The following is an eMail I recently received. It is used without expressed written consent of the author and for that matter, no consent was issued at all -- not even implied oral consent. In other words, don't tell him.
"Hey dude,
Dropped by Mercer today and ran into some of the committee members with
the Orientation department. Apparently your drawings have been the talk
of the office. One said that she loved the art, then introduced me to
Dr. Jay Pendleton (she's the department head) who in turn commented
again on how well done the art was. I made sure to tell them that I
keep a great illustrator on hand ... they all know that I can't draw
(ie, the stick figure drawings I come up with in our meetings). Anyway,
great job man! They should have proofs back by the end of next week
they were saying. If there's any changes beyond what I can do, I'll get
in touch with you about that then. The way they were talking though,
sounds like they dig it all as is. Anything going on tonight? Kristen's
getting back in town this evening and thought maybe we'd go do
something this evening.
Let me know man. Again, thanks for all you do!
-c"
One of the stories this week, one that went missing, was how I rekindled my love affair with drawing. By no means would I claim to be a good artist. Likewise, I'm not even making a serious effort. However, I do enjoy it and hearing that I did well was nice.
So there I was, in the Waffle House working like mad to meet my deadline. If you read the blog about someone bustin' a cap in my homeboy's ass, then you'll remember that I wasn't exactly "all there" this past weekend. As a result, I waited until the last minute to begin putting together the stuff Hoodrat wanted for his Mercer gig.
Okay, again, I'm in the Waffle House. I could have smoked and drank coffee for free at home, but I rarely find the ability to do anything there. So Waffle House and I'm all about getting this done. The look on my face was nothing short of hardcore and dedicated. Everyone there knew I was working in a sketch pad and with the demeanor, they had to figure I was one helluva serious artist.
One brave waitress made her way over to see what was going on. She peered over the counter to see what it was that had so captivated my attention.
Bears.
I was drawing cartoon bears. She looked at me quizzotically and asked, "Whatcha doin' that fer?" Quickly defending whatever integrity I have, I blasted back, "It's for work. I'm getting paid for that." Reading between the lines, the interpretation is clear: I do not draw bears for fun.
The gig is designing T-shirts for a local university who will welcome their freshmen in upcoming months with these T-shirts. One for orientation. The theme: Bear Necessities. Did I mention that their mascot is a bear? So it's a bear. And the picture they wanted to convey this complex notion of "Bear Necessities" was one of a bear in a hammock reading a book. It wouldn't prove to be the most exciting or challenging work in my brief career.
Nor would the second. It's for "moving in day", and its theme is "Bearing the Load". The ideas tossed my way were A#1) a bear moving furniture and B#2) a bear holding a box in its hand in a manner that would suggest the bear is actually a superhero. And my creative urges were alive!
Thank god for coffee. So I completed the first one with relative ease. The second was pretty easy too. When I get a copy of the finished product (after Hoodrat's done his graphic design bit), I'll share it.
Aside from stroking my ego, I am leading this account to what I believe is the best part of the story. Hood and I hadn't seen much of each other for a year or so. Once the exchange was made for the pictures I drew, we got to talking. Catching up.
I may be one of the few cool people out there who looks forward to their class reunions and whatnot, but it's because I love stories. Everytime I get a chance to see someone I've known for a while but haven't seen for a while, I get excited. It's hard enough to remember what I was like seven years ago without trying to remember what they were like. But there you go. You find out what changes took place with them and sometimes you resurrect things you'd buried and forgotten. Good stuff.
So Hood and I haven't known each other for that long but still, I feel like I've grown a lot in the past two years. After Sunday night (and later when we went for pool on Tuesday), I realized how much he's grown.
And such is life. When you have the opportunity to enjoy it, then go ahead, enjoy it. It's good for you. The chances are good that soon enough you'll have to turn back to face how ugly shit gets and since I don't find that to be much fun, I don't advise you do that.
One last tale to tell.
I had a dream this week that continues to fuck with me. I call it a nightmare because of what it makes me think about and how long it has stayed with me.
My first significant ex, Kris, had me out to her place in California where I was going to screen my bootleg copy of Spiderman 2. Incidentially, it was a VHS bootleg on which I clearly remember the title being "How We Got to Watch Spiderman 2". Well, she had other friends around including other ex-boyfriends and potential suitors. They were all very jealous of me. And there was a closeness between us like there used to be, but nothing terribly romantic. However, I wanted the romantic so I kept trying to get us settled in on the couch together for this kick-ass flick.
Unfortunately, I was Spiderman and everytime my spidey-sense tingled, I had to split. This meant not only missing parts of the movie but also the opportunity to patch things up with my first love. And everytime I came back from saving someone, we were in a different place until finally, we were in the basement of my late grandfather's house. I don't remember any tidy ending but I know I never got the girl. No problem.
What this makes me think about and I suppose why it has been sticking with me is that I did something stupid (or at least I think I did). She and I have remained in touch over the years, but with limited success. A couple of months ago, I called her and we talked. This was after several attempts to get her without having calls returned. It was an awkward conversation and I could tell she didn't trust my motives, perhaps thinking that since I was recently un-engaged that I wanted to start things up with her again. Not true, but I understand. After all, I was rather devastated when she broke up with me. And being devastated, I was always calling her drunk and slobbering over my wounded heart. Singing was the worst part. Damn Van Morrison.
Moving on, she sent a short eMail a few weeks ago apologizing for being a shitty friend and explained again for the zillionth time that she's just so busy working on her PhD and teaching classes. I've accepted that a zillion times. Yes, she's busy. Thing is, with eMail, I wasn't so forgiving. I hadn't felt any desire to write or call her since our last phone conversation, and had in effect, just accepted that we weren't going to make it as friends.
So I decided to write her back with that and a few updates on me, my friends and family. She hasn't written back and I don't expect that she will. Can't blame her. Part of me feels like she might be really hurt and pissed but I think that's assuming that she actually cares. The other part feels like she's relieved because I let her off the hook. She didn't have to patronize me anymore. Either way, this dream makes me feel sucky because I could have been far more tactful than I was and in any event, should have told her how I felt without cutting the line when I was done.
But that's life too. You do stupid things and move along hoping to have learned from the mistakes. If not, you'll do it over and over again until you get tired of it. Perhaps I only feel bad because I did the right thing for a change but it's so out of my nature that I feel guilty. Who knows? And by now, do you really care?
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