That Slow Burn

I like paints, I think. I just did a panel on one of the comic jam pages for book arts using acrylic washes. They turned out lousy (they are way too dark, but live and learn I guess) (at least I hope the others see it that way) I did enjoy the mixing of colors, figuring out how to make brown (you guys know how to make brown, right?) and squeezing the little tubes. I'd like to do more with color but I have no clue what I'm doing. I know there are classes for such things and books, but you know, tick tock, right?
I've thought about going back and coloring The Millenials and reposting them, but that would most likely be a computer color job and I'm not going to do it any time soon.
I do love art, though. It's been slow this semester in that most of the book art projects don't involve much drawing and I'm not spending 6 hours of class time drawing a week. I forgot how exciting the process of discovery is, that feeling of magic as I create a new color, a new line, a new pages, unearth a new idea, bring forth some secret, fantastic aspect of myself, my inner world. I never seem to get much past the first shallow layers of what it is I'm getting at. I blame this on time factors. I don't create for the sake of creation inside a wide open container. I'm cramming a few hours in here and there and racing the clock to beat a deadline. Yeah, "Finish It" is the Magus Council Motto, and it works, yet...remember, if you can, those early days of youth when we fumbled heavily past clothing and hesitation on our first warm brush with undiscovered skin? Remember the long, laborious circular moments of stalling for time and distraction with our lips, teeth, and tongue while our hands sought access, vulnerable spots, some way past defenses to touch the damp, deep hidden mysteries? And that sickening burn we were left with when our tactless maneuvers were halted too soon, the churning itch and smoldering irritation was all we had to take home with us while we imagined the secret world, that promised sense of self that lie hidden, just underneath the surface, always just another inch, another few seconds away.
It's feel something like that.