My Last Few Hours of Summer

And I'm spending them blogging because if I don't, I'm just going to annoy the hell out of the people that I talk to on all those free games I have linked in the side bar.

So let's see. How has my summer been? In a word, productive. I worked on my skills drawing the human figure, but I've reached yet another blockade that I must get over. Apparently, I lost the ability to pull a pose for the figure out of the blue. I guess that's what I get for working from photos. My best work that I've done all summer I feel I have no right to have produced, but other than that, my outside-of-class practice did me some justice. Hopefully I won't lose any of that come Painting 1.

My love life died after I came back from the Smokies. If you can call it that, that is. Sometime between coming back from the trip and about a week later, I realized that even if I was to go after the model I drew and talked to on and off, it would still never work out. He's too much of a free spirit, and I'm still chained down at no fault but my own.

I developed a new fantasy for me to sleep to. A caring, clean-cut, open-minded blond boy who could easily model. Who, because it's such a small world, knows the people that broke my very soul. Who is rich but doesn't act it because he doesn't live in a fancy house or buys expensive things. Hell, I day dreamed about him getting on my ass about not sticking to a budget when shopping! What rich person thinks about a budget while shopping for pleasure, I ask you? Very forgiving, and likes very much to cuddle and mess around in bed. Very lean thanks to a high metabolism. The kind of guy that doesn't need to work out. The kind of guy that also would stay up to make sure I fell asleep soundly and would ask permission before kissing me. Yeah, I know, all too much like a fairy tale. But it helps me sleep at night dreaming this fantasy boy.

As the summer began to draw more and more to its end, the idea of how much I needed to get a job got stronger and stronger. It became more and more apparent that I still won't be able to do anything I want even with money. Without it, I wouldn't be able to do what I need to do like buy food when I want to eat something that isn't in the house. Maybe even later on pay rent for some apartment with only 100 square feet of space, provided I could afford something that big.

Yeah, the lack of self-esteem is showing. I know. Just bear with me.

In any event, work to me is a for letter word. I, somehow, got it solidified deep within me that what Mark Twain said once is indeed true. To paraphrase, he said that if you enjoy what you are doing, you'll never work a day in your life. I believe this to be true. I mean, what is the point of working if you can't have fun and enjoy it? Every night while my sister was being a server, she would come home 9 out of 10 times with a story of horror. How the idiot boss made her and several others take home the napkins because he is too cheap to get a washer himself to clean them all. Dad said for her not to do that unless she gets paid the next time. Or about how people stiff her on the tip or say that they change their minds when the food comes out, to which he just forces herself to smile and bite her lip. Or worst of all, when her co-workers ditch her leaving her to run half of the restaurant's tables by herself! Did I mention she has to bus her own tables as well? With all this in mind, there is no way work for her can be fun. The only things that make it fun for her are those little 5 minute breaks in the back where she gets to talk about little things with the co-workers that actually respect her and treat her like family. That's probably her only escape.

Too bad for me I'm not people friendly. Oh, sure, if you ask anyone that doesn't hate me about me, and they'll say I'm alright. But do they really know me? I don't think so, nor do I think most will.

That's why I've pretty much decided to leave all the self-expression out of my art for awhile. I'll probably do something more along the lines of what I've been doing over the summer. Blatantly sexual and very idealized male anime figures in very suggestive attire should go over very nicely with the conservative board that runs the school. Maybe even give my fellow students something to psychoanalize as to why all my prints and paintings are coming out looking generally the same.

Either way, I'm not going with my original plan of doing pieces where people don't have mouths or hearts and have a very sad look in their eyes until I find the right piece that just tears the living soul out of everyone that looks at it and makes them cry knowing how much pain I've had to deal with and that I've become aware that nobody really gives a damn about it. That everyone thinks it is just so easy for someone to just get over it because if they can do it, why not whiney me?

Apparently, I must be the only person in the world that knows that individuality doesn't come from conforming to the main stream and is trying to live it.

Conformity and capitalism seem to be the two things I'm against to the point where, if this was another time and era, I'd be labeled a Communist. Like I even know what it means to be a Communist. If anything, I'll probably be called a long-haired hippie of the Charlies. (Wow, I'm being brutal!)

I guess when you boil away all the water in the pot, the fact of the matter is I'm tired of being who I am because society tells me who I am is wrong. But at the same time I don't want to change who I am while I continue to give society the bird. There's really no compromise the way I see it. You either lose your identity by not being different enough to where individuality is brought to a whole new level outside of every other stereotypical role the media and everyday life presents (which, ironically, if you think about it, is a form of conforming anyways), or you lose your very life because the society has become so well grounded to the point where going against the grain is like driving on the wrong side of the street. Okay, bad comparison, but you get the idea.

This rant has gone on long enough, and by now I probably lost whoever I gained over the summer as far as regular readers go. I doubt anyone cares, but like I said in the Blogger survey I filled out earlier in the week, I need to get this off my chest before I end up killing something or someone.