Happy Little Accidents

Of course, I need to go to sleep and I'm wired. But have no fear, Red Wine is here. After a glass, I'm hopeful I'll drift off into Never-Never Land until the butt-crack of dawn arrives and I have to get up. Man, I'm not cut out for work. Or really much of anything.

I'm taking this dance class that should be fun, if my body cooperates. So far, my back has lodged a pretty loud complaint. And I haven't even started. Stupid back.
Always out to ruin a good time. I found myself amazed that while the prof was lecturing, I completely lost my concentration because of a car alarm right outside the studio. Now, remember that this is a college campus, and that the nearest parking garage is at least half a mile away, and it gets a little irritating. The next little tidbit is that all the ROTC offices are right in that vicinity (dance and the military, they go together, don't they?). If you do a little elementary deduction, you'll come up with some asshole with a gun who apparently can get through an entire obstacle course of ropes and tires, but can't walk up a hill to his office. And he's disturbing my learning (how cliche), AND making me look like an idiot because I have to ask her to repeat whatever it is she just said about architecture and originality and hanging. Or something like that.

Today was also my first day in painting class that we actually started painting, and yes, I suck. Who knew a candle and a tea cup would be so tricky? Still life is so boring. But I did my best and finished one and four-fifths paintings. True to form (of being good at stuff that isn't important), my best skill is mixing the paint. I can't help but think of Bob Ross as I see happy little this and happy little that. A girl in the class asked me if I'd done this before. I'm a bit shy around strangers, so I just said no, not really, instead of are you kidding?! look at the crap I just cranked out and decide for yourself! She was surprised because she said I looked to comfortable with the paint. Ok, here's something to know about me:

I don't fuck around.

I dive right in and do stuff, and as a result, end up looking brave at times, and foolish at times. And trust me, the more mistakes you make, the easier it is to make more of them. Wait, that didn't sound very hopeful....But you know what I mean. No one wins the (ahem) Cy Young by sitting on the bench. But as I told her, Bob Ross' line is my mantra: There are no mistakes, only happy little accidents.

I like happy little accidents.