Charlie

I wish I had a reason to blog under happier circumstances.

My precious cat, Charlie, died yesterday morning. My dad says it was around 9:30am. At 9:30am I was here at school, showering away my tiredness. This weekend would have been the weekend for me to go home. My dad had off, it would have been easy to have someone pick me up after my afternoon math class on friday. But sadly for me, and anyone else who had planned to go home, all the freshman English classes were scheduled for a "field trip" to a local art museum. It was indeed a bummer. When I woke up on Saturday I was a bit annoyed. I knew I couldn't really sleep in any longer than I already had. It was 9:13am and I wanted to get a few things done before my friend came by to drive myself and some others to the museum.

We were to arrive at the museum at 12:45pm, and my friend was planning to pick us up around 12:30pm. At 12:18pm, my mom called. This was a surprise. She told me she wanted to come and get me, bring me home for the weekend. She said she knew how much I wanted to come home, and that she would be here after I got back from the museum at 2:00pm. I was excited. It was so spontaneous. I like trips planned on a whim. Last minute packing, you've probably forgotten something trips.

The ride home was fine. Nothing unusual from my mom's side. As we approached my home town, my mom told me I should call my dad. I thought my coming home would be a surprise for him. Something nice. I could spend some time at his house. I pictured myself sitting on the floor, in the dark blue jeans that I was wearing(the only pair of pants I brought), they would get covered with cat hair, but I would pet and play with my cat, maybe work on my color theory homework.

But when I called my dad, he sounded different. He sounded distant. Like a ghost. And I knew something wasn't quite right. He had known that I was coming home. He asked me if I was sitting down, which of course I was, I was in the car. And of course, when people ask if you're sitting down, it's never good. Nothing good would cause anyone to want to sit down. Nothing bad could cause anyone to want to stand up. I first thought of my brother, had something happened to him? But I knew if it was something as serious as that, mom would have said. So what was it? I thought of Grandma, which of course was silly, we had had that phone call over a year ago, but this one would be very similar. He told me that he had woken up and made some tea. He had given Charlie a treat, everything seemed fine. He went and sat down in the living room, watching the Tottenham game. Charlie came in, as she had a tendency to do, to check things out, looked at my dad and left. He said not seconds later, he heard this noise, like Maki and Charlie make when they fight, only louder. He got up, and looked. The vet said she had died from an aneurysm. She was nine years old.

I cried hard. Like I did when Grandma died. All I wanted to do at that moment was to pet my Charlie. To feel the softness of the white fur under her chin. I tried to remember the last time I saw her. It was two weeks prior. It had been her birthday. I was so proud of her. I poorly sang to her. I kissed the top of her head, gave her some treats, and I told dad that I thought she was live forever. She was so tough that she could last forever.

She used to do this thing, I taught her to do it. She would raise her paw when she wanted a treat, or pets. Sometimes you could just look at her, and she would raise her paw. And she didn't meow like a normal cat. She actually talked in half meows. Sometimes it sounded like she was telling you off by her tone. But we used to talk to each other. I would mimic her noises and it was like an actual conversation. She was so smart, and so curious. She would knock a pen off the table just because she wanted to play with it. And she was my cat.

I went to my dad's today, for the first time since it happened. And immediately I was bawling, because I knew she wasn't going to be there. She liked to hide sometimes but I knew she wasn't hiding. I had to face the fact that I'll never see her tail whip around the corner again. Or watch her clumsily leap onto the cupboard. I'll never see her raise her paw at me. Or press her head into my hand for more pets. I just stood in my room and cried. I felt empty. Kind of like when we all cried during Toy Story 3. Not the first time, when all the toys embrace death by incineration, but at the end when Andy finds Woody in the box, and finally gives him up. When he leaves for college. The feeling isn't of the growing apart, or the leaving behind, it's the loss. I cried, not because I knew what Andy felt like, because I don't. I've never given away a toy I've been strongly attached to. It's what those toys represented. Childhood. You can never get that back. Not the innocence, or the glow feeling the world had when you're small. When growing up means being artist, even though you have no idea what that means. When everything is easy, and the only thing you could want more than extra play time, would be to learn how to write well. Looking at the living room from my doorway felt like watching Andy wave goodbye to those toys. It will never be the same.

I guess what hurts the most, other than the suddenness of it all, and how completely unfair it is, would be watching Maki. Dad told me how he was looking for her yesterday. Today I watched from the couch as he sad in the kitchen. He sniffed the air, and all around. I knew he was sniffing for her.

So decisions were to be made. She is at the vets, but what did we want to do with her. What did I want to do with her. I didn't want to see her. I want to remember her the way I've described. And as much as I would like to feel her fur one more time, it's not the same. I can't imagine how my dad must feel. He said that after he wrapped her in a towel, he carried her to the car, he said it was like carrying a baby again. So, she will be cremated. We'll have her ashes in a jar I guess, and burry her at the side of the house, maybe next weekend.

I miss her so.

Rest in peace

October 3rd 2001 - October 16th 2010

Ass-backwards

It's been a month since I've written anything, and yeah, I guess one could say a lot has happened. But not much has really happened. At least nothing worth documenting. I was going to attempt to eat what I had concocted for breakfast, but it appears to be boiling-lava-hot, so I thought I'd blog instead.

I was doing my immensely large pile of dishes earlier this morning(it was immense, no exaggeration, I didn't have any bowls left.) and I kept doubting myself in my currant situation. Am I really supposed to be here? I know ones foundation year at an art school is usually the least creative, but I didn't know I would feel less creative. I finished all my art related homework yesterday, and decided to make a collage in the evening. It was fun, but now that I look at it, the pieces are pealing up, and it kinda looks like crap. And although I'm lacking for inspiration in the drawing department, my mind is still coming up with stories.

I'm wondering if I'm doing this all ass-backwards, that maybe I should be pursuing English with some sort of art/illustration minor. But that's not a option here at art school. The problem is, that most of my creativity, art wise, comes from the stories I make up, but what I've learned, from the past, is that when I come up with a story, begin to write it down, and then go and draw the characters, or whatever, it sometimes kills the story for me.

I've just had an epiphany, just now as I shoved oatmeal into my mouth. I was going to talk about the dream I had last night. It was odd, as per usual. The part I mostly remember was when I decided to go back to my high school with some friends to visit our teachers. It was obviously right after college classes were done for the summer, because the high school was still in section. Lydia was there, though I'm not sure why because she didn't go to my high school. But after talking with some kids in the hallway I went straight for the art room, because it was my art teacher who I wanted to see first. I caught her from behind and hugged her, and she seemed not so interested, but wanted to show me the new art room. She was going on about how they had hired some woman to paint it, but she didn't use the right colors, or whatever, but as she was going on about this, it wasn't the bright blue and white that caught my eye first it was that room was full of books. It was like a labyrinth of book shelves and there were students in there but they weren't making art, but putting books on shelves, and organizing. I still saw art on the walls, but the room was mostly books. I felt kind of sad, I mean, the school has a nice library, why turn the art room into one?

I think that means something.

It's been a long time since I've had to write anything creative for school. Junior year I wrote a poem, and that was the first time since junior high. I remember there was a woman, Ms. Brown, who took over my 6th grade class after our other teacher had a heart attack, and she had us make a book of poetry. She told me I had a gift for it. My junior high english teacher was pretty fond of my poetry too. But I've never written a story for a class before. I had been enrolled in the creative writing class my senior year, but dropped it so I could switch my math class to a different period. I regret that. I should have never taken math.

I don't know where I'm going with this, and my tea is getting cold, but I feel kind of trapped. I had prepared myself to dislike my school, even prepared myself to want to transfer right away, but when I got here I loved it so much. Now I don't know. I feel like maybe I'm missing out. I'm paying for classes I don't have interest in, that are of little use to me. My English class is a joke, and my math class will never come in handy because I've learned all of what he is teaching. What if I'm missing opportunities? What if all this time spent painting squares never comes into play because I go and pursue something else.

I know where I want to end up at the end of all this, I just don't know how to get there. I'm sure that's true for everyone, but I hate realizing after so long, that maybe what I wanted, and what I'm after, isn't going to make me happy.

The truth is here.

Another reason I haven't been blogging, other than lack of time I mean, is that I spend more time on Tumblr. Also, my friends and I have started our collab channel.

No big deal

Today was a good day.

Posted a video today.

Some of the good stuff was said in that video.

I make a schedule every evening before I go to bed describing what I need/want to get done the next day. I was ahead of schedule for the first time this morning which was awesome. My 2D design teacher had lots of good things to say about the work I had done.

Still no luck with the bug ordeal. I kind of feel like doing some reading. Like out of a book that doesn't have to do with art 'n' such. I mean, it's interesting and all, but it gets kind of boring.

My shoulder still gets numb. I really think all this sitting and being hunched over is going to ruin me. I know that I'll probably need back surgery at some point in my life since most of my job will require me to be sitting, hunched over.

Finished Companion block.

newly done Cyberman on black paper with white conte crayon, my speciality.

Seriously, I work with that medium all the time.

I'm a pro, but I felt like a poser when everyone was "ooh-ing" and "ahh-ing" over it. Even the teacher. I wanted to tell them it's no big deal, because it isn't. I'm not as great as they think I am.

Math class tomorrow......

blahh.

Digesting

Hello and welcome to another post that is complete shit.

I'm feeling rather stressed right now. It feels like I'm never done with work. Once I finish one thing I never feel accomplished because I know there is still more.

I got a 73% on that still life....

Yeah I don't know what to think about that. The highest grade was a 78%.

Now I have to draw a still life of a bug. A dead one. I have to go out of my way to FIND A DEAD BUG SOMEWHERE!!!

Funny quote from today though would be when he was critiquing one student's piece he said:

"This right here, it's drawn beautifully, but, W-T-F?"

Good times.

Definitely making a video for the channel tomorrow. OFFICIAL! So yeah, that'll happen.

Here are some almost finished works for the PToDW:

Adipose(on cardboard, white spray paint, black prismacolor, shading done in watered down acrylic)

& K9(the body is cut out grays from paint swatches, white bristol paper, and black acrylic)

Companion (black duct tape on bristol paper) it's not done yet, I still have to add gray.

& The Doctors 9,10, & 11(cut-out on black card stock glued on white bristol with prismacolor grayscale). I was going to do all 11 Doctors' silhouettes, but then realized how small they were going to have to be since each square is 3 1/2 x 4 inches.

mmmm, digestive.

Bless your face. Peace off.

homework, neighbor, artists as couples?

I picked doing homework over eating cookie dough and watching A Walk to Remember. What the hell is wrong with me?

Well...I don't really like Mandy Moore anyway. Or sappy movies. I supplemented the cookie dough with chocolate ice cream once I was done with homework.

So the girl next door, the one who was hung over after the first night, saw me for the first time today. Despite her immense popularity, I haven't met her before. But she was behind me has I was coming back from class. This is how it went down:

Gia: Hey, are you the one that lives next to me?

Me(as I punched in my door code): I suppose so, yeah.

Gia: I just haven't seen you at all.

Me: I keep to myself.

Friend of Gia(overly pleasant): IT WAS NICE TO MEET YOU!

Moving on.

Can I just say how grossed out I am with these freshman college couples? I'm really grossed out. We've been here for what, 9 days? You see them holding hands, strolling down the sidewalk. They've got their portfolio bags and boxes of oil paints. I've probably said this a million times out loud, but regardless I'm going to say it here: I would never date anyone who goes to my college, or anyone who is an art student. I say this only because 1.) I know how art kids are. They are quite similar to drama kids. We can be extremely moody, and picky, and judgmental(as are people who are not artists, but we are all of these, and worst). We also at times like to be hermits. Example of that being that Gia has never seen me because I spend most of my time either in class, in my room, or in a friend's room. But mostly in my room. The second reason of me not being able to date an art student would be due in part by a cliche. "Opposites attract". I believe this, to an extent. But mostly I believe that two artists, living together, will clash creatively. This may not be true. But in my mind the worst case scenario would be that the two artists would become moody, picky, and judgmental of their work and everything else, at the same time. Personally I feel like it'd be better for me to be with someone who cared about my art, and the arts in general, but perhaps was an accountant. Ya know, found beauty in numbers or something. I think I've always pictured my life being similar to that of Daniel Stone in The Tenth Circle. Of course without the whole bit about my daughter getting raped, my wife pushing a kid off a bridge, and me being from Alaska where I can see Russia from my house. But job-wise and life style-wise, I'd like to be in his shoes. His wife was a Professor, and he was the stay-at-home dad with the art studio at the front of the house. That's the kind of life I want.

Here's the brother and I at the Baltimore zoo:

It was forever ago, but you gotta love his face.

I think he still makes that face every now and then

The hills are alive

I know, I know, I forgot about you last night. But I didn't actually forget about you. I remembered you, only after I had "finished"* watching The Sound of Music with my mother, had gotten into bed, and had shut down my computer. So there.

Also, I have an excuse which is that I had been sitting for over 3 hours working on a still life for my drawing class. I think it came out alright. And after that I just wanted to take my mind off of focusing on anything that involved sitting and using hand-eye coordination.

Mark of the artist.

Finished product. It's a heart-shaped ceramic box..if you can't tell.

I'm back in my dorm now. I had to do some major reorganizing because I brought back a bunch of stuff that I had bought and/or forgotten. Trying to get settled. Put a poster up on my wall. Harry Potter of course. Listening to some muffled conversations and the dryer going from down the hall. I'm pretty tired, but it's only 8:40pm. I think I might watch a movie or something. I would go hang out with some friends a few doors over, but like I said, tired.

Skyped with mom, my belly hurt...but she kind of looked like one of those people who gets interviewed for documentaries, but doesn't want to be recognized.

If only her voice had been deepened.

I also got some posters hung at my mom's new apartment, which is nice. It feels a bit more like my room with a Harry Potter poster above my bed.

This is at my dorm though...

Well I think that's about all I have to say. I really want to watch a movie.

Bless your face. Peace off.

*"Finished": I'm not a huge fan of The Sound of Music, mostly because I find it too long for anyone's liking. So I always stop watching after they get married, because that's where the movie should end. At least, in my mind.

Rambling

Wow, almost forgot about you again. This is really awful.

I don't think blogging every day is for me, although I would love to do it. It's not gonna happen.

My computer's battery is at like, 17%. So yeah, this has got to be quick....

Planning to set up the 3 hour still life tomorrow for my drawing class. I'm not sure what I'm going to draw yet...something interesting.

My shoulder is really messed up. I must have pulled a muscle last week when I was moving stuff to the new apartment. But it's been numb and tingly for a while. I'm getting kinda worried.

I also have tons of bruises on my right leg from moving. I bruise fairly easily and the usually stick around for a few weeks. Right now they're all green/yellow with a bit of purple. It looks like I'm in an abusive relationship.

I've been buying a lot of supplies for my 2D project. Hopefully it turns out nice.

My walls at the new apartment are so bare. I haven't put anything up yet really. I kind of wish I had taken a picture of the walls at the old place because I had a pretty sick set up.

Alright. I'm going to bed.

Me and my TARDIS pillow.