Frost Apostraphe

I've been having either a great hermithood or an equivocal one.

My dad is pissed because I don't check facebook enough. I spent all kinds of time photoshopping some power lines out of a balloon shot he took from the balloon fiesta a couple weeks ago, and then the dogs broke the thumb drive so I became frustrated and quit.

On one hand, hermithood has been a failure; I've been in and out of town. I thought I was going to be exclusively in the mountains and never come down and be freezing and starving and people-free. Instead I shot Rob and Minnie's album cover, drank at Eliot's and got all drunk-emotional, and did other business type activities like check into contracting, zoning, and building permits.

But on the other hand, I've been making resin-paintings, taking lots of pictures, making paper-mache antlers, and learning to do metal clay. I'm working on two paintings and trying to learn how to make my own encaustics with 85% beeswax, 15% varnish, and pigments. I hope that goes well. It's nice to be productive.

The only trouble is that I think my self esteem might be worse actually than it was before. Also, I kicked iaaphoto and crimsonglory42 off my f-list because I realized I am happy for those strangers but at the same time something about their lives make me sad. I don't want to be having dreams about their happy lives. I'd rather have dreams about my own happy life and how I can make it a zillion times better. I feel like I'm invisible and like Carissa and Carly and everyone are exhibiting great improvements in their work by leaps and bounds while I wallow and stay the same.

If I yelled out right now, only the dogs would notice. I don't even think they'd wake up, the lazes.

Here are my best boys:








I'm only going to be hermitting for another week.