Sometimes I have a lot to say. Sometimes I do not.

Perhaps. It’s the weather.

Woke up this morning and felt the miracle of good health coming upon me like a freight train…Okay, it actually took getting to class in one piece and drinking a Gatorade to really feel it, but I knew when I woke up that all would be well in my soul soon enough. I hesitated about going to class since I still felt crappy… I also knew I’d have to start painting and painting my first stroke for a project in class is nerve racking. I figured that I could stay in my room, email my teacher about my ailment, and be able to actually start the paintings all by my lonesome the way that I like it. There’s some kind of odd pressure about being around 15 other people and putting the first stroke of paint on canvas. I sat in class for a good hour and sanded my canvases that I had gesso-ed before I was sick while I gathered the nerve to actually start. It turns out everyone in my class feels the same way. It's pretty hilarious. We’re all in the same boat scooting along the best ways we know how. Finally, I got around to it and made my attack. Be confident in all things, I say. I'm working on it. I should take a class on assertiveness. I read about those once.

People are so sweet. I can’t even count how many people have offered to go get me soup or tea or food or medicine these past few days. Love 'em all. I am so lucky.

Sometimes, like right now, I sit at my computer writing or thinking, and I want to turn on some music.. I get sidetracked, forget to turn it on, and end up sitting in silence for a good fifteen minutes before I remember that I wanted music in the first place.  

Just did it again. 

I do appreciate silence. It gives time to actually think without interruption. Sometimes I just drown out thoughts with music, which isn’t the best policy. 

Just did it again… 

On my cursor’s journey to the itunes icon on my computer, it gets lost quite often. Oh well.

Now. I have tunage. Can’t get enough of Esau and the Giant. Talk about pure young talent that’s really going somewhere. Calling it. 

Figured out what I’m doing for my semester “artist’s book” project today. I’m excited about it. Must start collecting pronto before all the books in the world get gobbled up by the Art103 students at UT. Go big or go home, right.

Shifting through some of the blogs from my English class and different randoms found on blogspot... Love seeing how everyone has a different point of view, central things that they write about, and all the different ways people choose to write. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I think writing is healthy. Mmm, everyone has a vision, a way of expressing themselves…in words, in no words, in pictures, in actions, in feelings, in dress, in paintings, in frustration, you know. Does saying that I believe all people are artists take away from the fact that I want to be an artist? Or that I am going to school to be an artist? A fine artist actually is what I shall become. Inspiration and influences. Everywhayyyer! What grinds my creative gears may not grind someone else’s. The imagination is a beautiful thing. I love seeing people’s art and the way that it somehow shows exactly who they are in every way. I love it. It makes me wish everyone was realllllly an artist of some sort just so I could blatantly see what some of their insides look like. I wonder what kind of art my sister would make. She calls it “stupid” sometimes, but that’s a go-to word for her, so ya knooow… I wonder if she’d get past her pink glitter phenomena stage and do something unexpected. I’d like to make her try. Hmph. 

My brain is being stuffed with visual literacy, and I love it.

I hear someone’s phone vibrating through these cinder block walls. As faint as it is, I still think it’s mine.

"What what what are you doing?" they say. I do not know. I do not know.

Oh please, oh please. Excuse my poor grammar. 

...probably drawing more attention rather than doing any good. Consider these unedited.