Wednesday, 30 May 2012

Deborah is tired

This is the line my erudite and verbose art teacher used to excuse my inane daubings today in art class.

I went on a Wednesday as I was indisposed last night. For indisposed read staring at a wall with exhaustion. Working for a living sure is tiring.

So I went on a Wednesday. I was mildly curious to see what would be different about the Wednesday group. Turns out the music is a lot better and the whole vibe is different. I liked it.

What remains the same is my drastic inability to be able to draw from real life. Comfortingly there were some more beginners, which makes me feel slighty less like a monkey holding charcoal and jabbing randomly at an easel. Only slightly less, mind.

Being almost too tired to stand up for two hours didn't help either.

At the end we turned our easels round in order to discuss our efforts. This is where your heart sinks slightly. Whatever misplaced pride you may have built up while hacking away at the paper is quickly banished at the sight of some properly excellent renditions of the naked lady on the floor.

Said teacher goes round the group pointing out successes and new techniques.

When he came to mine he graciously excused my fuckwittage by explaining that I was very tired. I'm not sure it was enough of an excuse but it'll do me.

Imagine what I could have achieved if fully refreshed. A picture that's in proportion and doesn't resemble a squished alien perhaps.

Still, there's always next time.

Afterwards we went to the pub. This felt like a proper novelty. In a PUB. With PEOPLE. Talking to other PEOPLE. Who aren't my CAT. Amazing.

For some reason people started guessing what the others do for a living. I got: something in marketing, working on a till and a call centre operator.

Huh.

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