Inky Orchard

Wheee! I love Tuesdays. Another backward thing about college – I normally dislike Tuesdays and Thursdays because they’re even days in the middle of the week. I like my endcaps. Odd days are good. Usually.

I just got back from 2D with my first grade!

I’m happy. Also, the “critique” of my first drawing (yesterday) was generally positive… as far as I can tell from the few things my professor told me. For once in my life, FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER, value was not a problem. This is huge you guys. I draw so lightly. I have such a hard time pushing it.

Hmmm… And these are some thumbnails I worked on today in 2D. We are doing our next project on rhythm and space – these are my rhythm designs:

But they are not quite good enough yet. They are too three-dimensional.

And in Drawing II we are starting a still life in colored pencil – but with dramatic atmosphere. So this should be 100% interesting, since I have extremely limited experience using colored pencil. Eeep! Kinda nervous. But all these new things are kind of exhilirating.

Okay. So my smoke alarm decided it wanted to be an alarm clock this morning. And I got to see firsthand exactly what Christine meant when she told me she’s cut out for the medical field. The alarm went off at 6:20.

Christine’s reaction: Rachel – why’d you change your alarm?

My reaction: whuuuh?

Christine: (leaps out of bed, springs into action)

Me: What’s going on? (couldn’t decide whether it was necessary to evacuate the building… so I fanned the air around the detector and it finally ceased splitting my ears open)

We think it’s the air conditioner. It turned the heat on by itself and it smells horrible in here. So. That was quite the wake-up.

My pants won’t stay up today and my shirt won’t stay down. Bad combination.

I finally got some new sketchbooks in the mail and I am so excited to have their smooth linen covers in my hands!

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On a more serious note. Last night I was extremely lonely. I had just come back from Drawing II – though it felt more like Color Theory – I traded Prisma Colors for friends. We shared my set between three people and now they are half their original size – BUT – I made two friends named Caitlin. One talks without speaking – she is so quiet. The other is a fibers major who is obsessed with creating little things all the time (just like me! at Christmastime!) which she sells on Etsy. We talked through the whole class period (coloring swatches: x_x) and on the bus ride home. But when I got back, Christine was out. And I felt myself start missing my family – for the tiniest reason. I wanted to touch them. Human touch is a pretty amazing thing… something I am lacking here, as I slowly accumulate new friends – like the first snowflakes on a bare grassy ground. I miss zipping down the stairs just to put my arms around Mayo while he Facebooks his free time away. I miss headbutting Dad in the shoulder region. I miss making my squinchy face for Momma. I miss rubbing Pepper’s ears until my hands are black and grimy. I need(ed) a hug. A hand. Anything. Touch tingles my frozen fingertips when I don’t feel alive – when I start allowing things to blur together – day by day. Minutes. Seconds. I run my hands over smooth banisters and along dirty drawing desks. But those things don’t feel back. We need people to remind us that we’re here – still breathing, still changing – even when we are stuck. I am still here. My blood circulates. My breathing is cyclical. Reaching out for more has got to be the most basic human reaction. Toddlers for food, children for toys, teenagers for acceptance, lovers for affirmation, old-timers for … meaning. We all need it. And when we don’t find it, we look for it in others. Mirrored or in the mirror itself.