facepalm, headdesk

Yesterday I visited my friend, due to a potluck dinner.

I brought my sketchbook, a mechanical pencil, and an eraser to work on some pieces, such as my sister’s commission, which I am beginning to despise. Her character is an evil character, and I think he’s beginning to get on my nerves. How do you draw pretty and evil men? Ah, you know what, let’s base him of Sephiroth. Just kidding, highly unlikely. Maybe just the face.

Well anyways, this particular friend of mine especially loves to steal my sketchbook so she can look through everything, which is quite annoying because of all the works-in-progress, as well as the scrapped works. I should remove the scraps, but it makes the book feel especially incomplete.

I put it in her room for safekeeping (bad idea), and she stole it. I sent my sister to go steal it back. While she did that, I gathered all my drawing utensils. Except, I couldn’t find my mechanical pencil! My eraser was there, but where had the pencil gone? I frantically checked my coat pocket, my jeans pocket, under her bed.

Apparently, she didn’t take it when she took the sketchbook. And so I looked around the house for it.

When I came back to her room to tell her about my inability to find it, I found her, as well as my sister, and other friends, flipping through my sketchbook. What the heck! I sent my sister to take the sketchbook yet she betrayed me and became my friend’s accomplice!

With the combination of the loss of the pencil and the betrayal, it’s easy to say that I was not in a good mood.

I’m not usually good with mechanical pencils, because after the first or second week of use, I break it or lose it. This particular one was my “lucky” pencil since it lasted four months without any hubbub. I guess I’m still not good with mechanical pencils yet.

But all I could do that night, in order to avoid the role of party-pooper, was to swallow my frustration.

I hope that my friend can find it.

Ah, reading back on this, it seems like a stupid artist’s rant. Stupid even for the most serious of artists.

But I just feel so down, my pencil lost, my trust betrayed.

I need to slap myself on the head. So stupid.