In the nighttime...

I've walked Tyke for the last time and I really should put on my pajamas and bathrobe now, but I like my outfit so well that I think I will keep it on a little longer and on top of that, it is very comfortable and I also like to think that a stranger may come upon me now and be completely smitten by me. Right! I am even wearing earrings that match my clothes and I bought those along with another two pair this morning and apparently I'm not allergic to them, because I haven't started to itch yet. It didn't say hypo-allergenic on the label or anything, so I took a chance. I took great care in choosing them, because there were a lot of earrings that were, shall we say, cheap looking and I didn't want them. I do have my standards. 

There were bins with sale items going at ridiculously low prices and I got a gray scarf, a lavender camisole, a multi-colored top to go over it and a leather wallet that's bright red. On the way to the check out stand, I added two chocolate bars, because I was hungry. 

I had a lot of fun, when I got home, cleaning out my old wallet, and putting all the loose change in a jar. There were many odd bits of paper that I threw out and old business cards that I had no use for. I put all the good stuff and the pictures of my kids and grandson in my new wallet and was much pleased. Now I don't have to be embarrassed when I pull out my wallet in the store. The old one was worn and stained, but I had gotten so used to its decrepit state that I hardly noticed it. Until I saw that nice red wallet. I put my California driver's license in the place where my Dutch one would go if I had one. For sentimental reasons and to remind me that I once also drove a car. It shows nicely through the clear plastic window. 

I put on the lavender camisole and put the thin multicolored top over it. It matched well. Then I took my purple light weight long sleeved cardigan and put that on and had an ensemble along with my black harem pants and the lavender earrings. I always think of thick knitted things when I say cardigan, but I don't know what you call thin light weight things that have long sleeves and are open in the front. Is there a name for them? I have several of those. 

Suitably attired, I walked Tyke and when I came home I made cigarettes and left to go to creative class. I wore the gray scarf and my black leather jacket, because it was chilly outside, though there was watery sunshine. I had an espresso when I got to the clinic and sat in the depressing smoking area with two rather depressed looking people. There are burn holes in the furniture and the strangest people walk in and out. It's not very exclusive.

In the creative room I got out the books on Henri Moore and tried to find a good photo of a sculpture that I had not done yet. It was tough to find one that I could make of clay and that was not too complicated, but I thought I finally did and went to work. After an hour and a half I gathered the whole mass of clay together and dropped it back into a big lump, because my efforts were in vain. I could not do it anymore. I was like a little kid in kindergarten and could not make anything that looked like the photo. I was very discouraged and ready to call it quits and go to work on something else. 

The therapist intervened, however, and told me to start with something very simple and work my way up from that. He said to pretend I was beginning from scratch and had never worked with clay before. He suggested I make a flat base and start building on that with strips of clay and make shapes with them and see what would come out of it. So that's what I did, but I'm afraid that I have an acute shortage of imagination and that I just don't see the possibilities. I feel so dull witted. I'm trying to penetrate to something deeper inside myself, but  there's a huge road block.

Socially it's not going well. There's a tight group of four women and one man and they are very exclusive. The other few people there don't count. They don't exist. I don't exist either, although I make every effort to be noticed. I'm completely ignored and not even greeted. They don't acknowledge my existence, not in the creative room, nor outside of it. So, I'm not going to be there for the socializing part of it. I will have to be there purely for the creative part. That has to be successful and I have to make it work. I will have to ask for all the help I can get from the therapist.

Oh, I forgot, I was only going to write about the positive things. Well, if I am smart and I look around me at what other people do and look in some art books and make some drawings, I am sure that I will come up with some ideas and all I have to do is experiment and try things out. If something doesn't work out, I just start over again. I mustn't get discouraged. And I do get to wear nice clothes, for all it is worth, but I am going to ask about that music therapy class, because I think I'm going to need it. I need a friendly environment to move in. 

It is now past midnight and I'm not ready to go to bed. I want to be in a good mood before I go. Not that I'm in an incredibly bad mood now, but I am bothered and I have to get that out of my system. It's gnawing at my soul and I have to straighten that out. I'm having a tall glass of lemonade to help me feel better. A nice sugar high is what I need. My brain will appreciate it. 

I suppose I thought I was such a friendly and likable person, that I would have no trouble making contact and that it would all go very easily. I'm surprised at the resistance I'm meeting. It does make me feel lonely and that I need to look for another place to get my social needs met. I will have to discuss this with my SPN next week. She must know of places where that can be done. A more user friendly place where people are welcoming and embracing. 

Well, I had better go to bed. It's no good discussing this endlessly. I must get some sleep. Hopefully things will look better in the morning. 

Have a good night, or rather, a good morning when you get up. 

Ciao,
Nora