Tales of a Germophobic Psychopath

     There once was a girl named Courtney who was afraid of germs. In fact, she just had a running in with germs just a few minutes ago. It wasn't as terrible as one might believe, but it was in fact really frightening. When she expected the tangy taste of lemonade to touch her lips, she was met instead with some strange, overly sweet soda drink from the straw of another cup. How could she not have noticed that the cup was made of paper and not the clear plastic covered in the cold condensation that constantly made the cup slide down the table?

     So that was the story. Anna left her drink within my reach, I took it, and I drank from it. My mouth is now scarred for life. 

     You see, I've always had an aversion for germs. They freak me out. They make people sick. Now, I understand that a certain amount of germs is good for the immune system. Still, too many from the wrong people could give one some sort of intensely deadly disease that they may never recover from. I prefer to stay disease-free.

    In general, I avoid human beings. Not only are they rather stupid (or at the least ones who drive in Atlanta, as they seem to suddenly have an aversion to intelligence and courtesy as much as I have an aversion to germs), but they have the slightest clue to how to be clean. Wash your hands. It's not that difficult.

    My ideas seem to be rather lacking lately. Perhaps it's due to the fact that I was just overrun by germs in my mouth area. I'm not sure. That's probably it. Beware the germs.

    I found out the area where the guy with the horse lives.

Perfection is nonexistent in the eyes of an artist

     I had a strange and sudden urge today. It took me a few minutes to actually realize what it was. In fact, it's still bubbling up inside of me. So, what is it?

     It's the desire to get better.

     As an artist, there is nothing that you produce that will ever truly be "perfect." It can be close, it can be perfect to someone else, but it will never be up to your own standards. Artists are perfectionists. If an artist doesn't strive for perfection or higher quality of their works, can they even be called an artist? (While "yes" is a clear answer to this, as "artist" tends to be a connotative term, I refuse to call myself a true or professional artist unless I am striving for greatness.)

     Looking at the works of my peers really hit me hard. I've been slacking off. For several months, I've been merely content with my level of skill. Then I realized that my skill set is very particular. I have little experience drawing technical things or architecture. I can't draw animals as well as I would love to. I don't even draw people perfectly, but I've been drawing them enough that it isn't so hard as it used to be. (Some people are great at animals and are terrible at people, while I'm quite the opposite.)

     Something I look forward to striving for is expanding my skill set, primarily through animals. (Once I become more proficient at that, I will move on.) I can't seem to do the creatures of nature justice with overexaggerated proportions. The best way to improve drawing anything is to practice drawing from life. 

     But there isn't exactly a tiger sitting outside right now, so I will draw from photographs. I'd always heard that drawing from life would teach you an immense amount, but I never thought I could do it well and so avoided it. When I did humble myself and my oversized ego, I improved within a matter of days. It really surprised me how much these photos taught me. I used to think learning from illustrations helped me most (which it did for a time, as it showed me what lines are typically drawn), but they didn't teach me proper proportions or movement. Learning from those drawings should have been complementary to what I'm learning, not be the teacher. I know this now and will be putting this idea to good use, especially as I go through college. 
I want to be professional. I want to be great. Most of all, I want to be the best at what I do. But for an artist, perfection is nonexistent.

     ...I saw the guy on the horse again.

A guy and a horse

     Hello, audience (if there are any of you actually out there).

     I realize it has been some time since I actually posted a blog. For this, I apologize. You see, I'm going to start college in just over a week, and I've been worrying about trying to get in contact with SOMEONE at the school. Unfortunately, the Art Institutes are notorious for not checking their voicemail inboxes. It's absolutely brilliant.

     I've found something to write to pass my time without internet. I do enjoy roleplaying and writing novels from those roleplays.

     Oh. Here's the Crazy Random Happenstance of the week. (Or of last week.)

     I was minding my own business as I drove to Walmart. Now, in the back of the parking lot (where I enter with my car, or in this case, my mother's car) there are those donation boxes. I almost ran into one. Why? I not only did a single take and a double take, no, sir, I did a triple take. Why?

     There was a guy on his horse riding through the parking lot. I know that I live in a rural area, but really? Now, not to be racist or anything, but he was black. I only know one black person who owns a horse, and he does not act ghetto in the least.

     This rather threw me off.

     So, here's a tidbit from my life now. I finally have a car. Its name is Loki. (Yes, yes, LOKI WILL BETRAY ME! But have faith, my friends.) Its name is Loki because Locust the Focus is a rather terrible name. Loki sounds much better in terms of...sounding good. I do so love him though, and this is why I am convinced he will not betray me.

     (Hello, mother of Shawn. Good to see you, too. Are you going to the game toni- oh, you walked away. Thank you. Good bye.)

     Well, I think that leaves us at a good place for now. If there are any questions you wish to ask me, just ask me. I do like my readers so very much, and I wish to hear from you more.

First introductions

I recently watched the (incredible) movie, Julie & Julia. Actually, I'll admit that I just finished it not ten minutes ago. That is what inspired this.

Now, I've never actually done a blog before. In fact, I'm not entirely sure what a blog is. However, I am willing to try to make this interesting for whatever internet-goers care enough to read this.

I have before done blog-like...things. I'm (somewhat) active on deviantART and thus post semi-regular journals on my page there. But that's a journal. This is a blog. Is there a difference? Well, the words are different. Perhaps they're synonyms, but for my purposes here, I'm going to try something different as I go about my day-to-day life.

I have but one goal for this blog: to make my life sound much more interesting than it probably already is.

Now, I won't do introductions. Instead I prefer my audience get to know me on a more personal basis. Over time you will come to know and love (or hate, depending on who you are and what you like to read, in which case, if you don't like this, why would you read it?) me and my surroundings just as much as I love and-slash-or hate them. That's right. There is no middle ground.

One thing you may come to find is that my style of writing may change. This usually depends upon my mood, my depth of thought, and who I've been talking to as some people tend to stimulate my more formulaic functioning. (As you can see, I've managed to demonstrate that.)

Typically, I'm a quite simple person. Fresh out of high school and more than excited to start my Fall quarter at the Art Institute of Atlanta, you guessed it: I'm a lowly young adult. (Apparently my brain cannot function enough to spell the word “adult” while it can in fact spell “formulaic” without a problem. Perhaps there's a lapse in communication between my fingers and my brain?) “Lowly” might not be the right word in my case. While I do run on the more average height, I'm not really scraping the streets for a bite to eat. I consider myself a fortunate person with plenty of pleasures in life while also suffering from the griping problems of middle-middle class. (Such as griping about the horrible quality of my incredibly stupid smartphone.)

As another warning ahead of time, I do have a tendency to interject with strange and unusual thoughts. Moreover, it fits the actual title of my blog that currently lacks that artistic uniqueness. One idea that I have been given is to tell the world about the most random thing that happened to me that day. In addition, I think I might try to completely blow the situation out of proportion. Actually, I might tell my day-to-day life as a sort of over-exaggerated story.

Here is my new goal: start each blog with the “Crazy Random Happenstance of the Day.” (Why yes, I have watched Dr. Horrible several times.) With that in mind, it is more than likely that I will go on a tangent and tell the rest of my stories of the day, be they exaggerated or just...normal.

Everything said, perhaps you might like to learn who I am. Throughout the last few years of my life, I have come to be widely known as qorter. If you capitalize the 'Q,' you're doing it wrong. (I also think that comma looks out of place, but grammar is grammar.) More formally I am known as Courtney with a French last name that makes me love my French ancestry and which is another reason I loved Julie & Julia.

Taking an idea from the movie/book, let's play “Guess My Last Name!” Clue number one: My last name also is the name of a popular sauce. Clue number two: They mentioned this sauce in The Princess and the Frog. If you already know me (because you seem to have an affinity for following me around on the internet.), you're not allowed to guess. I want to leave this up to whatever readers exist in the blogging world.

So, it is currently about to reach the time of 1:00am on what is now September 4, 2012. Only 108 days until Zombie Apocalypse. Are you prepared?