If you need me in the next month and a half, I’ll be here. At my house. Worrying about EMPs (Electromagnetic Pulses), finally reading The Hunger Games, and designing an underground fortress.
And also, getting ready for Dustbowl Arts Market–because I totally got accepted!
I don’t know if it’s something to be excited or proud about, but for a measly artist like me, it’s a big deal, because I know they received a lot of applications. I didn’t have a website or even an Etsy store–I turned in my paperwork with a couple crappy printoffs of a few of my paintings. I stressed over how unpolished and unprofessional my application seemed. But I got in!
And so now, I’m going into a Pollock-like frenzy. I’ve already warned a few friends that I won’t shower and my kids may or may not eat cereal for every meal until the end of April. I’ll be parked at my kitchen table, painting away.
And loving it.
I might even be busy enough to distract myself from my inevitable doom, when Iran teams up with Mexican drug cartels to take down the US by use of EMPs and hand-t0-hand combat. Technology will be useless and we’ll have to rely on wits and brute strength, which, let’s face it–are underused in this country due to Google and mass production of goods. An out-of-shape, mediocre painter who’s sometimes funny is bound to be killed off within the first year of the takeover. My husband, who hasn’t changed a bit since his early twenties, will live forever.
I’d learn to use a bow and arrow, but I’d probably kill myself in the process. I could worry about the end of the world, but instead, I will paint. I will leave behind my artwork I did for the Dustbowl, which will be ironic since Oklahoma will revert back to just that. My kids will burn canvas to stay warm. Thank goodness I will have taught them how to deal with hunger, starting yesterday.
Painting–the gift that keeps on giving.
But if you’re not buying into all my conspiracy theories and happen to be free (and not dead!) on Arpril 28th, stop over in Norman for the Music Fest and Dustbowl Arts Market. Support my coping mechanism and come see me at my booth. I might be a paranoid freak in real life but I paint only colorful, happy things.
Cheyenne just threatened to delete all my fight-the-system documentaries off of the Netflix instant queue. And she hid The Hunger Games from me.
She will be sorry.