Making waves homework

Homework yay!

Doing as the Pressure Cooker Tells Me.

The Pressure Cooker also known as the Academy of Art University and other fine schools out there who improve your progress in bounding steps instead of small but important tabs.

I have been advised to start an art blog by several teachers in my school, although I have also been informed by other teachers to do as I wish with my internet presence and just work hard as I usually do.

I think I will attempt a blog.

I drew this last night, I was really interested in making flowers with the select tool and whipping my tablet pen all around in swirly's to make the flowers petals.  Remember when you were young or even if you are older and got your first computer with MS Paint and you would draw a great big mess of lines and then use the paint bucket to fill in each part, these flowers are kind of an updated version of what we all universally do as children. Then she is in a cave because caves rock!

8 page views

Eight page views…

I post two things and I have eight page views, this is not a huge number, it is a small number, a very teeny tiny number. Smaller then 120,343,545,333,166,215 (a number I can not even pronounce) but bigger then 1 or 2 or 3, or even 7. Scary. I want to call out from my futon mattress “Who are you? What do you want? How did you find me?”

            It is time to go to sleep, and be bothered. Wake up in the morning and feel wiggly in my stomach at how many more there might be. “Is my grammar awful? Did I say something mean? Should I delete this?” is what I will wonder first thing opening my computer. First thing I will never know. –Dramatic send off and wind blows dramatically in a dramatic drama like way-

Survivor's guilt

Have you ever (of course you have) looked back in your High school yearbook (if you are out of high school by a good 3-4 years) and looked at all your friends or the people you knew in the hallway. That girl with the half pony tail and drawn on eyebrows, I wonder what she is doing? Then I find them on Facebook and see they are doing nothing (nothing to me), they post pictures of parties in basements they have gone to, red plastic cups filled with beer and a floating ping pong ball, they are proud of these pictures. Well I guess that is to be expected it was my first attempt at finding the classroom movie star, I hope they are happy but I was not searching for a party buddy. So I move onto the journalist, the one in the long coat that obsessed over Neo from the matrix and always asked hard questions and found interest in tiny things that I was too "cool" for. He works at Home Depot, which is although a very fine job, I can't quite put my finger on why I’m disappointed. Lastly I put all my hope into one more person, third time is a charm, I find their photo in the senior graduates, the artist group; every school has one. I find her name, she is the girl that did murals in my high school, always had her face shoved deep into a sketchbook, her fingers were stained with ink and she always smelled like fresh paper. I type the name, THE name into Facebook and I find them, they work as a nurse at my local hospital. Again I am disappointed, not because a nurse is a bad job; it’s just that I expected them to do a more advanced version of what they did in high school. I didn't expect the pot smokers on the corner to be advanced pot smokers, growing their weed and making millions (although it could be possible) and I didn't expect my slutty friend to be the CEO of Sluts incorporated either. Buy stock in Slutco, they aren't the only thing that will go "up!". 

At the end of my stalking and measuring of their statuses in the world I look at my self from high school. I was the farthest thing from the school slut, but damn if I did not try to wear the attire. Bra straps showed, suggestive cuts in my jeans and tight shirts with slogans like “Men are like parking spaces, all the good ones are taken”.  What did that even mean, and why did I think that was a good idea at the time? I also thought sewing fox ears onto my black hoodie was a good idea. I thought lots of things were a good idea; whip cream slip and slides are a constant though. I think about how my life goals in 2006 were to grow up, get an okay paying job, get married and raise some kids that played soccer and wouldn’t get fat like me, but now I’m 2500 miles away from home in my 4^th year of college and things are going so well it scares me. I keep looking up people from high school that I thought would be CEO’s or rock stars, what happened to that depressed guy that played the guitar in the hallways singing about “his girl and all her dirty tattoos?” or the preppy football queen that braided her hair so tight and looked so beautiful at prom, what about happened to the people who got straight A’s while I contended with a C- because it didn’t manner any way, I was going to be a nothing and happy.