No. 21

I went on a mission today.
I showed up early at work by accident. I thought I worked at 2, but I worked at 3, so I decided to go buy girly things that I can't afford and don't need and shouldn't be buying. I wanted to buy bras, lipstick, and shoes.
I couldn't find shoes because god forbid there should be a store with remotely nice shoes in tall person size [and I am not picky with shoes either, in that I wear pretty much exclusively six dollar Giant Tiger skimpy tennis shoes].
I did find bras and lipstick, and then I was so overcome with guilt at having bought such ridiculous things that I immediately went to Wallacks and emptied out fifty bones on oil paints.

And so it begins.

I'm actually really afraid of this oil paint era I'm about to embark upon. I hear that shit dries at the speed grass grows. Slower even. I am an impatient bastard. And I paint quickly. Luckily I got the water-soluble kind, which apparently dries somewhat faster?, but I also got some weird medium that I may or may not actually need. I bought it anyway just to be safe. I don't know how this shit works, but I used my pepere's oil paints once when I was like 11, and I painted on a piece of printer paper. There was a big old pthalo green wet spot on that paper [and everything beneath it] for a solid two weeks, from what I remember. I've been afraid of oil paints ever since.

Now that I'm no longer 11 or retarded [that's actually up for debate] I will be using said paints on canvases or gessoed wood panels. BUT STILL. I'm scurrred.
But good things come to those who are horrified, right?


Anyway. I am super tired and my whole sketelon wants to punch my head in the face but I'll likely start with the big bad oils tomorrow night apres travaille. I hope I draw something decent tomorrow at work. I feel so hit or miss all the time.

I wish I was more consistent and knew what I was doing. Goddamn you, distrustful right hand.
I really should have been a lefty.