On the subject of brushing with fame|
I feel slightly like I just fucked up...
Many of you are aware of my close proximity to Ringling College of Art and Design, you may also be aware that Illustration Academy is at Ringling. Illustration Academy is where a bunch of famous fucking illustrators come down to share their knowledge with lowly (wealthy) students, in hopes that these students will vastly improve in art.
I work at Big E's, the coffee shop that caters almost specifically to Ringling, a place that teachers and students frequent daily. A place that during Illustration Academy, FAMOUS FUCKING ILLUSTRATORS VISIT EVERYDAY.
Lately, we've had a couple of new customers, older customers, not too old, but older. Upon asking my boss if they were our new regulars, he mentioned their names and the reason for their current visit to Sarasota.
I just met Jon Foster, and didn't fucking realize it, and I was chatting with him about how I was working on commissions, as though I was hot shit.
Let me reiterate, I JUST TOLD JON FOSTER, A FAMOUS FUCKING PROFESSIONAL ARTIST, THAT I DO ART, AND GET PAYED FOR IT.
I feel miserable, I'm gonna go be emo, and cut myself, and then come back to the shop in a few days, and give him breakfast on me. Then feel more miserable