Friday, September 14, 2012

Shit I think about when I'm drawing anthropomorphized elements

I'm currently illustrating a book about the elements.  I can't really say much else because, well, that's how it works in pre-publication.  I'm not really allowed to talk about it, show it to anyone, or discuss the story.  All part of the whole non-disclosure and being sworn to secrecy lest someone steal the concept.

Anyway.  It's been a long, arduous project, full of frustration, reworks, missed deadlines, and a LOT of dust.  I love the way pastel looks, but it is a very, very dirty medium.  For this reason I am thankful I have a studio space.  

So while I work, I have a lot of time to think.  I listen to music, draw, and think.  I also talk to myself a lot.  Working on a project is a great way to sort through things I might not otherwise have time to mull about.

This afternoon I was thinking about this person in whom I am interested.  His name is, well...I've been referring to him as "He Who Drinks My Coffee," and I think for the purpose of this blog he shall remain such.  I'm pretty sure this individual is currently attached.  Married, perhaps.  Not sure.  In any case, I found myself handing him my number yesterday afternoon after weeks - months, perhaps - of admiring him from afar.  We'll see if he calls.  I'm not holding my breath.  He did, however, deliver my forgotten coffee shortly after I gave him my number.  So if nothing else, he's thoughtful if not available.

As I am wont to do in these situations, though, I started really overthinking my behavior.  When he stopped over with my coffee, I found myself prattling on and on and on about various things that interest me.  In retrospect, however, I don't think any of them made me seem all that appealing.  I talked about my power tools, for the most part.  And moulding.  How romantic.  I appeared dressed in my cruddy art clothes - jeans, t-shirt, apron, hair in a messy bun with a pencil stuck in it, and pastel dust everywhere.  I'm sure he was like, "she got THAT dirty in a matter of half an hour?"  Serious Pigpen action, only in technicolor.  

It was hot out.  I started to sweat.  So I talked about power tools, home improvement, moulding, self-employment, and coffee while streaking ultramarine blue pastel across my sweaty forehead.  So attractive.

I hope he IS married.  At least then he has a convenient excuse to not reciprocate interest, rather than trying to figure out a nice way of saying, "sorry, fat manly artists aren't my type."

Oh well.  Back to work.

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