Creamed spinach, small "yippy" dogs, almost every assignment Alvin Petitt has assigned, people who won't shut up about there girlfriend/boyfriend, Bill Belicheck, New York Giants fans, the little plastic nozzle inside liquor bottles, people who tell me smoking is bad for me, people who just won't get a clue, steroids, Tom Hicks, people who say the Rolling Stones are better than the Beatles, movies that are made before the source material is finished (Bad-ass), relentless cold weather, etc. I could go on for days with this shit.
Anyway, I've got back into a pretty good groove with my work lately. Specifically, I'm much more confidant when I'm inking with a brush now. I've refined my technique to where I feel I have pretty good control with line weights. I 'm by no means a "Sean Gardan Mahffie" (if you don't get it, don't worry about) but I'm enjoying it more. Andy Kubert is teaching me alot about how to handle the brush, so that's good. In addition to the inking, my other classes are going pretty well too. At home, I'm able to just sit down and work for hours without getting tired and frustrated like I did a lot during first semester. School is good.
Another thing that just popped into my head, I'm feeling more and more at home, away from home. I feel like I'm distancing myself from my life back in Dallas. It kinda scares me, but at the same time makes me feel like I'm growing up. My "professional" life always seemed like years away, but it seems to be creeping up on me faster and faster these days. I'm kinda relieved to tell you the truth. I don't want to be relying on my parents forever. I hope to get a house or apartment with a couple of friends next year and think i'll probably stay in the area after I graduate next year. I hate the area, but it seems like it is the place to be to get started in this crazy business we call comics. Fuck! I really do hate the northeast.
Anyway, that's it. Gonna have a smoke, and I don't care that it's bad for me.
Oh, and we'll miss you fellow Adam.
Later y'all . . .
Devious Comments
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I do what I do . . .
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