Here's a Laura Fun Fact. I throw a tantrum every Thursday. Or Wednesday night if I'm not procrastinating.
You see, Thursdays I have drawing class. No, I'm not throwing the tantrum because of class, though I have come to regard that particular class with a seething hatred almost as intense as my disgust for the academic system as a whole. The tantrum comes from the drawing homework that I have put off for a week and usually have 2 hours to complete before I leave for the day. This is my fault I admit but the boiling rage I have for smearing charcoal on paper is so great that I avoid it until the last minute, causing an explosion of my cheerful disposition into something vile, nasty, and heartless.
Wednesday nights it starts brewing. I realize the countdown has begun when I go online to see what my task is for the week. A figure drawing here, a perspective drawing there, and don't forgot to keep adding to your sketchbook. A peeve of mine is the requirement to keep a sketchbook when enrolled in a drawing class. First off, I'm too busy doing our stupid drawing assignment to do extra "sketches" in my spare time. Secondly, I'm not carrying around a blasted heavy pad of canvas paper in case something strikes my fancy. Thirdly, a sketchbook should be whimsical collection of inspirational doodles that are lighthearted but well crafted. Not the burden of a requirement to be inspired or else you fail.
Last night I waited until 1am to start my assignment: copy a figure drawing by one of the Italian masters. I clutched the chalky charcoal stick in my sweaty palm and stared at the two feet of blank white page in front of me. I can't copy a Master's drawing. It's like asking your local Bubba to paint the Sistine Chapel. I'm not Michelangelo.
My tantrum continued into the morning, becoming angsty to the point of defensiveness. "I'm just not going to do it!" I claimed, as I rubbed another layer of charcoal across the page. "She doesn't realize what she's asking. She think's I have nothing but time." Truth is, thats exactly what I have. But the thought of spending my time, my precious time, on such a worthless effort truly insults me. I am insulted by the monkey tasks I am required to complete each week "or else". Offended, appalled, and downright angry about it.
I don't know when I began to hate the drawing. While I've always preferred painting, I'm actually better at drawing. It's easier but also more time consuming. Painting is colorful, untidy, and often surprising. Drawing has to be more intentional and planned out. In case you hadn't noticed, I like the unpredictability of spontaneity. Maybe I'm crazy, (though I prefer the word "artsy") but Drawing is like the 9-5 desk job I've never wanted and Painting is like being a travel writer or a scuba instructor or even working on a vegetable farm.
Why the rant Laura? Well I don't know. After all that, (and I did finally complete the homework- in my car today, ten minutes before class) I drove out to the beach, putting off class until next week, and enjoying my Thursday afternoon as a untroubled twenty-something in search of adventure and unapologetic giggling. Call me what you'd like, but ignorance really is bliss.
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