I Felt Warm and Fuzzy

Earlier this week I had ventured to a nearby arts and crafts store to pick up some supplies for my painting class. I found what I needed and then stood in the painting aisle for awhile trying to see if there was anything else I may need in the coming months. Not knowing what lies ahead for me I picked up nothing else, but I stood there for a good twenty minutes perusing everything. I had tried getting everything for the class a week ago and just stood there with no idea what to by and did the standing-around-thing for an hour easy. Luckily my teacher took most of us to a store near campus to get the basics.

As I was looking around this week, with a slightly better idea of what I was doing, when a woman in her forties walked up to me with a quizzical look on her face. She meekly asked, "Are you an artist?" I stammered and said, "Sort of, but if you have an easy question I might be able to answer it for you." Of course, I couldn't answer it. I can perform a certain level of artistic duties, but my limit can be reached quite easily. Her question easily surpassed it. I'm hoping that this painting class will help elevate that limit, even if it's by a small amount.

My hippie/beatnik appearance is, obviously, fulfilling its purpose. I prefer my "look" not because of this though. I just don't like shaving and keeping my hair long keeps me from having to go in for monthly haircuts. Needless to say, I'm really lazy.