izzybella

My subject titles are the lamest.  It’s very sad. 

So Friday was a really good day.  I attended one of those Skill Path seminars on Managing Emotions and Thriving Under Pressure.  There’s always one or two things that stand out for me at courses like that and this time it was the following question, “When you wake up in the morning are you excited/anticipating the day, and when you go to bed at night do you feel content/accomplished?”  Paraphrasing a little bit-my notes are on top of my dresser at home.  But that was the gist of it.  And the answer is—sometimes.  That’s very anti-climactic, sorry, but it’s the truth.  But I would like it to always be the case though and it really got me thinking. 

So on my way home from the training, I got a text from S telling me the Ron Mueck exhibit was still at the Modern, but it was the last weekend.  At first, I was all “oh, I’m so tired, I just want to go home and put on my sweats,” but then I thought about that question, and how lame it would be if I just went home instead of taking advantage of the fact that I was driving on I-35 and would shortly be approaching the exit to down-town Fort Worth and therefore the Modern.  And I argued with myself, “Self, wouldn’t you sleep better tonight knowing you took the time to see an art exhibit you’ve been talking about all month?”  And then the sleepy loser was all, “Shut up self!  I’m tired and whiny and my sweats are calling my name.”  And then Self was all, “Bite me,” and I crossed three lanes of traffic (no easy feat going southbound on I-35 at rush hour) and took the first exit downtown. 

It was then that I realized I had no idea how the hell to get to the Modern from there.  Usually when I go to the arts district, I take I-30-I just don’t know my way around downtown FW that well.  Ordinarily I’d be freaking out-calling foi and trying to figure out (a) where the hell I am, and (b) how the hell do I get where I’m going, oh my gosh, I’m looooooooooooooooooooosssssssssssst!!!!  But this time I was so zen.  I was all, “Hmmm, I don’t seem to know where I am at present (yes, I really did use the term ‘at present’) but it should be fun figuring it out.”  So I gradually made my way there–got backtracked once or twice (FW believes strongly in the one-way street which can make navigation a pain sometimes) and then I saw a street sign that read “Museum Way.” 

“Excellent,” I thought to myself.  “Museum Way undoubtedly will take me to the Modern and Kimball art museums.”  That’s logical, don’t you think?  I think so.  But no.  Museum Way dead-ends into some really pricey Mediterranean-looking real estate.  Dude, I could so live there.  I fantasized for about five minutes that I actually lived in a place like that-I was mentally furnishing my condo, but was interrupted by an extremely well-dressed woman very nervously staring at me and my not-a-luxury-auto auto like she was worried I was casing the joint or something.  So I snapped out of it, u-turned out of there only to suddenly realize that I did, in fact, know where I was.  Yep, there’s Trinity Park.  Yep, that’s where I used to see Shakespeare in the Park.  Okay, I’m good.  Took me about 3 minutes to get there.

It was only open for another 45 minutes, but that was long enough to see the exhibit.  He’s AMAZING.  I know that word is over-used.  I personally use it all the time for a really good episode of a television show or a nifty pair of shoes, but in this case the adjective is appropriate.  He creates these extraordinarily life-like sculptures of people on massive or really small scale.  There’s this one of two old ladies talking that I think is my favorite.  I seriously stood there for about 15 minutes imagining what they might be talking about and I was scandalized, I tell you.  Scandalized.  There’s also one of a couple spooning, and then several massive scale sculptures so detailed you can make out skin pores and birth marks.  It was brilliant.  I am so glad I saw that exhibit.

And I have to say that when I went to sleep that night I felt pretty content and satisfied.