School Days,
School Days
Dear old Golden Rule days....

And so, it begins. The School Year is now in full swing, and once again things have been really hectic the last couple of days, and so both this journal and any semblance I have of a life have suffered for it. This journal has suffered because I've had precious little time to sit down, much less do any typing. Life has suffered because darn it -- that's what life does!

Tuesday was Powerbook Turn-Out. This is when we take all the computers we collected last June, plus all the computers we've received over the summer, and hand them to the students while requiring them to sign contracts and admonishing them against being stupid.

The admonishment won't work, of course. It never does. I've already got no less than seven machines in the office. (By me, I mean Mason, who's doing an incredible job during one of the more tense times of the year). Students enjoy doing stupid things.

We've also got the new Brewster Web Site heavily developed at this point, thanks to Van, but that's also sucking up lots of my time. And the million little details and questions and complaints I need to deal with on a constant basis have started back up – my work e-mail's increased by a factor of twelve in the last couple of days. There's policy to be made!

To that end, I now have an office white board. I feel so professional now. I also have an office bulletin board, on the principle that it's probably not good for the wall to have all those tacks driven into it any longer.

Tuesday night I also had my first drawing class. It was a huge amount of fun, and I got filthy.

You see, art classes take place in rooms where, gasp, people do art-things. As a result, there's charcoal dust and graphite dust and Heaven knows what else everywhere in those rooms. I was covered in black powder within ten minutes of class, which didn't show up at all on the black shirt I happened to be wearing, but the light tan khakis suffered as a result.

Remember all those pencils I mentioned? You use them. All of them. They kind of form the backbone of the picture. You start with an HB pencil (think #2 pencil, only more expensive and without an eraser on the end), sketching out the basic shape after lightly putting in guide likes to make sure it balances. Say, something really exciting like a cube. Then you start to put in the shading to give the cube depth. The 2H, HB, 2B and 4B let's you fill in the close, darkest side, with gradients of increasing shadow as you go (and maybe some reflected light on the other side). You layer the shades on top of each other to blend them, using the kneadable eraser (which I'm convinced is the greatest invention of Western Civilization other than the breadmaker) to take out errant lines or smudges. The 2H, HB and 4H lets you do the same on the face that's facing the light, more or less, giving you a much lighter gradient. You leave the top blank so that it looks white, and boom – you have 3D, all ready for Q*Bert to jump down and make a plopping sound on.

I rock at cubes, and I'm darn good with cylinders, including reflected light. Cones are a bit of a pain in the neck and take a lot more time. Spheres suck, and I suck at them.

But so far, for an abject beginner, I don't completely suck myself. The teacher complimented the form I'd managed to do.

That's very very nice and very unexpected. I mean, I've never been able to draw a straight line before. My penmanship is atrocious. Everyone knew I sucked. Including me.

Well. I'll never be Picasso or Da Vinci, but maybe I don't suck. Maybe, in fact, I just needed to believe I could do it and the practice. It'll be a long time before I can sketch a face or something like that, but I'm beginning to think I could actually get there. And that's cool.

Last night, after my twice-monthly ritual of depositing money in the bank, I went out to get additional art supplies (to cover my gaps, namely, pencil sharpeners. Who knew? I mean, sure, I know pencils go dull, but you expect that a school will have those things. And now I know better). This started a comical "driving around Portsmouth looking for an open art supply store" which ultimately led me to the mall.

Hey! They've got one! Excellent!

So, I picked up lots more pencils (I'm going to have a set at the office and a set at home, so if I get the urge to practice my spheres I can), erasers, a couple more sketch-pads (smaller than my school one, which is large enough to build a paper house out of) and little cases I can put my stuff into. I also got a paper portfolio with a handle I can slip my big pad of paper into and more easily carry it to class.

And I went to the brand spanking new Barnes and Noble at the mall area. Which looks just exactly like every other Barnes and Noble. For gigantic superstores, I personally prefer Borders and their selection (and their café. Starbucks has never thrilled me. I learned that there are better coffee chains whilst out in Seattle). Where Barnes and Noble rocks is their comfortable chairs. You find a book, you sit in a comfortable chair, and you read.

I found one – The Pretty Good Jim's Journal Treasury: The Definitive Collection of Every Published Cartoon. So I read some, and then I bought it.

"Jim" is actually Scott Dikkers, who is also the editor in chief of The Onion, the most savagely funny newspaper on the planet. ("Sony unveils black-matte box with red and green lights.") However, it's not his journal. It's just, since it's Jim's Journal, Jim must be the one writing it. This treasury contains all five of the published collections of Jim's Journal.

What is it?

Well... it's... um....

It's existential, I guess. He describes it as anti-humor. It's utterly mundane – every word of it. Sometimes, there are classic "comic strip" jokes, but they're told in the textual equivalent of monotone. The point of the humor isn't "this is a funny joke" but "isn't it funny that we'd find this was a funny joke if we were trying?" And sometimes, you get moments of pure mundane life that people resonate with.

If you've ever seen Andy Kaufman's classic comedy routine where he gets up on stage and begins reading The Great Gatsby, utterly straight, you know the kind of anti-humor Dikkers is going for with Jim's Journal. It's a great scene, because it says as much about stand-up comedy and what we think is funny as it does about the joke itself, which is "Andy Kaufman goes on national television and reads from The Great Gatsby, telling no jokes).

Lots of people hate Jim's Journal, Dikkers himself admits. I find it at once wonderful and yet as relaxing as a deep body massage, only for my brain. It's the polar opposite of Zippy the Pinhead in every possible way and therefore I think Zippy fans will love it.

Also, for a long time, Jim works at a Copy Store, which is also what I did for a long time. The strips about the Copy store are utterly perfect. However, Dikkers never worked at a copy store. He just assumed the work would be mindless and the drone of copy machines would promote a disconnected feeling, which is perfect for Jim's Journal.

He's utterly right, of course.

Anyway, if you see it, pick it up and read about four pages worth of strips. You won't laugh out loud. You probably won't even find it funny. But if you catch yourself reading a fifth page, buy it. You're hooked.

Tuesday night, after class, I found myself incredibly tired, but as my work pants were filthy, I needed to do laundry. But I fell asleep about nine times while waiting for the dryer.

Last night, I got in around ten (just in time for South Park), and fell asleep right afterward. I'm still exhausted today. Powerbook Turn-out will do that to you.

Tonight and tomorrow, and from this point forward, I'm covering study hall in one of the dorms. It's a taste of extra cash and a way to be a part of the program. I'll bring the powerbook and hang out. Maybe I'll bring a sketchbook too, and work on spheres. I will get this....