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Eve of Destruction?

OK, I am fucking nervous about this “Art Teacher” gig. You can laugh ’til you spit, and I will still be nervous about it. Because I know what secondary school children are like: I was one not very long ago, and I was a holy fucking terror.

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Is this what an art teacher looks like?

Is this what an art teacher looks like? I’ve got the slouchy jumper. I’ve got skinny trousers. I’ve got sensible shoes. I’ve got silver jewellery with amethysts and some leather bracelets and bangles. My hair is carefully uncared-for. And when the fuck did I ever care what I look like anyway? Well, as long as they don’t dress me up like the cover of a bad fantasy novel, that is.

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Is this what an art teacher does?

Is this what an art teacher does? I keep imagining myself staring at a blank canvas and being completely frozen, unable to do anything with it. I mean, that’s what would happen if I were an actual art teacher.

Which I will be. Tomorrow morning at 8:30 in the fucking morning. And you can stop laughing, right now. Because I certainly won’t be. I will be marching in with a double flat white and I’ll probably put a pack of cigs in my pocket just so I look cool to art students (because they all probably smoke anyway).

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How does an art teacher even think?

How does an art teacher even think? I know Owen picked this cover because he’s pretty sure I can pull it off—but the truth is, I’m shaking in my sensible shoes. And it doesn’t matter how many times I go over it, I am pretty much convinced that I come out of this either exposed as a fraud or on my way to the nuthouse in the special huggy jacket.

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I am so lame, I even practiced standing in front of the class and introducing myself.

I am so lame, I even practiced standing in front of the class and introducing myself. “Good morning; I’m …” and then I forget my cover name and have to go look it up in the dossier. Because that is the kind of fuck-up you can’t recover from, in front of a bunch of 11-16-year-olds who probably know more about art than you do right now.

Right. I need two shots of bourbon, neat, and a sleeping pill. And a really fucking loud alarm clock.

Wish me luck. Or, at least wish that I get through tomorrow alive.

Style Card:
Body: Maitreya
Head: Lelutka, Simone Bento Head
Eyes: Mesange, Don’t Speak Eyes (Omega Appliers)
Skin: 7 Deadly s{K}ins, Meilin, in tone Taupe (This is the February Group Gift at the 7 Deadly s{K}ins Main Store!) Taupe is a little light for TAC, even in human guise, but I wanted to try out the new Omega body appliers that Izara Zuta has made! These will be released at the upcoming Skin Fair, and they are wonderful! So easy to use, and so fast!
Jumper and Trousers: Salt, Carla Pants, Carla Wooly Jumper (COMING SOON to The Gacha Garden!)
Hair: Wasabi Pills, Tara (COMING SOON (tomorrow, in fact!) to Fameshed!)
Ring: Aisling, The Good Wife
Shoes: Ingenue, Marlene Oxford, Ebon

TAC’s flat:
Skybox: Vespertine, Reykjavik Loft
Couches, tables, light easel, and curtains: CLAVv, Light Studio (Available NOW at The Epiphany!)
Easel, stool, rolling shelf with canvases: Artisan Fantasy, Art Studio

Poses: Seated, XXY, both from the Thinking of You Pack (Available NOW at Shiny Shabby!)
Standing: Vanity, Cool Stance 1 (F)

Spiffy photos taken with the indispensible aid of my LumiPro. I never make TAC soul-search without it (or the F-bomb)!

7ds   wasabi_logo_2012_512x512

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