is one reason I often think I'd be happier not coming 'round here as much. This week I discovered yet another Journal of Someone I Don't Know At All with a post wanking about me. Yeah, I know for sure it was about me, because of the specific facts being discussed. I remember asking once about this person on a list after I saw their handle bidding on eBay; the silence in response to me was roaringly deafening. I love how people I've never spoken to or e-mailed with or had any truck with and I don't even know who they are think they know my motivations. This has happened with every group I've ever joined. It's funny and sad at the same time. It doesn't matter because I don't plan on ever going beyond surface-friendly with them or the huge groups of people who run like that, so they will never know they're wrong, and can happily ascribe to me emotions I never had and motives I totally lacked, for their own entertainment and to feel better about what losers they are in some ways.
Those aren't the kind of people I want to be with anyway. Several of us have talked about Heedfest being a transformative experience for ourselves. In my case that was being reassured that most band and bandfan people are cool to be around, and that people are basically good at heart. These are things I need to remember, to bury the more-than-one bad apples that otherwise spoil my whole bunch.