All of yesterday I worked hard to improve my bench. I started working right after drawing, basically, and worked until 11:30 at night. Though I did buy dinner, I basically neglected it in my total and absolute euphoric enthusiasm for the current project. I wasn't there because I had to be there, I wanted to work hard and be unnecessarily wasteful in order to make my beautiful bench. I went to bed happy. That was last night.
Right now, I'm stuffing down the Oreos that I bought Sunday night. I am really really glad I bought them, as they are the closest thing to chocolate I have in this room. AKA, my beautiful bench was shot down and de-feathered mercilessly. Oh, they tried to be nice after I started crying (well not crying exactly, just my nose got stuffy and my eyes got kind of puffy and and shiny), and sure they were encouraging, but still, they are basically blaming me for something out of my control. I think it's a gorgeous bench, they think it's ugly. It's totally subjective, and they want something that I find to be rather hideous. I don't think they realize that I'm the one who's going to be staring at it for the rest of my life. But yes, I cried and after they spent a lot of extra time trying to cheer me up (which is exactly the wrong thing to do for me) I went to the bathroom and cried some more. Then I went back into studio and got back to work. Thankfully, John's a guy and he doesn't go "Omigosh, Angela. Are you okay?" I don't know exactly what I'd do if anyone had done that. Probably either a) cried some more or b) gotten angry and refused to acknowledge anyone. Crying is bad, I hate crying.
Pardon me while I return to my Oreos.