The waiting game plus 10 strange but true facts about me.

Waiting is not my strong point. Patience is a virtue I don't possess. It irks me that many institutions and individuals don't work on my time scale which is NOW!

I get even more worked up when I'm given a time scale that is not adhered to. I personally never miss a deadline and invariably deliver early. When I say I'm going to do something I flipping well do it and I do it flipping well.

So, what am I waiting for, you ask, or maybe you don't but I'm going to tell you anyway. Firstly I'm still waiting for completion of the transfer of equity on my house, a process that was started months ago. I'm waiting for photos to be emailed so that I can start my next commission and time is of the essence on this one. I'm waiting for someone to collect and pay for a printing job I've done for them. I'm waiting for the Man to stop tinkering with his bike so we can go into town. I'm waiting for a divorce. I'm waiting to hear whether I can have a stand at The Portsoy Boat Festival. I'm waiting for a time slot to display my work in the local Wildlife Centre. I'm waiting for many other small things that would make a big difference.

None of this is earth shatteringly important but it's enough to leave me frustrated and tense. I realise that this is a common problem for many people and I know I just have to suck it up and continue to wait but I refuse to do it patiently.

Until these things come to pass I shall try to fill my time constructively.

In the meantime, to make this post more interesting, here are 10 strange but true facts about me:

1. I've waltzed with John Major before he bacame Prime Minister
2. I've kissed Chad Kroeger from Nickelback
3. I've shaken my tassles in public
4. J.J. Burnell, the base guitarist from The Stranglers, once jumped on my belly and made me fart!
5. I've scaled the barbed wire fence of a military establishment in order to stop myself being late home.
6. I've flashed my boobies at an Iron Maiden concert, then watched in fear with my parents as the performance was shown on Top of the Pops the following week.
7. I once had a job as a croupier
8. I've never broken a single bone in my body or been stung by a bee or wasp
9. I once impulse bought a 1979 VW Campervan off Ebay with my credit card
10. My arm span is a full 2 inches longer than my height which makes my ape ratio higher than the average human.

There are more but these are the only ones I can tell you ;-)

Too much information

So, yes, I'm trying to cheat a hangover today.

I'm not a big drinker although I have been in the past. These days my consumption is limited to the odd glass of wine through the week and maybe a couple at weekends. Last night a relaxed dinner with friends saw me having a wee bit more including a couple of whisky cocktails and a few rum and Dr Peppers.

Thankfully I didn't get leary or embarass myself, so 'the man' reassures me, and despite not going to bed until past 5am I'm not too shabby today. I don't have a headache and I don't have the urge to talk to Huey or Ralph on the the big white telephone. Yay! So far, so good.

I've held down some porridge and I've passed the burp test. (if you can give a good belch without feeling the need to blow chunks you're doing ok). On the downside, I did wake up this morning with really bad panda eyes, a face that looked very much like a bundle of wet washing and a mouth like a badger's bum. Mmm, attractive!

Now, after a shower and a lick of paint, I could almost pass for human to the untrained eye. The only giveaway is the trail of toxic green vapour that seems to be following me wherever I go. What can I say? It must be the dog!

Time for a cull

I'm going out tonight. Dinner with great friends at their house. I'm looking forward to it. I shall wear a skirt in honour of the occasion because I don't go out much and opportunities for femininity are few and far between these days. A dress would be too much, jeans would be adequate but I insist on wearing a skirt.

I realise that I have a wardrobe chock full of clothes that I will more than likely never wear again so it is time to take stock and clear out. For a start, I have at least half a dozen ball dresses. They are beautiful, they were expensive but they are now surplus to requirements. I have dozens of skimpy, glitzy tops that one simply cannot get away with at 37 despite still having the same figure, for the most part, that I had in my 20s. Gone are the days of heading out on the town for a boogie dolled up to the nines.

Don't get me wrong, I still love to dance. I'm one of these people that doesn't even need to have a drink inside me to bust some moves on the dancefloor and with the lighting the way it is in these places, wearing a foxy dress and some slap, no one can tell that I should really be at home in front of the TV with my cup of Horlicks and my one big slipper. However the lure of clubbing has waned and I realise that my options for dressing up are now limited to the odd dinner party and special occasion meal out. I wrack my brains to think of an activity I could adopt that would allow me this pleasure more frequently but there is nothing.

As I work from home and don't really interact with the public often there isn't even a reason to dress smartly on a daily basis. Despite this fact, I only have 3 pairs of jeans, a handful of T-shirts and a couple of jumpers which means I inevitably end up wearing the same clothes day after day. In fairness there is no room at present for a more casual wardrobe as there are too many shiny clothes taking up valuable space. Hence the desperate need to pare down my existence further. I may even have to tackle the shoe collection, although it brings me out in hives just thinking about it.

On a side note, 'the man' has 13 pairs of jeans and still ends up wearing tracksuit bottoms most of the time!

Rest assured though folks, I will be keeping the red dress!

Why I hate mornings.

Generally, I don't sleep well. I wake frequently, I have bizarre and sometimes distressing dreams. I drink tea last thing at night which means I have to get up to pee at about 3.30am and when I do go back to bed my skin itches because my circulation has boosted into life. All this means that, when I get up in the morning at 8am to get my boy to school, I'm not refreshed and therefore not at my best.

This morning was a classic example of why I should just stay in bed. My boy gets up, gets dressed and now, after much cajoling, makes his own breakfast. Most times he puts way too much milk in his cereal bowl so I have to pour the surplus off to keep for the next morning.

I like to keep the kitchen door closed so the the beasts do not start roaming the house making a nuisance of themselves. Jaziferous P. Wildebeest (Jasper Cat) likes to meaow loudly until he's allowed through to sleep on the dining room chairs, Charles Les Barleroux (Charlie Cat) likes to scratch at the carpet and The Squirrel (Dastan Dog) likes to whine until he gets into the bedroom. All very good reasons to keep them confined until I'm fully up and about.

When I got up today all the lights were on, all the doors were open,  the beast were roaming, the Boy was standing barefoot at the fridge just about to help himself to even more milk from the carton. As I walked into the kitchen the Boy shouted his warning of cat sick on the floor which he had just slipped in but not cleaned up and was complaining that he had rinsed his foot in the sink but it still smelled. I told him to go and get a baby wipe and give it a good wipe, take his pyjamas upstairs and get his socks and shoes on while I cleaned up the mess. Forgetting to remind him that, because of our bad drainage, wipes were not to be put down the toilet I had to rush through when I heard the flush to fish out said wipe with my bare hands!

Off he went upstairs then, pyjamas in hand, to do the tasks I'd asked of him while his breakfast sat on the table going soggy. Several, and I mean way too many, minutes later I found him sat upstairs watching television, sockless and shoeless. At this point I'm getting tetchy so down he comes and starts to tuck into his cereal while I put the dog outside for a pee. Next thing I know, the Squirrel is barking manically at next door's cat so I try to call him in. No response from the usually fairly obedient mutt, barking continues which sounds much like a cockerel crowing. I go to try and grab him, he runs away, I go round the other way, he runs away again. I have to make a beeline across the grass, stepping in shit as I do, the Squirrel runs away! Eventually after a bit more chasing some hushed expletives he runs in the house and straight to his bed.

I'm just cleaning the dog excrement off my slipper as the doorbell rings loudly, the Boy's arch enemy (a girl) is at the door and wants to walk to school with him. I usher my Boy out the door with his packed lunch and breathe a deep sigh of relief, it's his problem now. I go back to bed with a tense jaw and shoulders and a furrowed brow. Just as I'm winding down enough to possibly catch a few more zeds, the meaowing starts. Jasper Cat is still roaming and has decided he no longer wants to be in the dining room, he wants to be in the kitchen. I ignore him and eventually the Man gets up and puts him back in the kitchen.

This is why I am not a morning person.

Where not to put fingers and other such things!

Some of you may already be familiar with the amusing yet often awkward conversations I have with my nearly 10 year old son usually at the dinner table but tonight's conversation really took the biscuit.

Don't ask me how we got round to this topic as I genuinely can't (or don't want to) remember.

The first thing I do remember was 'The Man' telling a story of a young boy at his school having to be rushed to hospital after having got a ring stuck on his 'little man'. Now, the whys and wherefores of this happening at school of all places are beyond me but the conversation that then ensued between us all was priceless.

At some point I may have pointed out the perils of putting one's tadger anywhere it shouldn't be and that the best place to keep it was in one's pants to which 'The Boy' jokingly replied "so it wouldn't be a good idea for me to try and put it in an electrical socket then?". 'The Man', thinking he was being helpful, suggested that he shouldn't put it anywhere he wouldn't put his finger! The next bit was a conversation stopper as 'The Boy' replied "so when I'm 27 (good lad) and decide to have sex with my girlfriend what am I going to do? Well, you wouldn't want to put your finger in a woman's, you know what, would you?".

End of conversation!

Well, would you?

Contemplating The Climb

When I was born (in Hong Kong) the nurse asked my name and when my mother told her it was Alanda she said that it sounded like the name of someone who could be famous. Well, after 37 years, I’ve only just got the incentive to try :-D.

I was drawing and painting from an early age and always knew I wanted to work in an arty field. I studied as a graphic designer and then worked as an illustrator for a while. I married young and moved many times with my husband’s job, always having to get admin jobs to make ends meet. When my son was born in 2002 I took up painting with pastels as a hobby and started painting portraits for family and friends. As my confidence grew I set myself up in business. After several moves and starting from scratch every time, I finally settled where I am now and have been building a reputation locally for teaching and portrait commissions. I have been separated from my husband for a while now awaiting divorce and have since met The Man I believe I'm meant to be with. 

When a well respected psychic told me that if I threw myself into more creative artwork I might finally make a name for myself and do very well at it, I decided to do just that. So here I am, throwing myself into the weird and wonderful in a totally different style, putting myself out there, as it were, in the world of social media, something I actively shied away from in the past. I have been hugely inspired to see the vast array of incredibly talented artists out there but sometimes it makes me feel quite daunted and more than a little small and insignificant. Often lacking in confidence, I still try to keep the faith that one day it will be my time to shine.

Tiny Peruvians versus Technology

Now that I have committed myself to keeping this blog updated I am struck by a dilemma. What should I write about?

This first thing that was in my head this morning was a very peculiar dream I had last night but as I went through my ritual of trying to get my netbook to load and behave itself a whole new line of thought opened up regarding my need for better technology. So which will it be?

I figure I'll get the dream out of the way as it is short but quite bizarre. So here goes:

I dreamt about tiny Peruvians, wearing fleecy babygrows, eating raw brussel sprouts in a train station.....

WTF??!! I am seriously concerned for my own mental well being here. I cannot pin any of that down to stuff I have thought about or seen on TV recently and, quite frankly, it's just not constructive dreaming.

Here are some examples of what I consider to be constructive dreaming: Sometimes I'll dream about a situation in my life or people that I'm pissed off with. In the dream, I may end up argueing with them or putting a hatchet through their head, there's usually a fair amount of swearing (a hatchet in your head will do that to you) but at least with that sort of dream I can say "yeah, you know what? I've got some issues there that I'm not dealing with in waking life so I'm escalating the problem in my subconscious", I get that. That makes sense. Even those dreams where my car's rolling down the street with me in the back seat unable to put the brakes on have a clear message about how I'm feeling in real life. And of course, there's the, all important, needing to use the toilet dream! The one where I'm unable to find anywhere to pee that's not filthy or that has a proper cubicle door instead of a half size one that everone can see over. This is the very useful dream that stops me peeing the bed in the mornings. (I dread to think what might happen if I ever found a nice clean private toilet).

As you can see, these dreams have some message for me that I can work out, however tenous the link to reality, but brussel sprout eating, fleecy, Peruvians? Nope, that one is beyond me.

In order to give this particular dream some significance in my life I have decided to commit it to paint. I often turn certain dreams into ideas for paintings when they contain such strong images, I have a notebook full of them. Although I can't imagine how this one will turn out as a painting, I am willing to give it a go just for the fun of it so watch this space. I will call it...umm...er... Untitled! Well, really, what on earth could you call such a thing? Answers on a postcard, please.

A Pile of Peas

I have, of late, come to the conclusion that being a "successful" artist can, in many cases, (not all) be attributed, in the percentage of at least 80%, to the art of bullshit.

I have not perfected this art by anywhere near that percentage, hence my inability to create a large enough following for my work. I'm too honest, I tell it like it is. I have no flannel, no patter, just me and what I do.

For instance, I'm not a brilliantly talented artist (gasp! shocks none), that takes dedication and I'm far too easily distracted. I'm the person for whom the phrase "Ooh, shiny!" was created. However, to give credit where credit's due, I can hold my own in my field of portraiture. By that I mean I can compete well within my particular tier, these things are tiered you see. I know that there are many people much better than me on higher tiers and there are many not so competent on lower tiers. I hold my own. I get commissions, people are happy, I get paid, yay!

I have gone to lengths to improve my skills, dragging my ass down to London for 2 months in the winter to study in an ice box of a studio at LARA. I would have liked to have stayed for much longer (preferably during warmer times) but with responsibilities at home and limited funds that was all I could manage. It did, however, make a large difference to my work and there was a marked improvement that I was very pleased with.

So why the deviation from portraits? Well, I've always envied creativity in art. I have previously been happy to paint what I see as it is and have struggled for years to loosen up my style. I wanted to break away from that and so far it's been fun, liberating, I would even go so far as to say it's been a cathartic experience.

Yes, the Red Dress paintings are simple, naive and appear to be lacking in artistry but it's what they have to say on an individual level that's important. They were predominantly created for my benefit as a healing tool but they spoke to others as well. Many people commented that they had been touched in some way by the simple images. Most commented that they felt uplifted by them. Good, that's what I wanted for them. I only received one negative comment which was along the lines of "nice colours but, frankly, my 5 year old daughter could have done them". Yes, you're probably right, and good luck to her if that's the way she decides to go.

Regarding the Girl in the Red Dress, will she continue to tell her tales? Absolutely! But she's evolving. Those simple images were for a different time. I have changed so my depiction of her will change too. You may like it, you may not, but the images are there just waiting to come out and she, like me, will continue to grow.

So there we have it, that is my level of bullshit, sitting at around 0%. I just can't do it. What you see is what you get. A Pile of Peas :-)

A bit of background

This is all on my G+ profile but for those who haven't read it, this is an abridged version of what I've been up to until now.

I have been a commissioned portrait artist for the last 9 years. My style has been realist, attention to detail having always been my strong point.

After a series of unfortunate events at the beginning of last year I went to see a well respected psychic to see if I could find some direction for my future. (Not usually my thing but I was desperate for some answers). She told me that the work I was doing with my portraits was "bread and butter" stuff but it was not my true calling. She suggested I try working more creatively and that if I could do so that it would be this new style of work that would make my name in the art world and that within the next 8 years I would be Internationally known and travelling Worldwide with my work.

I'm skeptical but, well, who am I to argue with destiny? :-D

I recently held a local solo exhibition with the theme The Girl in the Red Dress. My work was, to my surprise and delight, very well accepted and I sold many more pieces than my last "straight laced" exhibition. The Girl in the Red Dress was a product of my subconscious, totally different from anything I'd ever done before. I sat at my easel one night around midnight in front of a blank piece of paper and there she was. After posting her on Facebook and receiving a positive response I continued the theme. Some paintings seem to be based around well known fairytales but all have a deeper meaning to me and can be considered as my story. I believe that these images can be related to in many peoples realms of experience, depicting life's ups and downs, triumphs and trials, with a few "off the wall" ones thrown in for good measure.

Life for me has since taken a huge turn for the better and I'm very grateful for my own steadfast resolve to never let the bastards grind me down and also for the opportunities I have been given to pick myself up, dust myself off and grab the bull by the short and curlies! (I love to mix my metaphors) I'm grateful for the wonderful people in my life. Above all, my boy, my man, the man's boy, 2 cats and a squirrel (chihuahua), not to forget a plethora of valued true friends. Life is good, but should the need ever arise again, I'll be ready for the curve balls.

Where to start?

Bacon sandwich and a coffee. Should I be dressed for this?