role model

I think I became a role model today.

My mother and I went to visit some old friends of mine who live across the lake. Their daughter, who’s normally pretty shy and retiring, ended up talking to me a LOT; she’s started to become interested in art, and I was lazily doodling on the paper tablecloths at the place we went for lunch. I let her use my cool fountain brush pen, I talked to her about monsters (she is currently fascinated by them), and stuff like that. She showed me her sketchbook and I showed her some drawing tips. And a tiny fragment of Rita though not enough to really read it since I didn’t want to explain some of the adult themes. Her parents were all “holy crap I’ve never seen her talk to someone like that”. She also showed me her recent acquisition of an authentic feather quill pen, which I was told is a mark of high acclaim in her eyes.

I think I am going to visit the art store when I get back home and send her some more really interesting drawing tools, and a couple books. Just kind of gently offer some direction, if she wants to stick with this “draws stuff” path.

They live out in Abita Springs. Arguably, she needs role models of crazy artist ladies with hair the color of fire and opinions about mythical beasts. I’m pretty sure she’s been lacking in them beforehand.

(Also on the drive out there I (a) told my mother the precise details of how many psychoactive chemicals I’ve done, and (b) went on a comic rant about getting all the right-wing Randroids out of everyone’s hair by shipping them all to Texas, shipping the sane people out of there, and letting them make their own little nation-state of ultimate capitalistic dog-eat-dog dreams. And when it collapses in on itself we just laugh and tell them to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. I may have been riding a sugar high from a snowball during B.)