Pandora's Box

The art show was fun and interesting. I'm always inspired by seeing other people's creative work.

The morning before the show, I woke up from a terrible dream. I dreamt that I was laying down and these chickens that had been nice to me earlier suddenly turned on me. They pulled on my hair with their beaks and they were suffocating me. I woke myself up because I felt I couldn't breathe.

There may be some sybolism with the fact that C wanted a farm and wanted chickens and I didn't. But I am also curious that the chickens were friendly and then turned on me. I don't think that part is necessarily about C. Hmmmm... but maybe. I felt really shut out by her.

Immediately upon waking from the chicken dream, I pulled out a new piece of plywood to paint on. This piece is an abstract of my feelings these days. It's been a rather physical experience. Last night after the art show, I nearly emptied one tube of paint onto the board then let it start to dry overnight. The act of squeezing a ton of paint out of the tube felt very cathartic.

When I woke up this morning, I tore the semi-dried paint open with my bare hands. The outside had crusted over, but the paint inside was still wet. Then tonight, still feeling full of rage, I spit into one of the bowls of my pallette and mixed my saliva in with paint. I wanted to spit on the actual painting, but I knew it wouldn't leave a sufficient mark for how I was feeling.

But what am I angry about?

Well, let's just say it's not just anger towards those chickens! ;-)