California Kisses

Chapter Two

There were few things that I enjoyed in the world. But what I enjoyed the most involved a pencil in my hand and my imagination on the paper. Watching the picture of my imagination come to life gave me such joy.

While sitting in my class, I only halfway listened to what the teacher recited from the text books. I could just go back and read it again later. But what I couldn't do was recreate the ocean scene in my head. If it didn't come out now, I felt certain it would be a long time before I ended up bringing it to the fore again.

As a few select words caught my attention, forcing my attention back to my textbook. I flipped the page, scanning for the portion my teacher spoke of. I paid close attention as she explained a certain battle, spoke of the individuals who fought there and how they died. How their legacy lived one in their cultures and created myths and legends.

I could practically feel the imaginative wheels churning.

Even though I didn't look it with charcoal on my hands and ears only halfway tuned in, school didn't bother me in the way it bothered others. The structure, the knowledge - if anything, it encouraged the creative in the back of my mind replenishing what could easily become a burnt out well.

My current class, World History, was my favorite in relation to imagination, reading about the world and the beautiful places filling it, the people who lived and fought for their visions and beliefs; it all filled my mind with wild images desperate for release. So now towards the end of class with my teacher rambling about historical figures, I shaded and darkened different features of my picture.

Bubbles took up the edges, filling in spots that normally would have been empty.

Currents, though seemingly invisible, moved the picture in ways that made it feel alive.

Coral and anemones littered the bottom of the page, all of varying sizes and color.

And in the center, the focal point of the entire scene, an orca twisted and turned through the waves, with an almost gleeful look on its face. Making an orca seem happy with giving it a Cheshire Cat smile was rather difficult for me, but I managed, although it wasn't my favorite part of the scene.

I darkened the top of the orca, adding spots for shine and shimmer as I went along. The eyes were still empty, which creeped me out a little, but I would out those in later.

"Study chapter 11 in your textbooks, and complete the quiz at the end. Remember, people, this will be on the midterms."

I snapped from artist mode back into student mode. My pad of paper was promptly shut and throwing in my bag. My textbook and pencils were added into the pile and within seconds, the strap was lifted over my head and I headed out the door.

My mood instantly improved, even with the thorn of people ahead of me that I still needed to make my way through. I knew that just beyond this corridor, my salvation waited for me.

For me, art class represented everything I needed in the world. It counted as y second home, my sanctuary. I felt at peace as soon as I walked through the doors, regardless of the day I was experiencing. My teacher made the hour even more pleasant.

Like me, he understood the need to always have paper and pencil. He understood the catalog of colors and constantly added to it. Like me, he saw the world through a different lens. There was no black and white, there were no gray areas. The world burst forth with color, hues and imagination.

I felt less like a lonely outcast.

The feeling of being an outcast didn't hit me until high school. Granted, I was a self proclaimed outcast; I was an elite outcast and I made that way in life for myself. But when people pointed it out to me, it made me feel a tad uncomfortable. It was like when someone asks a married couple when they are planning to have kids. Or a single woman when she's finally going to start dating. Or a teen, which college are they going to with what major. It's things that you don't really shove a plan for or have put much thought into until someone brings it up.