Making up for lost time

There are just some days that are too slow to actually make a full report of. So, instead, I think it is just as well to post my artwork here. I like this sharp gentleman here, very keen. I drew this a couple of years ago during school, just trying to get a handle on fantasy art pieces, as well as creating depth with the eraser, rather than border lines (though here, there are still border lines). This piece was done with a mechanical pencil, nothing more or less, and as far as art pieces go, this one came out pretty well.

Along the track of fantasy art pieces, I found a trick when working with my pencil; I now work out the kinks with the head and neck only after the rest of the body is drawn. It is nice to look at the page from time to time, and see a finished head, with a rough sketch here or there, but as it happens, if the head is the first thing finished, the piece begins to get tedious. Rather than having to adjust body flaws and sketches to the face, it makes more sense to work out the body, with a rough sketch of the face, and then complete that head and neck later. I have many an incomplete person drawing in my sketch books to prove the learning curve on this one.

Compared to other learning curves, the work that went into something like this was significantly shortened, all thanks to the little factor known as an 'Undo' button. This is a stock image piece that I made during a brief period where I had access to Adobe Photoshop (which is a nice program, by the by). Though I no longer have Photoshop, I do still enjoy working with some of the digital art programs, such as MS paint, or Gimp when dealing with a project too tedious or colorful for me to do out by hand. This piece was just an experiment, something to see what I could do with Photoshop. As it happens, the program was very much user friendly.
Just to add this in as shameless advertising...This is a link to my Deviantart page, where I've posted some of my creative writings, my sketches, and more. I hope that you enjoy what I've done as much as I have

Old Sturbridge Village Trip

The family decided, seeing as my father had the first week of July off, we would go do something together. After a little consideration, and a last minuted decision, we packed our bags for a two day trip to Old Sturbridge Village, in Sturbridge Massachusetts. The village was the brain child of three antique collectors, who wound up working their way up from old tools and clothes, to whole buildings. The place became a historic site in the 1930's, and over the years, the information and placement of objects has become more accurate to what might have actually been found in the buildings, each with a good reason why.

The thing that I took the most photographs of (which may disappoint some people) were the household tools and living quarters. I was less concerned about taking pictures of the great arms of timothy or wheat waving in the breeze, or the museum guides, though, in hindsight, it may have been nice to take plenty more pictures than I did. I did, however thoroughly enjoy hearing about the history of each of the different houses, how they actually moved them from one place to the next, and admired the craftsmanship and care that went into the construction of so many of the tools.
If you haven't gone to Old Sturbridge Village, and are interested in history in any way, shape, or form, I would recommend this place to you. It was worth it for me to go down and spend a night at a hotel to visit the place, and the attendants of the museum are very helpful and amusing in their own ways. Check it out some time.

The tenth day of my life, June 24

Went off to work at Labor Ready again, and this time, it was quite the experience. I was assigned to clean up the Epping drag strip, which was a generally trashy job. In all senses of the term. From the people leaving the strip, to the tons (yes tons) of bottles, clutch pads, wrappers, plates, wallets...That last one I only wish I found. The job seemed to be generally miserable. That being said, I did find that the people working on the trash clean up were some very interesting characters. One of the gentlemen there claimed to have held every employable position at that drag strip; from dish boy, to driver. I was pretty well shocked to hear that he had chosen to volunteer to pick up trash. When I asked him why he was volunteering, he said it was because he loved being at the track that much, and that he knew someone had to do it. I hope to find that level of devotion to something, some day.

We went around in a golf cart, picking up trash out of big barrels all around the lot where the race vehicles and concession stands were the previous weekend. The work wasn't strenuous, just hot and a little disgusting. We made fun of it, of course, by driving the golf cart at full speed and 'jousting' for cardboard boxes with a piece of metal we found on the ground. I also came across a respectable number of clutch plates that were abandoned in the lot. I originally wanted to go and turn some of them into an art piece, or maybe into some really strange round knives. After the sixtieth clutch plate recovered, however, I decided against doing anything special with the metal, and will probably sell them for scrap weight or something of the sort.

Through trash and thin, I worked the eight hours I was meant to, and then waited around for a half hour for the boss to get back from somewhere. I had wanted to feel discontent with his lack of punctuality, but when he stated that, with the races, he had been working upwards of sixty hours a week for the past couple of weeks, I understood his situation completely, shut my mouth, and waited my turn to be signed off.

The seventh day of my life, June 21

Today I spoke with the restaurant manager again, this time about the logistic problem that I had (the restaurant being so far, the pay being so low). I half expected him to tell me to take it or leave it, but instead, he told me that it was fine, and that he would keep me on call for whenever he was short a dishwasher or extra set of hands in the warehouse or kitchen. I thanked him for the experience, and made sure to get as much contact information to him as I could. I hope he keeps me in mind in future days. The next task was to stop by a local museum (check it out some time! The New Hampshire Farm Museum), and apply there for an internship. I was greeted there with open arms, and told to start work tomorrow, as it was their dairy day event they needed the extra help with. I am more than happy to work with them, seeing as it is right up my alley to work with historic pieces, reenact, and research as much as I can about the time period I am educating about. I should probably brush up on my people skills with the children, but now that I don't have my long flowing locks, I won't look as frightful as I once did. I should also brush up on my colonial knowledge again, seeing as there shouldn't be any dark ages museums around here any time soon (but I can at least hope).

The sixth day of my life, June 20

I worked my first job from labor ready. It was pretty awesome in its own respect; I got to try out construction clean up, which actually wasn't all that bad. I found it to be pretty satisfying in it's own strange way, when I didn't have to socialize with the other workers. I found that the other people who were on clean up duty from labor ready were not the type that I would like to hang around. Fortunately, it is unlikely that I will be on a job site with them ever again, because labor ready is like that. You don't have to work with the same people every time, nor even work every day if you don't want to.

I was working at pounding rebar into concrete for the creation of supports within a concrete mold that would be used to make cement curbs within the new building. I think I like concrete, and the predictable nature of the substance, but at the same time, it doesn't have the same beauty or reusable qualities of stone. I would love to see a big industry building made with stone rather than cement. Still, that part of the job was nice and solitary; just me, a bunch of steel, and a hammer.

The next part of the job was more monotonous that the last, and much less appealing. Apart form having to deal with the other workers, I was walking around, sweeping up after the messes that the other workers left behind. I think that around hour six on the job, I was reminded why I didn't particularly like people (myself included), and their short sighted reality. I also felt a pang of guilt working in that big building, where there once were trees and a couple of swamps. It is hard to think of the effect that this building has had on the environment, even as itself. It may be an economic boom for the town, but it is a drain on what makes New Hampshire, New Hampshire. This state is supposed to be quaint, colloquial, and small. Being stuck in the past isn't a bad thing, when tourist season comes, plus, I see very few downsides to an older way of life. Back less than a hundred years ago, in my small town, everyone knew everyone, and the community aspect of life up north was tight and sound. Now, I hardly know anyone from my town, and I doubt most of them know me, or what I do. How nice it would be to be tighter knit, though, I suppose I am as much of the problem as I am part of the solution right now.

Back on the work site, I got about nine and a half hours of work in, and then packed up for home. I got my depressingly low paycheck for the day, and then spent my night doing internship application work while resting my feet a little.  

The fifth day of my life, June 19

The fifth day in the real world

“Walk in, sign up, get to work. That's day labor for you.”

I signed up with Labor Ready for temp work. It is always good to be in their systems, and it will give me the ability to learn many different jobs, in a very short period of time. I hope everything goes well with that. I continued working on my research on the Anglo Saxons, which was more than gratifying this time. I learned a little more about the lifestyle of the people during the dark ages, and how the economic designs of the clothing was devised not to look good, or even to fit comfortably, but rather to conserve cloth, and make the least number of seams in the garment as possible while at it. I believe that this was a pretty good way to go about it, even though the garments may not have been all that comfortable to begin with. Seeing as the common materials were flaxen linen and wool, the linen would soften as it was worn, and it would be rare to want to wear wool directly against the skin anyways. Leathers and furs were worn as well, but typically as over garments rather than straight tunics or trousers; they were more used in the forms of cloaks, gloves, armor, and shoes. The basic tunic confuses me though. It was designed with a flared base, and to be around knee length, mostly for mobility and coverage during the whole year. I wonder as to why there was as much flare (or goring as it is called) as there was to the tunics, seeing as it was a time for economic use of material. Why not go for short tailed tunics and good trousers, rather than knee length tunics in addition to trousers. I'll find an answer sooner than later.

Third day of life, June 17

The third day in the real world

“I came, I spoke, I was employed.”

I got a job today. Went into a somewhat local business, and asked what they had for job openings; I had already spoken to the manager before, but now was a more formal time to approach him about getting under his employ. The manager gave me a job, right there and then, not even questioning my background, or history in the dish washing business. I start my work tomorrow, on a 5 to 8 evening shift, just to see how I like it. Apart from applying to the job, I did a little bit of writing, and had an unexpected visit from the girlfriend, and a friend of hers. Her friend was the one who had dragged her to my house without any forewarning, and the whole situation was a little bit uncomfortable. I am not one to be dropped in on, seeing as I usually like to have a clean and presentable visage of the place before anyone shows up, and seeing as I normally need a purpose to visit with others. I guess it's just the way things work sometimes. After that situation, I continued working on my 10,000 hours of music, and nodded off early.

To clarify the last statement here, there was a book published a little bit ago called Outlier, you can probably find it on Amazon or in a book store if you're lucky, all about how some of the famous people we know today, and those who are not famous at all, become outliers of society, and something better and different. Though some of the concepts are strange, there was one part of the book that really stuck with me; the 10,000 hour rule. The rule states that after 10,000 hours of practice and performance of a certain skill or task, one will be a master of the skill; an example for me is playing Irish and World music for 10,000 hours to become a master in the art. It may sound hard, but really it just takes dedication to the trade or task. I hope to get going with my hours as soon as possible.