Art Meets Science, Sort of

This past week I kept seeing that commercial for the correspondence art school that has you draw the bear as your application- as a kid it was advertised in the back of magazines. I'm sure you'd recognize it if you saw it. Anyway, I always thought it was funny, and for whatever reason I googled it. It turns out a correspondence art school certificate will cost you a cool $3485, but that does include books and supplies. And they do offer scholarships. Well. I really had no choice but to request more information.

I'm absolutely dying to see the application. I have every intention of applying (assuming there is no application fee), despite the fact that I lack any artistic skill or talent. I did invest in a drawing book, so I could put forth my best effort when I draw the infamous bear.

The first exercise is drawing your own feet. I went out and bought fancy-pants drawing pencils, a gum eraser, and a sketch book. Then I drew my feet.


Fucking terrible, as expected. But hey, the point is to have a bit of fun and maybe learn something new.

The next night I had an idea. I was going to get plastered and see how well I would do then. I honestly thought it would just be funny. So I picked up some beer.

Yesterday after work, I had some dinner and got to drinking. I redid the feet exercise after just 2 beers.


Yup, still awful. But what if I keep drinking? Sick of looking at my feet, I decided to switch to Spencer...


Hmm. If you've seen any of my previous attempts to sketch my dog, you'd probably agree this is an improvement. Interesting. I think it was at this point that I decided popping a Xanax might help. Also perhaps a shot of whiskey.


Spencer up close, and better still! I could be onto something. Then I remembered another exercise in the book- drawing your own hand. More booze!


Ok. I really think that this is not bad for someone with zero training and devoid of artistic talent. Now I'm in trouble because I want to keep getting shit faced to see what else I can draw. Sadly, I imagine very few hospitals accept crappy sketches in lieu of payment for liver transplants.

Three or four months of adventures, one post!‏

Now that I’ve lured you in with a promising title, the bait and switch: there are no adventures, really. I’m quite dull. But read this anyway, because I’m also odd and do stupid crap- it might turn out to be funny. Or sad. Or both.

Work has been super hectic. I think there may be a plot to kill me with a combination of stress and exhaustion. I’ve accrued roughly 4 weeks of vacation time that I need to take by the end of the year, but I have no time to take it- they’re keeping me too busy. I had serious thoughts about taking off all of December, but I think that might make my boss’s head explode. Which would be fine, except then I’d have to deal with the customers and I don’t want that at all.

My apartment community is getting new siding, windows, and sliding doors. Mostly this is awesome- my apartment's windows and door are already done, and they are much quieter. I like this. The downside is threefold: First, they start working at 8 am which sucks ass if you're trying to sleep in because you worked a 16 hour day, came home and consumed a buttload of caffeine without thinking about it, and subsequently didn't get to sleep until almost 3 am. Second, a few of the Latino workers say things as I pass by that include "mi amore" and "perrito," but I don't understand the rest. I hope they're saying nice things. And third, sometimes navigating to and from my front door requires more coordination than I am capable of (especially first thing in the morning). It is fortunate that I am lithe and have good balance- I've had to carry a furious, squirming pug over boxes of new siding and piles of old siding, around scaffolding, and under ladders. The guys are pretty good about trying to clear a path for me, but sometimes getting home involves movements reminiscent of interpretive dance.

Last weekend was deliciously lazy, but sometimes sleeping very late means forgetting to take my meds. It was placebo week for the most important pill, and with my guard down I plumb forgot about the Zoloft. For three days. Oops. On the bright side, it lead to an interesting Sunday. What follows is an exerpt of my thoughts on that day:

My face tingles.
Lolol!!1! Wait, why am I laughing?
I can't stop moving.
It's hot in here.
Pacing is good.
I'm cold.
I should knit something.
I can't think straight! What's wrong with my brain!
Why is it so bright out? Fuck off, sun!
Why can't I remember yesterday?
I'm so hungry! Eat all the things!
What was that noise!?
I can't stop moving. Why can't I stop moving?
It's hot in here.
Must pace more. More!
My neck hurts. What if I have meningitis!?!?
I can't sleep.
I'm should go to infomercial art school!
I think my face just crawled away.
I still can't sleep.
I feel dizzy.
Maybe I should knit a t-shirt for this little Dracula guy.



And that's what Zoloft withdrawal feels like! I was pretty freaked out until I realized what was going on, but by Monday morning I felt normal again. It was then that I also realized that I may have had a slightly manic episode on Saturday. My memory is pretty crappy, but at some point I decided that I needed to strip little tins, apply a toner resist, salt-water etch them, and then copper plate them. My fun with science was super cool for a few hours, but then I got bored (classic Amanda) when I realized I needed a stronger paint stripper, and even unpainted tins have some sort of clear coating on them (I presume to make them rust-proof). I really do need some sort of supervision...

The giant bottle of copper sulfate pool cleaner


The first lid with the toner resist


Two nine volt batteries, wired together


The first lid in the electrified salt water solution, after about 5 minutes


And after a couple of hours


Front to back, these are the etched lid, copper plated lid, and an untouched lid


Basically nothing worked very well because the lids were coated. I figured that out afterward. The best part of the whole thing was the look on the guy's face at the pool supply store when I tried to explain what I was going to do. Anyhow, next time I try this I'm going to need some very strong paint stripper and I think a bigger battery- I drained those two nine volts pretty quick.

I had one more fun experiment to tell you about, but I think it should have it's own post. Stay tuned.