28 December, 2012

Friday; Profiles and prophecies.

We'll start with my weekly life drawing sessions.

19th November, 2012

Deep within the central business district of Sydney, Australia, there is a sanctuary for the artistically inclined such as myself, where there is readily available space for exhibiting and sales, drawing and drinking, eating and celebrating artistic endeavours. Every Monday there is a life drawing session, where a large space is reserved for a multitude of people with two nude models available for the pursue of drawing, painting, inking and sketching to one's heart content.
I love it there. It's a relaxed place I can happily draw nude people without worrying about oddness, because life drawing is something that an artist of any profession must encounter, and participate in. It improves the hand, the mind and the heart.

I regularly fall in love with the shapes of the models, but more so than anything else, I fall in love with the faces of the fellow artists around me, who produce amazing pieces of work with materials ranging from inks and watercolours to charcoals to ball point pens stolen from work and Ikea pencils and Bamboo Styluses.

So, armed with this new found love of profiles and shapes of noses, chins and faces, I draw them while they don't look my way. Sometimes I get lucky and produce pieces that I'm happy enough to leave after finishing, knowing that I have drawn my best of the day, but most of the time they end up being unfinished doodles, because my unknowing model either moves or becomes blocked from my view by someone else, or someone else catches my eye.

I began this weekly life drawing session attendance on the 7th of May, 2012 and I regret to inform you that I have not attended every single week's session as I would have liked to have done, but I have gone to a ridiculous amount of them and I am drawing whenever I can get my hands on materials, so I would like to think that I've improved.

26th November, 2012

There are regulars at these life drawing therapy sessions, just like I, drawing the others at our sessions. I have been drawn a few times, here. It feels wonderfully satisfying to know like someone likes my profile as much as I like theirs.

I haven't spoken to any of the individuals whose faces I have posted today, which is a shame because sometimes I find myself giving the faces a story or a history.
There have been times when the histories and conjured realities that I give others have become so elaborate that I don't want to initiate a friendship with them, because I don't want to be disappointed. What would I do if they were to be much less interesting than the lives that I had granted them? It is a selfish, but peacekeeping manner of treating such a situation.

The man on the right is extremely good at pencil renditions of portraits of regulars, as well as a fine life drawing artist. I am, perhaps, not the right judge for this skill, considering how lacking I am in the department, but I admire his pieces of art constantly, and once caught his eye while I was drawing him drawing me.
It was a fantastic realisation. I have made it a habit to draw him every time I see him there. It could be the unspoken beginnings of a friendship, I don't know.
He has one of the most beautiful noses to ever grace a human face. It speaks stories and it's lines and spots tell of the places he's been, the people he's seen, the things he's smelled.

26th November, 2012

Every person I draw from Monday nights seems to be looking down and away because I try very hard to sit in a position that allows me the access to seeing as many faces and profiles as possible. As a direct result of that and the fact that the model that they are focusing on should definitely not be me, their gazes are never in my line of sight.
People also look down to draw for a lot longer and more regularly than they are looking up into one direction, for an extended period of time.

I would like to start blocking colours at some point again, but for now I have been sticking with inky ball point pens and felt tip markers, mainly of the under 0.4 variety because thin tips make me very, very happy.
I'd also like to learn how to be patient and steady-handed enough to produce a bunch of patterns to fill in the lines that create these spaces on the page, but it's a little too early for that as of yet because there's much more about linework that I feel like I need to learn before tackling anything else.

Lines seem to easy to produce but they are so difficult to master. A drawing is just a line that is organised in a certain manner, but I wish there were a formula for it.
Learning to master it wouldn't take all my life. But I guess that's half the fun.

Sometimes I think that my sole purpose in life should be to draw the elderly. The lines on their faces and the stories that they tell would make a fantastic kind of series of work, I should think. Maybe I'll put that in the back on my mind until I have the skill level to produce something half decent.

All of the scans in this post as raw scans because I do not have the patience to edit anything I scan in. The quality of the drawings themselves are already dismal enough, trying to edit them to make them better will only be me trotting on my own self esteem, and who needs that?
I wish I could post something festive, but I didn't draw anything serious for the holidays at all, and all the stupid sketches go on my sketchblog, not here. If you need more incentive to click on that link, there are actual sketches of the live drawing models from the same sketch book as these drawings have come from.

29th November, 2012

In related news, I have started on my quest to knowing as much as I can about John Ronald Reuel Tolkien's world as I can possibly fit into my life right now, and everything is fine and dandy. 
I have watched The Hobbits and Les Misérables in the past two days, got emotional over Rise of the Guardians pretty much all week and will proceed to watch Wreck-It Ralph as soon as I can and be emotional over Paper Man because feelings.

My Christmas gifts have been distributed and my New Years Eve and Day has been planned. All I must do now is to get through the next two days in a wholesome manner and my year will end fabulously. 

I bid you a fantastic finish to a fruitful year,

24 December, 2012

Monday; Eve.

Here is a long excerpt from my journal, back in October, because I feel like sharing:
I fall and fall and fall in all sorts of ways for all sorts of people and for reasons that, at times, astound even myself. I love it.  
I love people and I love people's lives and how they go about in them. I love cracking open someone's shell to get them comfortable. I love talking and finding out about someone to catalogue their life story both for later writing use and to use information about them to make them happy. I love approval from people I admire. I love differences and similarities and I love befriending people I never thought I'd get along with, and I love being around people who are so much more impressive than I but somehow grant me their presence and let me bask in their attention. 
I love discussions and opinionated statements and disagreements on the meanings or connotations of words, and I love the sleepy but deep and meaningful conversations and the way people use my name to restate or capture my attention. I love it when people hug me hello or goodbye or just 'cause and I love it a lot when people tell me they love me because I really love people and when it's mutual it just makes me all the more happier.
I love looking through my photos on Facebook to remember things and relive fond memories and then discussing them with people who were there. I love meeting the friends of my friends and then finding out or asking about what my friends were like before I met them. I love knowing someone so well that they begin to tell you something and I am able to say what they've told me before. I love sharing stories and knowledge and trivia and useless tid bits that make life just that little cooler. 
I love being with people a lot then cataloguing their little habits and quirks and kinks and the way they talk and walk and attitudes. I love it so much when I realise that my friends are contagious and I suddenly use phrases that I never used before for situations that I'd never have gotten into without them. I love deep and meaningful discussions at the wharf, at a party, drunk, sober, tipsy, tired, while all nightering at uni or while procrastinating or texting or while we talk towards an unknown destination... I am feeling so much love right now for all my current active friendships it's impossible. I love them all so much. So much that my heart is bursting into ink and words and sounds and there is just so much to love. I want to love them forever, and just tuck them inside me and carry them places. I want to travel and show them places and learn alongside them and learn about them and convince them to let me be around them forever... I just really love people. I really love people a lot. 
I think perhaps that it's the most honest piece of writing I've ever written. And it is my gift for you, this Christmas. I am solitary tonight, like the moon.

Sleep well,

23 December, 2012

Sunday; Southern hemisphere.

We'll start with summer.

I have had half a summer thus far, and here is a short list of what has happened:

  1. I have fallen in love with one of the greatest eternal friends of mine;
  2. I have drawn less regularly than I would perhaps prefer but I am spending more time on each drawing;
  3. Christmas Eve is tomorrow and I am going to spend it with people who are practically family;
  4. I have spent a few weeks drastically low on money due to the ridiculous gifts I have been purchasing for my golden trio and golden people, for Christmas or otherwise;
  5. My room is a great mess right now due to Christmas gift wrapping and hiding;
  6. Kristin, my beautiful flatmate, has gone and come back from a cruise;
  7. I have spent way too much time with my lovely significant others but I don't even mind (simultaneously because I am a paranoid person I am now going to avoid people for a few days in case people get sick of me);
  8. I watched all the Lord of the Rings movies and will soon proceed to read them all once I find a set of hardcover books that I fall in love with because if anything I will judge a book by it's cover;
  9. I watched Rise of the Guardians and cried. Thrice, through out the movie;
  10. I cried a lot in Lord of the Rings. Multiple times. I lost count. That should be saying something, I guess;
  11. I am tumbling at the speed of a round child falling down a flight of stairs into the Lord of the Rings fandom because the world is just seriously fantastic in all sense of the word;
  12. Mick gave me a cork board which I haven't yet done anything to but will, soon;
  13. I'm slowly getting back to digital paintings, click here to take a look at progresses;
  14. My animators and I have been having a few get togethers throughout summer and I miss them constantly; 
  15. There was a Harry Potter marathon but I got a little tired of it around about the fourth movie (we were watching the extended versions and the first three movies alone were like 8 hours straight of Harry Potter) so I went to Mick's place and we started the Lord of the Rings marathon it was crazy and terrific;
  16. I am slowly in the process of acquiring all the episodes of Quite Interesting (QI) and it feels amazing because I love Stephen Fry like dog loves it's master;
  17. I've not baked for a while and that makes me sad;
  18. My current repeat music is The Black Keys;
  19. I saw a group of friends that I've not seen in months and months the other day and it was glorious because it was like nothing really changed when everything's changed. It's those moments that make my life worth crawling through, because there are moments when you sit back and just know that the world is ok, and everything is fine;
  20. We decided on our Christmas menu the other day and hopefully it turns out fantastic because it'd be nice to make the ones that care the most feel ok and that we can care for ourselves;
  21. I haven't done much animation but plan on doing so in January, which, on another totally unrelated note, has the most amount of birthdays that I am to assist in celebrating, so January is going to be incredible. Like every other month of next year, hopefully. 

I have come to realise that it's the comfortable silences which separate the good friends from the ones I will hold close forever. When the world is chaotic and everything is rushing by and people are changing faster than a magician's assistant changing outfits, and all the terrible things of the world build up inside, having someone who can shut you down, take you a quiet place and just sit next to you and share a peaceful moment is one of the most precious things that I will ever experience, I think.

I don't really understand much of this world, but I do understand that there are amazing things that I will live for. It's all sorts of little and big and everything in between.

There's been a wave of calm that's washed over me as of late, like an extreme level of relaxation. I would like to think that it is due to the summer and the lack of university work, but it isn't. It's because my friends and lovely, wonderful golden trio have wedged themselves (further more) in between my heart and mind and turned the staleness into a brilliant sort of mustard and lavender coloured warmth.
This summer is going to change my life just as much as the last one did. There's a part of me that wishes for stability and monotony, but it doesn't rear it's fangs often enough for me to pay much attention to it, because I know that I would be completely happy for my each and every year to change my life as much as the last. 
I don't want to get to a point of living like a straight line. There's nothing wrong with it, but I don't think it would ever do anything to benefit me. 

I think my life is turning into one long extended metaphor.

And I think I love you, 

05 December, 2012

Wednesday; Mary and Her Monsters [page01]

We'll start with Mary.

Meet the first Mary (alpha version)

Once upon a time, during a lecture of a vague Design variety, I drew an image of a faceless doll for Haein, a beautiful darling I know from my studies in Animation. All I knew was that she was to be a doll without a face.
For some reason I fell in love with the illustration, and eventually I resigned her as Mary, the haunted doll, and the singular illustration turned into a series of them. She is currently still lacking a wholesome back story, and so far it's a little weird. Mary's one of those characters that walk into my head almost fully formed, with a personality and habits and everything, but she's not quite human.

Mary was once a girl, but doesn't remember much about being one. She lost her face when she was cursed to be slowly transformed into a doll in payment for the ability to converse with the dead to find out about her past life, before all the familial deaths. The only thing of her past is her hair. The monsters are a result of the combination of unfortunate external circumstances and internal conflicts.

The Monsters are all visually different, but share a desire for Mary's hair. They're not cruel or evil or anything like that, but instead just want to cut her off from her old self, which is the opposite of what Mary herself desires.

Since Mary is not, by all intents and purposes, alive in most of the illustrations (since she's a doll), sometimes I get the urge to compose one where she's hung or otherwise killed. I'm not sure why. I had a friend (I do not recall who) suggest that I was Mary. I shall not agree nor disagree with that because I haven't figured it out yet myself. I don't know. Looking through these is like trying to psychoanalyse myself, and who knows what that will bring out?

The monsters have been influenced by a range of things from objects to characters to actual people who I have either seen or met. Each monster has a back story as well, but we won't go into that because that thought hasn't been thought out enough for me to explain it just yet.

The whole illustration series was to give myself a project to work on, especially during uni where I wasn't working to my own specifics, but it's turned into a bit of a masochistic obsession wherein each illustration is getting more attention than the previous one and they're all turning into something that means a lot more to me than it started out meaning.
Or maybe that's what every project I do ends up being, I don't know.

Each and every drawing was done completely with traditional mediums. Brush pens are my babies but they run out ridiculously quickly and I will love whoever figures out how to get me a lifetime's supply of 0.3 ball point ink pens.

The latest Mary and Her Monsters illustration took me a while to compose and complete. I was trying a variety of new things with the linework (by which I mean I put thought into it at all) and a lot has changed about me and my circumstance since beginning the drawing. The monster is from one of the earlier designs for my monster in my SIAF Project (that ended up with Florence), and it's one I intend on using for something eventually at some time.

The composition changed several times before I was satisfied with it, and even the inking itself took hours longer than I spent on any of the other five that I've done besides this one. I think that's perhaps the reason why I like it best.

I shall blog about this illustration series again when I finish with beta Mary and set her background story in stone.
For now, I'll just keep composing and completing illustrations, hopefully.

I've made a bottle of paper stars in the past week. It's very therapeutic. I'm most of my way through the second bottle now, and when I finish this packet of paper strips it will mean that I've made five hundred or a thousand or so paper stars in a week or something I don't know I haven't been counting. I've perfected it. I know the secret to the art of paper star production.

I have also gone through emotional upheaval in the last few days, forgive me for spending a whole week mostly absent from the internet.

But I'm back. And I love you.

Live long and prosperous,

28 November, 2012

Wednesday; Nostalgia hit, double dosage.

I begin with somewhat a warning that if you don't like extended metaphors, this blog should not be on your list of blogs to watch.

The longest I've recalled living in one place was in high school with my grandparents, for six whole years. It startles me that there are people in this world who have lived in the same establishment for their whole lives. I actually can't comprehend what it's like to settle in that way.

Travelling is ingrained in me. I've drilled into myself the habit of not allowing myself to get too comfortable no matter where I go in order to never have to go through too much intensity when I need to uproot and physically separate from people, because it happens often.
Perhaps it's not that great of a way of making friends or something, I don't know, but it's how I get by.

I've only reserved a few spots in my heart where I've allowed certain people to set up camp there.
Sometimes, I don't know that they have built a house on the space they have taken until it's too late for me to not care, and I have no choice but to love them forever. That's what happened with Tin. And now I live with her.
We're practically married.
Sometimes, I'm only aware of their presence when they've dug the foundations, so I can't get rid of them or I'll be left with a hole in my life and questions about my life choices. That's what happened with Nat. She's going to be the one I consult for baby names, life changing decisions and housing locations. Nat's the one, I can tell, that I'm going to share a room with when we're insane cat ladies so we can lady cats together.
She's pretty much my twin.
Sometimes, I hand them their bricks and watch them pick a spot and smile as they accept and give them banners for their housewarming, aware of exactly how and when they built their place, and being thankful the whole way. That's what happened with Mick. I'm not sure who he'll be, yet, but he'll be there.
And that's all I need to know for now.

It's fantastic. And that's about as much of a shout out you will ever get from me, any of you.
(Clearly I'm lying because I love them too much not to constantly be talking and blogging about how great they are)

Some days my heart expands in my chest, and every time I open my mouth more love pours out. I'm not sure why those days happen, when other days I open my mouth and there's nothing but soot because my heart is weighed down.
I think I just love people. Sometimes it gets a bit much, and I have to remember that telling strangers that I love them probably isn't a good idea. I think I love people, and some days that gets me up, down and around. It gets a bit odd. I'm not sure why it happens.

I question myself often. My motives, emotions, thoughts and actions all confuse myself. I don't analyse me very well. I think too much and sleep too little, and it makes me question everything that I have to question, which can't be good for me but I'm at the age where I should be doing things that aren't good for me and I guess this can't be as dangerous as various other things that I could be doing in the eyes of those who have authority over my life.
Sometimes I do things just to see how I or others would react. It doesn't always end well.

I go Christmas shopping tomorrow, and I'm rather excited! I don't know who I'm going to give gifts to this year, but it's probably only going to be a select few since I'm rather poor constantly now and I don't believe in giving boring gifts.
I developed a habit during the early days of my friendship with Nat where every card I wrote turned into a letter. I will be writing Christmas letters, this year. It will be glorious, and knowing that those who I write to will probably keep my letters makes me a very happy individual.

I should sleep,

26 November, 2012

Sunday; Single parenting.

We'll start with the final project, this year.

Doing a whole project by oneself in animation is legitimately terrifying, I suppose. It means you have to take care of all aspects of a whole final product yourself, asking advise but ultimately deciding on the fate of a creative result by your own lonesome. There is nothing stopping your own faults from getting in the way of a fantastic result, nothing stopping things going wrong and no one else to shoulder the blame with you if and when they do.
Things will always - always - go wrong in a project. There is no stopping that.

I chose to stay safe, for this solo baby. Stay safe and stay insane. 150 A4 pages of drawings, the first of which is located at the top.
It's where I began, with observational drawing (which is code language for "following people for a reasonable amount of time before they begin to get highly suspicious of your motives and thus you must walk quickly in the other direction before they suspect you enough to alert appropriate authorities"), and where I ventured from, onwards, for 150 pages of solid effort.

A simple change of mediums produced a whole new feeling for me. I started drawing with graphites and pencils, as most do, and my favourite pencil in the world is Creatacolor's Nero pencils, because they are amazingly solid and seriously black as black pencils could possibly get.
Brush pens are something that I've discovered since the beginning of the year. I've not looked back since. Treating them the same way as pencils and Neros weren't the way to go, and I managed to phase that habit out by 8 pages into the single parent project.

I spent an average of something like 3 hours a day drawing, every day, for a solid 21 days. I've not done so much drawing in my life, possibly ever. On the first day I did something like 3 or 4 pages, and by the time it was the last day I was averaging about 6-8 pages a day.
I shaln't, however, bore you with too much of the drawing details. 
Just understand that I was drawing more than I'd ever drawing in successive days ever in my life, and the result of that was a fantastically dramatic rise in quality of drawing.

The best part was the exhibition.

When I exhibit my work or my work is exhibited, I'm not always there to see it on opening night. When I happen to be present, I always keep a lookout for the types of people to spend more than a glance at looking at my work. Habit remains as such, because on Thursday night I spent a ridiculous amount of time watching who went through my drawings, and which pages they paused upon.

Needless to say, everyone's attention is caught by completely different things. There were people stopping on pages that I'd spent much less time on, and people who admired the pages I slaved at. The best feeling was always the second half, but knowing that people liked the things that didn't take three days to perfect also gave my heart a bit of a kick (although that may have been the beers, who knows?)

I've not stopped feeling good about the 150 pages of improvement. It's like watching yourself grow in the mirror at a rate that's three times as fast as usual.

Some of the individuals I spotted really looked fantastic. I wanted to speak to many of them, but couldn't think of a conversation starter any better than "I've noticed that you have a gorgeous nose. May I draw you naked?"
Of course, I could have said that and gotten away with it. But I'd really rather not make anyone that I wish to draw naked and/or repeatedly too uncomfortable in case it decreased my already minimal chances of doing so.

Some of the faces that I saw regularly became faces that I would give personalities and generate stories for. Sometimes it got to the point where I would rather not talk to them because the person that I'd made them into had gotten much more elaborate than I would expect them to ever be like.
I'm not confident with strangers when there's nothing mutual between us, anyway. Even when there are mutual somethings. I'm just not good with strangers, even when it seems otherwise.

I've discovered that colour is really not my thing. Perhaps it will be in the future, but for now I will mainly stick to monochrome schemes and linework, because it seems like the way to go.
For now, anyway. 

Inks and watercolours may be my exception. I'm not sure. I've got three months to decide if I'm good enough at it for my other projects to involve those two beautiful, wonderful mediums. Perhaps if I had a lovely set of Chinese inks that I could make myself, everything would be better. 
Who knows, right? I'm not a fan of Indian inks, because they're not thick enough. When they dry they don't leave enough of a mark on the page, unless I use bamboo pens. That's something I've got to work around, because Chinese inks around here seem stupidly expensive.

It's a month before Christmas. I must start making my cards and collecting my gifts for my four most brilliant partners in life, crime, love and the rest. We put up the tree today, the flatmate and I, and her Christmas spirit has grown about five times it's original overwhelming size since. Everything is copper coloured on the tree, and it makes me dizzily happy that the first proper Christmas Day will be spent with someone who has changed the direction of my life. 

I have no doubt that this summer will be one of the best in my entire life. 

Farewell for now, 

23 November, 2012

Friday; Be Merry, My Love!

For old times' sake, I will start at the end.

I truly finished my first year of university today. The final exhibition of the year was over and done and packed away in boxes, and my annual Summer Doom settled in my stomach alongside the butterflies and salad.
When I was younger I dreaded the summer for familial reasons. I didn't particularly like my circumstances or, more specifically, my living arrangements, and being stuck in the same place with the same people seemed like hell.

I'm aware that this year has changed a lot in terms of both circumstance and living arrangements, but it doesn't stop the dread or the Monster. I'm not sure why, considering literally every negative aspect of my high school life has been altered so to grant me a fantastic year (which was received on my end in a spectacular fashion). My summer won't be bad at all. I'm just hoping that it will be good enough to chase my feelings of doom away.

The final exhibition was a ridiculously good night. I had an amazing time meeting friends of friends and introducing them to the family of animators, with all the work we had done in a year's worth of time surrounding us and music and alcohol... I couldn't have asked for a better ending to the academic year. The only thing that may have been even better would have been if my parents were there and proud, but I'm used to their lack of presence. I say that in the least affected manner possible.
My parents haven't been around much. More so lately, but it doesn't change much. I'm happy with it, though. I'm happy enough to just know that they're supporting my way through this.

There is literally nothing else in the world right now that I want more than to understand myself and other people in general. I've been down and I noticed that. It's a start, I guess. I have the rest of my life to grow into that aspect of wisdom that I lack.
I am falling in love with people all over again, and it's just painful, most of the time. I can grow to get used to that, I suppose. My anchors will hold me, and my fate will carry me where ever I need to be, I trust.

For every aspect of my life that has gone wrong, something has gone so very, very right. I thank God for every single person that I've met this year through something new that I've tried, or something grand that I've not missed because of circumstantial differences between this year and the past, or something fantastic that I'd have missed out on.
Animation has been one of the two best things that have happened to me in life decision making. I've learnt that there are people who will move mountains for me, and people who will move ant hills, and that I will go out of my way to shift the oceans' tides for them.

The affection I hold is limitless, because the moment I think I cannot love someone more than I do, I can. The moment I consider something to be the most I can feel for or towards someone, I will feel more. There's nothing that will make me forget the way I've felt all year, with emotions getting more intense every single day.
I still don't know if it's a good thing yet. We will see.

May the stars shine into your window tonight,

19 November, 2012

Sunday; The Nothing Monster.

We'll begin with a shadow of mine.

I don't sleep very much. This makes me neither a morning nor a night person, since all I do is avoid sleep. It entails letting go, and that is my worst skill of all the skills I possess.
I think too much. That is my curse.
Sleep's prologue is many minutes and hours of darkness in which I am completely alone with my thoughts. Combined with the factor mentioned above, sleep doesn't bring much happiness to me. I think too much and sleep too little.

When I was younger I lied so much to others and myself that there are moments of my younger life that I doubt the authenticity of. The monster started then.
It didn't do much. Just sat in my heart, most days, feeding off my lies. Those days are long gone, and it's grown a rather startling amount.

I have a tendency to switch off emotions when it gets too difficult. It wasn't ever a problem when in high school because my chances of happiness were rather low due to various different circumstances and reasons, but it grew even after I stopped the lying. Instead, it fed on my nothingness.
It wasn't numbness or shock. Just simply nothing. It responded to my acceptance of it with a string of words that formed sentences that didn't do very much as singular words, but with the power in numbers and crushing weight of each connotation I let it slowly take over me. It wasn't pleasant.

It never took too much for me to sink back inside myself and let it take over. I'm trying my hardest to never go back there again.

Going backwards in any kind of way is terrifying for me.
Unexpected backward journeys are the worst. Inevitable ones are even more frightening.

I've not drawn much today, but I'm in a soft mood. My, How You've Grown was drawn two days ago, during a bout of quiet panicking. I learnt that day that I must, when doing private illustrations, draw to suit my mood. Otherwise it ends in frustration, and that's never satisfying. Today I learnt that no matter how strange a friendship is begun, it begun with a purpose and it might take years for me to learn what that purpose is. It has been a good day of food and drink and being merry and unproductive. Nevertheless, I'm back at uni tomorrow for exhibition work.

I bid you a good day, kind stranger,

16 November, 2012

Thursday; Shall I?

Let's begin with hello.

I'm the extra blank tiles they give you in mahjong sets. I'm kind of the same thing as all the other tiles except I play no part in the actual game itself, generally, so I just kind of sit aside but I'm not very good at that. Or maybe I'm the five cent you've found on the street who's lost from the rest of the pack. Perhaps I embody society's desire to defy every characteristic category it's assigned everyone.
The point is that I lose track of myself often, I think.
I have numerous issues with life but we shall not dwell on that here. Instead, we will feast your mind's eyes on the oddity that I seem to channel well.

There isn't very much to know. Blogging is something I have never done quite right, so I might just hit the nail on the head this time, send it off and wish it dead. I write, I sing, I play guitar. I paint and draw and sketch and create and sometimes, late at night, I lay in bed and think of the path I'm travelling down. Generally in these thoughts I am not blindfolded. Sometimes I am.

There are three people in my life that I shall never let live in peace, because I've decided to have them constantly in my life. They're not travelling down the same road as I am, but we cross paths multiple times, and sometimes they piggyback me for a while. One distant day I will offer them every single drop of happiness that I have left, and then shove it in their faces and run away because they are far too generous to accept any of it graciously.

Last summer bought a world of change into my life, and perhaps this one will too. I wait in anticipation for the four months to pass and my life to emerge on the faraway shore, covered in glitter and possibly some sort of oil and pollution. Life's pretty great, without the rainbows and whatnot. I've grown an eye for reality.

I've not drawn anything decent today, but I've bought an amazing stash of secondhand clothing. That's got to amount to something. And made a journal blog! That's got to be pretty great.

Goodnight, my dears,