To the redhaired guy at chimes drink night:

You seemed like a cool guy. I'd met you several times are drink night before. I don't know if too much alcohol was involved this time around, and frankly I don't care. I'm tired of you kind of people. You're the bane of artists everywhere.

My sketchbook is NOT YOUR GODDAMN FUCKING PROPERTY.

I don't care if you fucking tripped over my purse. I don't care if I beat you over the head with it. You cannot TAKE ANYTHING OUT OF MY FUCKING PURSE OR OFF MY PERSON WITHOUT MY PERMISSION OR WITHOUT TELLING ME.

How would you feel if I took your wallet out of your back pocket without asking you? How would you feel if I proceeded to mock the face you made in your driver's license and thought it was okay because I said "But the I think the photographer did a great job of capturing your buck-toothed ass face?" How would you feel if I said "You're a liberal arts major, I thought you guys were supposed to be good-looking, not look like a syphilis sore on a donkey's herniated asshole." How would you feel if, when you protested me essentially stealing your wallet, I said "well, if you didn't want me to look at it, you wouldn't have brought it to this restaurant tucked in your pants."

More importantly, how do you think the other people at the table would react if I did that? I would hope that they would jump to your defense, if not because they are your friends but out of simple human decency.

And yet, they sat idly by as you did the exact same things to me. Why? Because it was a sketchbook, I guess. It's not like my thoughts rendered on paper are more personal to me than the 5-month old rubber and the crumpled receipts in your wallet are to you. I mean, clearly anyone's drawings belong to everyone and anyone and any old asshole can come up to me and demand a look. Hell, why not rip out a page and take it home with you for the whole family to mock? It's not like it's my private property or my creation, now is it?
You are not allowed to tell me to 'stop watching anime' because I have a few drawings of men with cat ears. NONE OF MY GODDAMN DRAWINGS WERE IN AN ANIME STYLE.

You are not allowed to make random assumptions about what the content of my sketches are doing, what they are wearing, or why. You've already put more thought into it than me.
There is no goddamn reason why an Engineer can't draw. It's not like our job doesn't require us to think spatially, or draw diagrams, or use 3D modeling programs like, oh, for instance, AutoCAD. This may come as a shock to you, but art supply stores do not require proof of Art Major (gasp!) before checkout.

Just because my sketchbook is in a public place (or within your reach) doesn't mean I want you to read it. IF I WANT TO YOU LOOK AT MY SKETCHBOOK, I WILL TELL YOU AND GIVE IT TO YOU. This may come as a surprise to you, but some artists actually leave the house every once and a while, on account of having, you know, lives. They might like to draw from life, or have a particular scene they want to draw not captured on a photograph. They might just want to have paper available if the mood strikes, or have something to do during unexpected waits. Sketchbooks are designed to be portable because these are all reasons people by them and take them in public. There were a couple of women at the table in tight clothing, do you think that means that they want you to have sex with them? That they were 'asking for it'? Then don't use that same excuse to try and justify your rude behavior with my sketchbook. I wasn't 'asking for' you to flip through my sketchbook and insult me by me bringing it into a public place. It wasn't unattended, it wasn't open, it wasn't on the table, and it wasn't in the walkway- it was in my purse, under my seat. Don't blame me for you inability to control yourself.  

I apologize for smacking you up the backside of the head. I should not have committed a violent act. But take comfort in the fact that that smack was not entirely for you. No, you were just the most egregious in a long, long line of 'those kind of people.' That smack was for every jackass in the past 22 years who thought they could take my purse, my backpack, or my luggage without my permission. For every person who thought they could psychoanalyze me based on my drawings. For every time I got back from an art class and my family has already divvied up my work without any input from me and before I even finished the class. For every time my mom gave away something I drew without asking or telling me. For every time she would 'request' assine drawings to have something better to go with the décor, as if I was her fucking personal decorator. For when she would raid my room and trashcan for drawings and hang them up without telling me and wouldn't take them down when I asked her to. For every time my dad panicked and acted like an asshole to me because he thought my interest in art meant I wasn't interested in being an engineer, no matter how many times I'd assure him it wasn't the case. For every time I got my sketchbook taken away due to the tiniest dip in grades. For every time I've had art stolen from me.

For every random scribble I forget to throw away at a house and find on their wall. For all those art students, friends, acquaintances, who would walk up behind me and just…STARE at me when I draw something and freak me the fuck out when I finally realize they're there. For every stranger whose asked to see my sketchbook before they even told me their name. For every stranger who acted like they knew me because they'd heard from friends that I could draw. For anyone, but especially random strangers, who asked me to draw them something, or do posters or their wedding invitiations or crafts I've never heard or, much less know how to do, without offering to pay. For every present of shitty art supplies from a clueless friend or family member. (Hi secret santa! Thanks for the pastels! I've never used pastels and I never will! It's not like all my drawings are in pencil or anything!) For every person who's ever asked me what my 'secret' was (I've been drawing for 16 years. Got a time machine?) For every person who thought that I couldn't possibly be a good engineer because I was a good artist, or vice versa. (I mean, it's not like I'm at college on a full scholarship, or have a patent or a successful grant-proposal under my belt before finishing college…oh wait, I do!)

Is it any wonder why I draw behind a fucking locked door most of the time? Do I have to drill a hole through the pages and put a lock on my sketchbook too?  

I thought you were a cool guy. Or at least, a decent human being. I was wrong.