Art School = More Cunts. I Mean Artists.

Every time I read a comic with good style and writing, I feel that much more compelled to make my own. In middle school the only comics I read were manga, so of course I wanted to make manga. Yes, I was one of those white kids who kinda wanted to be Japanese, if being Japanese was really like it was represented in the comics (which I suspect now it isn't). I mean, helloooooo their box lunches are like way cooler than American kids' box lunches, for fuck's sake!

My issue with making comics is the same as my issue with writing a story long enough to become a book: I can't keep going. I can't come up with a story that interests me enough to stick with it. ESPECIALLY because drawing all those panels and speech bubbles is such a pain in the ass. The most I could do would be one strip at a time, like a newspaper comic (and we all know how great those are), with characters based on (read, "ripped off") real life. Last night before I was about to pass out (which seems to be the only time I come up with awesome ideas) I kept thinking of funny strips of Kate and me. It was stuff that wasn't actually based on real life events, but wouldn't be too far off the mark. Except now I can't remember most of them, aside from one where we start screaming about free pie.

Thing is, I wonder if going to art school would really get my proverbial ball rolling. It's kind've cool to be in a room full of other weird, arty-type people. One of my friends told me that meeting other artists would be a good way to improve. Of course, with artists, as with most other things, really, there's always that underlying current of competition. I could probably use that kind of motivation, though.