Mondays make me want to puke. I hate them. They are awful. If I could find out a way to successfully off Mondays without making Tuesday the new Suckday I totally would.
I woke up this morning and by the gut feeling I received of 'I-just-want-to-stay-in-bed-all-day' I could just tell that it was not going to be my favorite of all favorite days either. But I examined myself in the mirror before I left for class and was impressed with what I saw.
Because I'm narcissistic and I know it.
Anyway, I was all hippity hoppity down the stairs with my portfolio and pink backpack in tow, and then I looked outside, sighed, and pulled my hood over my head. So much for my straightened hair and shoes that matched my belt. Welcome soaked pant legs and disgruntled wavy strands of stringy fine hair.
I was starving because I'm all sorts of cool and don't eat breakfast in morning. My half thought out plan was that of heading to the coffee shop in the Commons, but the line was like DisneyLand the day after Christmas and I thought "No way in heck am I waiting here."
So I jetted myself all the way over to the Admin building where I work because I know that the lines are never near as long and the coffee is way better. I ordered a croissant that I promptly stuffed in my face and slurped down my 24 oz iced white chocolate blackberry mocha with four shots so that I would wake up.
I was late to class by a few minutes, but no one noticed. We listened to some presentations (I have to give one on Wednesday!) and then we drew.
I produced these:
They're not so bad, eh? I actually like the last one. His face pleases me. And it reaffirmed my love of drawing fabric with charcoal. I got it all over myself again though. So this time I was black and white and red all over, not unlike that bad joke that either ends with the punch line of a zebra with a rash or a newspaper. Whatever, I'm still awesome.
Design Processing II is a class I would love to just ditch, except that I need to go because I can't risk the absences and if I don't go then I would never do the work because I hate it so much that having homework is just not an option unless absolutely necessary.
We are painting. I loathe painting. I mean, it would be fun if I wasn't out to recreate something exactly to every minute detail like we're doing here:
The one on the left is my painted version of the one on the right. One of the hardest, most time consuming things I've done in my life. I'm pretty sure I could have baked three cakes in the time it's taken me to mix every color just so. And they don't even all match! It drives me crazy. Absolutely bonkers. And I'm most of the way there on a good day, so it just pushes me farther over the edge.
Besides that, the stools in that class make your poor little butt cheeks so sore. Every so often you have to stand up and stretch your back from being hunched over while trying to nonchalantly massage your buttocks because they've decided to fall asleep and refuse to wake up.
It makes for some pretty good times. I had to work to keep from falling asleep.
I left class at 5:20 so I could come home and eat dinner. I got in line to get a pretzel and an Italian sausage because it just sounded so delicious and Prince Charming was working, so my pretzel would be handed to me with love.
Bob's keeps their silverware in these round black cylinders next to the food stations for easy grabability and convenience. I was in dire need of a fork and a knife, so while I attempted to balance my tray full of food on one hand and grab the important utensils with the other, an impatient young lad came up behind me. He seemed to be in all sorts of a hurry, as if maybe he was on fire or something was on fire or flooding and he desperately needed to grab a fork to help pry open a container housing an extinguisher or maybe the book with all the answers to life's big questions in it and his timer was running dangerously low.
I'm not exactly sure.
But whatever the reason behind his maddened speed, he knocked my tray out of my hand and before I could successfully utilize my mad agility skills yo the tray had fallen on the ground food side down of course, because landing food side up would have been too much to ask entirely.
Mustard and liquid cheese splash on the floor. The boy just huffed and kind of rolled his eyes. He looked conflicted, like maybe he should help me out, but then he remembered the fire or flood or time emergency and darted off.
Snarky remarks flowed in my head, but who was I going to say them to? Then I just looked around with that all too familiar deer in the headlights look on my face as I knelt down to pick up the fallen food. Managers stopped and told me not to worry about it. They were super nice, and saw what happened so they didn't speak to me with blame filled voices which I greatly appreciated.
I hopped back in line and was redistributed my allotment of dietary sustenance. Prince Charming was confused why I was back in front of him, so I had to quickly explain myself. I took the wasted food to the trash can and proceeded to nom my deliciously tasty Italian sausage dipped in mustard.
I do love mustard. It's yummy.
The rest of my night has been filled with homework like this:
And I'm working on my presentation for Wednesday on the artist Chuck Close. His stuff is pretty awesome, and when I learned that he can still paint after becoming a quadriplegic his awesome factor went through the roof. It's dangling somewhere around the outer atmosphere. It would be higher, but I have to present him to my class, which I will hate doing.
I think it's time for bed now. Tomorrow better be awesome or I might just cry.