I nervously thought of how I would ask this girl that I just met. We were talking about Cirque de Soleil at 10 in the morning. She was a fine arts student. I am in advertising.
Outside, the momentary center of our attention, the Cirque freeway billboard stood as it did before we talked about wanting to see it. So I figured I would ask to see her either before or after the show, so that we could talk about it.
I rehearsed it in silence thinking that I had a simple goal. To make a connection with someone who was placed there for me to meet in room 501 even though she was a fine arts student painting on the floor designated for advertising.
It was alright, she had said. She started going to the academy in the advertising department but because she had no time to draw or paint, she was made to choose her true love.
Too much concepting, she had said. What?, I had thought.
All I do is draw and paint (in Photoshop) when making addenda to my concepts. It's called putting flesh on the bone, lady!
Meanwhile, I'm cooking up my vague plan to "meet up with" her "before or after the show...so we could talk about it." I'm such a dork. What was she...15? No, about 21 or 22. But I digress. I should have the balls to strike up conversation AND have the mojo on call. And I can't walk away shaking my head...feeling shot down...not after years of experience and having snagged the prettiest, sexiest, least tameable, stunningly smart, most kwela women IN THE WORLD. And this girl with the swollen lips with the newsboy hat laid low over her brow sent me packin wit nuttin.
It's like highschool, I like to say. What I'm really doing is subconsciously trying to invoke the past...which is like the drug that you reach for in the middle of the night. Clawing at it. Trying to catch enough of the blue smoke that it leaves behind when your hand passes straight through it and it disappears.
Enough of that. I'm not in highschool anymore. I love my work too much to let it get sidetracked by heartache, longing, and daydreaming. So let's draw.
