First of all, it is now clear to me, after a year and a half that Foz (our tutor) has a minor penis obsession. All his drawings have at least one lurking somewhere. (So do mine) but he also reads any long cylindrical object as a penis and any blobs of paint as sperm. This is both slightly worrying and endearing at the same time. I blame his vibes for the perversion rampant among the illustrators.
Christmas time is a season of guilt. Not joy, not merriness, no, but big fat GUILT.
There’s guilt eating, guilt drinking and of course, guilt shopping: Where you feel compelled to buy people stuff only because you know they’ll emotionally blackmail you if you don’t.
This then deludes you into the belief that you need to reward yourself unnecessarily for all your wonderful selflessness and you rationalize it by saying,
“Oh well I haven’t bought A THING for myself ALL year…”
and you KNOW it’s a blatant lie but you shamelessly swallow it all and buy yet more shoes.
Why why why Janine?
It was all that damn Xmas shopping for the family. It triggered off some endorphin haze of compulsive purchasing. I HATE XMAS. I didn’t need the boots. But they were from the kiddie section at Ravel (the best bit) Half the time they don’t have your size so when they do you feel utterly compelled to buy them, and they were so pretty and so cute and the heel was not as high as in the adult section. It wasn’t my fault. It was Christmas.
Spent the last two days screen printing. Even before the legionella outbreak I hadn’t been in the print room and I had pretty much had forgotten everything I’d learnt in induction.
Luckily, being a numbur vun stoodent I had typed out all my notes and bullet pointed them.
Even Georgina, the most highly organized student in our class (she has folders, files, photo albums plus all sorts of boxes to house miscellaneous stuff. Everything has a place and a place there is for everything.)
Even SHE was shocked I had printed and bullet pointed my notes.
Around every fifth or sixth bullet point or so there was typed in big caps
“DO NOT DO SO&SO OR YOU WILL TEAR THE SCREEN!!”
So of course, I tore the screen.
I felt so guilty. I was ‘torn’ between confessing my sins or just washing up, sneaking the screen onto the rack and hoping to goodness no one would notice. Muz (the printmaking tutor and NOT the same as Foz) came into the spray booth a couple of times to yell at this other girl for spraying in the wrong way and my heart lurched into my small intestine.
Finally after 5 minutes of absolutely nerve racking guilt I confessed to the French technician lady who was surprisingly nice about it. I made sure Muz was no where around at the time of my confession. I was terrified he’d yell. He had already yelled at me once in the afternoon and seems perpetually cranky.
On an unrelated note: Yesterday while I was touching up my pre-screen print on the light box two BA graphics students came by and started chatting. This Aussie guy pointed to a character wearing a dildo in my drawing and said
“Ha-ha that’s me in our advertising seminar. It was a photo we made into a poster”.
I assumed, naturally, that he was gay.
What was really weird was that he and his friend started taking photos to me working on the light box. After briefly consulting each other, he asked me if I’d like a copy.
Being the self involved bitch that I am, naturally I said
“Ooooh yes please! I’ll give you my email”
to which the Malaysian girl replied coyly
“You could give him your number too”.
At the time this rather stunned me. Aussie guy ignored the remark and so did I but either Malaysian girl was mistaken or my gaydar must be way way, way off. I’m obviously out of practice. This is bad. Very very bad.