Art Attack (On My Budget)


My favourite kind of person is that one who walks into the art supplies section of your school’s bookstore and tries out pens on a sheet of very public paper by penning down ironically sad, depressing poetry and leaving it there for all posterity. 

This really did happen today, and I was oddly amused and impressed. I should probably do the same. It’d be just like that Los Angeles street artist who scribbled down poetry on Post-It’s and stuck them all over town and on his Instagram. Except this would probably be cooler. 

Or it could be worse, because I’d be a bumbling perpetrator who couldn’t get off the crime scene: I have a massive affinity for art supplies, and every time I have to be in the bookstore, I end up staying in the stationery aisles for a solid half hour.

Heck, I’d probably be standing around admiring the pen I just scribbled with while everyone else reads through my incomprehensible scrawl and stares at me. 

(Incomprehensible is the very definition of university life. Am I relatable now, or what?)

We’re allowed to use our left over meal dollars at the bookstore, and I know that if I have any spare left when I’m graduating, I will come and blow it all on those specially handcrafted pigment liners: manga version, that come in seven different point sizes, because the lay comic book reader is So-o-o finely attuned to telling the difference between 0.6 mm tip and 0.7 one. And because as an Artist (TM), I should be horrified at having to compromise on that 0.1 millimeter. 

Vive le capitalisme!

(I’m just a broke, cynical pseudo-artist. Don’t mind me. The pens look good all the same.)

So if you see someone walking out with a ridiculously stuffed bookstore bag of pens with a gigantic, almost idiotically pleased smile on their face, you’ll know who it is. Come and say hi. Tell me something flattering about my baby blog and fan my ego. Or something. 

On a completely random note: has anyone ever successfully studied for a test the next day from inside their warm, cozy blanket, in bed, when it’s freezing so much that the Celsius and Fahrenheit naysayers both agree on the temperature, when it’s 1 AM, without falling asleep? What’s that you say? No? Oh well, just checking. 

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