Your Robin feelings say a lot about your worldview.
Riddle me this: Is Robin a giant, frigging liability? Or is he a cutie patootie that contributes to your enjoyment of Batman?
As an introvert and kind of a jerk, my battle is often: “Do I want to be lonely? Should I let people in — at the expense that they may annoy me or depend on me more than I’d like?”
Having other people around means a lot of things:
– You have to help friends move.
– You have friends to help you move.
– You have to pet-sit.
– You have someone to bring you a cookie when you’re in a bad mood.
– You get baby-barf on your shirts.
– You wind up listening to other people’s uninteresting problems about their dead parents.
– Other people listen to your uninteresting problems about your dead parents.
– The Joker might kidnap your friends, and you have to save them.
– Two-Face might try to drown you in sand, and they have to save you.
– Friends are free, unlike butlers, whom you must pay.
I honestly oscillate between loving and hating Robin.
Usually I want to push Robin off a cliff for being useless.
I’ve taken this as a sign that I should stick to a job that provides a lot of alone time.
Do you ever straight-up forget about fundamental parts of yourself?
Because I do. All the time. Stuff like “I like to draw.”
Which is pretty basic and has been the case since I was a little kid.
I briefly considered giving up in middle school because my art teacher was always on my business about my “loose” style. She also demanded more “tonal values.” My inability to understand shadows was a hindrance, I now realize, but she was really a spirit killer.
Every once in a while, I lapse into not-drawing, and watch my brain fizzle out.
When I’m coloring in a big-haired doodle, I remember how good things can be. Like so:
This is an illustration of an introvert realizing she’s absolutely not at the party. It’s everywhere but near her. She is awash in FOMO. Sounds like my life.
Buddha says, “eat your vegetables.” This child (a youth version of my husband?) is having none of it.
This guy kinda looks like Grandpa from the Munsters. That wasn’t intentional. It’s possible that I’m always channeling the Munsters. (Or their more sleek, uptown neighbors, the Addams Family.)
(Thanks, Internet, for providing me with this image.)
Once a Goth, always a Goth. Once an illustrator, always an illustrator.
If you have any core personality traits you blank on, feel free to throw ’em in the comments.
Single people: stop saying there are “no single guys” where you live.
That’s not true. There are plenty of single men near you.
Just not many that you’d let past the velvet rope into the exclusive club that is your lady-stuff. (Or man-stuff. You know. Stuff.)
I’ve hunted very carefully in your town, and I’d like you to know I’ve found a few eligible bachelors to try out.
If you can get past his belief that the media is a tool of the New World Order to keep the masses in line, this guy is a spontaneous, compassionate lover.
He will expand your intellectual horizons and help you become better at arguing. You will dump him via text.
He seems like a time-traveler from the future. It’s probably the ray-gun arm that gives that impression.
In keeping with the notion of personal growth (ha!), I’ve been working on illustrations of things I don’t know how to draw. (I tried architecture, and it was a disaster.)
Today’s subject is…
You know, those painted wood creatures that sit on the front of old ships. Usually they’re boobie ladies:
Now that the boobs brought in your attention, I’d like to throw some facts up in your business. Then we’ll look at some more drawings.
1. Sometimes people built ones that were so big that they fucked up their ships’ ability to function normally. Oops.
2. Old-timey Germans, Belgians, & Dutch people thought that Kaboutermannekes (water fairies) lived inside them.
3. Some people believed that the figurehead expressed symbolically that the ship was a living thing. The eyes on the figurehead served the ship itself.
4. Most sailors were illiterate, and used the symbolic identifiers to locate ships.
5. Many mastheads had exposed breasts because “a naked woman was supposed to be able to calm a storm at sea.”
But sometimes the figureheads were tragically boob-less dudes:
And occasionally they were super-prissy:
Branching out can be the goddamn worst.
Lately I’ve been trying to do things I suck at, or straight-up don’t know how to do. I’ve been experimenting with crochet, and yesterday I tried making work lunches for the week ahead of time.
I also tried drawing some buildings, because I can’t.
A part of me thought, “maybe if I try drawing buildings, I’ll discover that I’m a natural! Maybe I’ll really love it.”