Tonight I made it through my first Art History test of my entire life…ever. I’m not counting past lives since those details are still emerging. I sure hope I get far enough in this life to take my last Art History test ever…at the end of all the Art History classes I can possibly take.
Art History : Love as Test Taking : Not Love. I’m trying to get in my rational mind now. (So I hope I got that right. Equations and logic aren’t always my thing.)
I learned tonight I’m a crier. I used to be so stoic about crisis. But after I got through a half-day of intense preliminary irritability, crying is all I have wanted to do. I wanted to cry before, during, and after my test tonight.
And I’m glad I doubled up a few days ago on my exercise routine because I celebrated with a trip to Burger King.
Maybe I knew this was coming?
I have craved a thin (Thin, I like the thin ones) juicy fast-food hamburger all week. It’s a far cry from my regimented allotment I give myself of rice cakes and protein bars everyday. Sometimes I do splurge and have almond milk.
So when I drove into the lane-of-no-return and ordered that Whopper I knew I had pulled off something big tonight. Maybe even life-changing. Something is growing inside me.
I craved fast food burgers the entire time I was pregnant with my oldest daughter.
Deeper into the story you would know the last time I signed up for an Art History I ended up with an extended hospital stay before I made it to my first test.
That was in 2006.
It’s like returning to the scene…
Art History didn’t put me in the hospital, but it was the hardest thing to give up. Having to let it go killed me.
I’ve come to reclaim my soul.
Everything is still there where I left it except I have moved from the third row back and to the right of the room to the front row and to the left.
I don’t want to be distracted. I intend to live.
This time it’s just me and art alone in a dark room.