This Life in Paper

This morning, I had a paper sitting on my desk needing filing. I didn't do it yesterday because it belonged in a blue or purple folder in one of three drawers and I wasn't up for a game of Adulting Clue. So after a large cup of coffee that was three sips blazing hot and then chugged arctic cold in the finale, I went to sit down to do something productive but my organizational Imp had something else in mind. He yanked my eyes to the misplaced paper and played the over-eager puppy in the space between until I relented to the task. Wanna go for a walk, wanna go for a walk? No, I don't want to go for a walk but it wasn't really a question, was it?

I'm not exactly a neat freak, mind you, but Imps are equal parts saboteur and procrastinator. I don't have this adamantium level of self confidence that makes me immune to distraction and in truth, I relent more often than not BECAUSE I just spent three days straight doing work on many cover simultaneously. Sometimes it's because I spent two weeks straight writing and editing for 14 hours a day. The Imps aren't full-fledged demons in my life because more often than not, I win. This morning was not that sort of victory.

Or maybe it was. I found the folder pretty quickly and in the first drawer I looked in, but I also paid attention to the other inhabitants of the drawer and found the Imp-proof armor my Muse planted when she must have known my Imp would work his mischief. Don't get me wrong; I love my Imp too. Like my nephews, he's creative and humorous and he's no more a pain in the ass than my slave-driver of a Muse. (Sorry, feminists and MRA-- no psychological victories today.)

First thing I found:

 

 

 

Not the first sideways picture. Won't be the last.

8th grade Zoology folder. I know it's 8th grade because I took Biology in 7th. Final Fantasy VI characters to confirm (it was called 3 back then). (When Gau has a bright idea, it's not a light bulb, but a flickering candle-- I recall these things and laugh all over again.) The Zoology notes from class are still in there, equally competing with drawings. My science teacher all throughout middle school and high school was Mr. Koehler and most students hated his class. I loved it and he never told me not to draw in my notebooks. Got a kick out of my comics, at that. It was also the only class that I passed when I started being truant. I'd actually show up for his 1st bell class then ditch until 7th bell Band.

Next thing I found:

Oh gods, make it stop...

The Legend of Nibichi, Part 2. This was a story that my bff Liz and I worked on. We didn't have many of the same classes, so we'd make a point to pass each other in the hallway and swap notebooks. Sometimes we had three or four at once, some stories (written like radio plays, as you can see), some comics. Most of them were thrown away, embarrassingly bad, but I still have a couple of these floating around because I do have a sentimental streak. Also, Liz and I feed off of each other so it was amusing even when it was bad. That's how we met. 6th grade, both of us being bullied and the teacher sat us together at the desks in front of his so he could keep it in check. We were both to ourselves, drawing over the printed pictures in the Weekly Reader and I heard her laugh at the diaper I was drawing on the man and I look over and she was drawing some rather impressive ear hair. Instant friendship. Her daughters and my nephews go to the same school and we're still the kind of friends that draw weird looks because we really only make sense to each other. Twinning, or some shit.

That's not all! The drawer has more tales!

VOILA!

The magic is usually sideways.

Jewelry counter at Meijer's. Cheese and rice, that was a boring job unless you love cleaning oily face marks off of glass most of the day. Or spelling 'suck my balls' with the monogrammed bras in the intimates section behind Jewelry. I kept a little notebook on the counter and... well, I drew. If you've happened on my social media, you've already seen that I am no stranger to drawing at work (the Petco logo gives those away) but this was before the more recent ones. These are stapled stacks, the bottom one being just sketches, the top was a comic idea I never did. When I was working all the time, I was always beat once I got home. Drawing at work was the only time it happened. I wondered back then if I would ever do anything with it. I'm relieved that I am doing that now. Starving artist or not, even when it hurts, I don't wonder anymore. This is the dream, come hell or high water.

There was no 'day job and creative hustle on the side'. I was never blessed with that kind of energy. If not for my atypical circumstances, it might have been no more than a dream. I regret nothing.

Let's not get somber here.

My wonky memory is notorious and sometimes hilarious.

My nephews are polite but ultimately impatient.

I like to keep reminders:

"Take Marcus and Dameon's money to the bank." Yes, masters, to read is to obey.

I can remember this day, oddly enough. Not in the 'I could pass a history test' kind of memory for the exact date, but I remember the day Marcus came up to me coyly asking for a piece of paper and I've got my pink Hello Kitty notebook within reach. It didn't matter what kind of paper it was. Then he asks me for a marker. I then ask if he needs me to write it too. The kid is literal and just answers me with a very serious 'no' before disappearing for a couple minutes. He comes back with the marker and the paper folded into this weird strip and tells me he's just leaving it on my dresser. Uh-huh. I know what fish smells like. He runs out of the room when I reach for it and... yeah, I'm cracking up. Subtle, real subtle. I always take them to the bank with me-- I deposit their money so they can buy games. They have to count the tax too. They did their end of the bargain, but the weather was pretty awful for a few days. I had a distinct feeling he was angling for this when he asked me what the weather was like beforehand. I raised these kids-- they're little Imps and I'm the one to blame.

So after rummaging through one drawer, I managed to set off a time capsule into the past. The good kind where the full-fledged Demons don't get to play. So, thank you, Imp and Muse, and don't forget to team up from time to time. I like to see my life in paper.

And there--

is a WHOLE--

lot of paper--

floating around here...