How to not be a creative genius

In my head I’m this amazing artist. I often fantasize that people will see me and think, “wow, look at her, she is clearly a creative genius!” They will recognize my design brilliance while I am browsing in Home Depot. And experience gut clenching bouts of envy when they see me shopping for art supplies at Michaels.

In my head, I’m like this girl:

How fucking rad is she, in her cowboy boots and tattoos? She is clearly cool and doesn’t need to take shit from anyone. Sure, she might only eat every other day and probably smokes which I do think is totally gross. But to recap: totally awesome coolness.

In reality, here’s what I really look like when I paint:

Es un disastre!

Everything turns into some shade of diarrhea brown and I end up smushing all the paint together. That is, when I even get around to the actual painting.

I promised myself I would paint today. And here’s how it’s going so far…

8:30 am – wake up

9:00 am – search the house for batteries for my daughter’s remote control car

9:30 am – clean out the drawers in son’s room so he can put away his clean clothes

10:00 am –  clean up dog poo

10:30 am – answer 1000 questions from daughter

11:00 am – think about painting

11:30 am – write blog about what a sucky artist I really am

So you see, not so much. All show and no glow. And talk and no walk. All something and no…. well you get the picture. I’m tired of fucking rhyming. It’s hard to be creative when there’s so many other stupid things that have to get done. And everyone is watching. The kids are watching me write this blog. (What’d you just write? What did you say?) They watch me prep my materials and then suddenly it’s all about them again. (I want to paint. What do I get to paint? Mommy help me paint!) Selfish little buggers the children are. Like they need to be fed and entertained or something.

Geesh.

Hmm, I think the fish tank needs cleaning.

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