My First Bug

This is my first real attempt at life drawing. I know I have a long
way to go, but I'm hooked!

I'm taking an art class. My first real art class. I'm ecstatic. It's like learning to read or learning to spell. Maybe even more primal than that. Like all this time, all my past 40 some years, I've been silent and someone is finally showing me how to speak.

Its simple things really, that I'm learning, shading and tone and the way light falls on objects. I cant get enough. I'm sure I'm freaking the instructor out a little bit. Every time he comes by to show me something I'm bouncing up and down and practically drooling all over the paper. I'm so eager to learn MORE, MORE, MORE! I love sitting in class and listening to the way people talk about the stuff they make and the way they choose to do the things they do with their pencils and paintbrushes. I've never been a successful class taker. I might make the first one or two classes, but I'm hopeless and no mater how interesting the subject is I never seem to make past the third or fourth session before i loose interest and stop going. I don't think that's going to be the case this time.

In other news, I started to clean out my closets tonight. Closet cleaning is essential when you live in a house made in the 1970's, and its essential on a much more regular basis when you do as much impulse shopping as i do (bad, I know, very bad girl). Judging from the size of our closets, people in the 70's were about a foot shorter, 150 lbs lighter, and only owned about five pieces of clothing between the whole family. I succeeded in getting rid of a great many t-shirts and dresses and cute little skirts ( boo) but when it came to the jeans I just couldn't do it. I love my Abercrombie-size-eight-perfectly-broken-in-with-a real-honestly-won-hole-in-the-knee jeans! I cant fit into them at the moment, but i cling stubbornly to my "getting a tapeworm" fantasy, and I hope against hope that someday I'll wear them again.