It Had Potential...

There are many times that I wish I could just stop thinking. But I can't. I don't know how people meditate, but the only way I can stop thinking about one thing is by focusing on another. I don't understand the idea of clearing one's head. All I can really grasp is tackling one problem at a time. I doubt I'm the only one.

I guess I could just say everything that I've been thinking about lately, but a lot of that is personal and I'm not really ready to tell the world right now, if ever. And there's too much of everything else that I probably won't have the will to write it all.

So. What have I been up to lately?

Well. I'm back in Orlando. That's good news. I started this class called processes and ideas of art. Basically I'm getting a grade for making a WWI plane model for the first project. It's awesome.

I'm also teaching myself Japanese. Again. I'm rather ashamed of how much I forgot, but this time I don't want to forget any of the German that I've learned, so I'm going to have to start reading and listening to things in German. I might not be coherent in English after this summer. When I learn a language it's not like I'm learning a new language, it's more like I'm adding new words and phrases to what I already know. I just have to remember that not everyone knows what those words mean. What has become common knowledge to me is known by few others around me. I should probably learn Spanish. That way I could use it more often...

Just for the record, I have no interest in learning Italian.

I really hope someone got that...

Anyway.

I was going to keep writing, but I think I'm going to go read some scriptures in German and go to bed. Yeah. Sounds good.

Creative Rut

Uh... Hi.

I have a problem.

I don't know what to write.

Or do.

For ANYTHING. Not for this blog, not for drawing, not for writing.

I'm in a rut.

Normally I get out of these ruts by playing video games, but that hasn't worked these past two weeks. I took a walk in an awesome rainstorm and that helped a little, but not very much.

I think it's because I'm not in Orlando. I'm not comfortable. I don't have anyone here that I can talk with that will encourage creativity. Actually, I don't have anyone that will actually listen, so that's annoying. I could just come up with ideas on my own, but they really come to life when I have someone to tell them to, first.

For example, I have this idea of doing a bunch of drawings of people in the rain. And just typing that out makes me want to start drawing. I get these visions in my head. They already look like my style, too. They look like something that's just waiting to be drawn. I can see the faces, the water, the hair. It's beautiful. But if I don't have anyone to discuss the plan with, I get a little... unmotivated. It's weird. Just like I'd rather finish my homework with someone next to me rather than all by myself.

Anyway. Yeah. I have few ideas right now. It's frustrating. It doesn't help that I also have very little motivation.

I want to start writing and illustrating my own stories. I'm not talking about comic style, but that earlier post with the picture and the writing? Yeah. That's what I want to do. Maybe longer than just a page each, though...

I don't have any ideas for stories, though. Not new ones, at least. I suppose I could just work on old ones, huh. I might just do that until I come up with something new.

And now I've got a start. Cool.

Home and Crying

So, I'm in Tallahassee. Just for a week, then I'll be back in Orlando.

I'll admit that being home is really hard for me. Especially when I am treated like the family therapist and my Mom or a sibling comes to me and just complains to me. It would be okay if we talked about other things, too, but all I hear are negative comments about one person or circumstance. I try to change the focus of the conversation, so we can feel better and not dwell on things of the past that can no longer be changed. I always end up just getting hurt, feeling like people can feel like they can just talk to me as if I were a wall. As if I didn't want to say anything, as if I didn't want to hear any good news. My feelings become ignored.

Coming to Tallahassee this weekend was a bigger sacrifice for me than some might think. I like Orlando, and I'm not really ready to face the reality of having to move back to Tally in July. I don't feel welcome here, but I know my family needs me here.

Another small problem is that I don't really feel at home in Orlando anymore. I'm so bad at making and keeping new friends. I'm satisfied with a small group and before I know it, they've either moved away or moved on to (apparently) better friends. People overwhelm me. New people even more so. A lot of new people and I fidget so much and just end up making a fool of myself.

Someone once told me that she's never seen me cry. That's because she's never seen me alone. I pretend to be strong when surrounded by people, but when I'm with only one person, tentatively talking about the hurts and struggles that I'm facing; that's when I cry. And let me tell you, when I cry, I bawl. Right now? As I'm writing this post? Bawling. Like a little child. It's pathetic. I've lived my whole life dealing with the same situations, the same problems and I still get hurt. Shouldn't I be used to it by now?

Test Run

This is a new idea that I had to write and draw a bunch of stories. Some will be like this, most won't be quite the same in content and such. Let me know what you think and I'll think about continuing the project. 

A Short Story

The Girl on the Motorcycle


A dramatization of real events... or something like that

I had seen her so many times, riding her motorcycle to the Art building early in the morning every week. Seeing her became an expectation and I found myself wondering who this girl is. I had never searched for her, but she stood out whenever I was in the same place she was. And I couldn't help putting pieces of information together. It's just how I work. It comes with being an artist. I absorb everything I can and put all of the information given to me - intentionally or not - together.

The first time I had recognized her off of her bike was when I was walking to my class early in the morning and I realized that I knew the vest that she was wearing. Not very many people wear protective vests while riding a motorcycle, so it wasn't hard to put the pieces together. She had short hair styled in a subtle faux-hawk. Not surprising, given her choice of dress and the fact that I had never seen her hair peeking out of her helmet.

I never saw her toting the too recognizable drawing or painting pad, so that was out. She never carried ceramic or sculpture materials, either. She had to be either a teacher, or a digital arts student. Her association with other students made me assume fellow student, but not a new one. She was either upper level or in the master's program. The way she dressed and held herself was much like an artist, but there was something about her that told me that she was studying one of the graphic arts available. It was in her helmet and her vest. She was clearly drawn to the computer look. Not the bike, that doesn't leave much to tell me, because I don't know how or why she rides that particular bike.

She would never ride above the speed limit and her bike didn't have one of those obnoxiously loud mufflers like most bikes do. These two things told me that she either cares about her safety or she respects the law. Most likely both, knowing that the law is there to protect her, so she's going to follow it. This also gives a peek into her personality. She clearly likes riding a bike, so she likes the freedom, thrill and fun that comes with that, but she also knows the risks of riding along a bunch of mindless drivers that don't know how to drive around a bike. Fun, yes, but respectful, too.

Then I saw her walking. Not at school, but in my neighborhood. The first time it was just after sunset, she was holding hands with some man who was clearly important to her. They were walking a dog that looked like a beagle mix. Because she was with someone else, I couldn't make the assumption that she lived in the same neighborhood as me until I saw her again, walking the same dog, alone. She didn't even have it on a leash that time, but it stayed close to her. She loved her dog enough for it to stay close to her, but she didn't let it do whatever it wanted. She was alpha. There was no question about that.

I often found myself slightly unsettled by how much I knew about her without even trying. I've never said a single word to her. How could someone be so unguarded about who they are that some stranger could just pick up who she was without even trying? She either doesn't know it, or she just doesn't care. From what I know about her - limited assumptions, really - she probably just doesn't care. That's what drew my attention to her in the first place.

Confidence.

Her posture says that she's ready to take on the world if she has to, but she doesn't want to. Her subtle attention to detail shows that she cares just enough to get by in the world, but nothing more than that. She has personality and she has the respect of a stranger.

I doubt that I am the only one.

Not Very Exciting, Sorry.

So I walked to the Walgreens just down the street from me and it's kind of surprising how much can happen in just that one little walk. First of all, my neighbors are kind of sketchy. Anyway. I saw my old roommate, Lili on her bike and I got to talk to her for a minute as we were waiting for the signal to change so we could cross. She on her bike, me on my feet. I'll be honest, it was kind of weird that someone I used to see all of the time is no longer around. I'm not sure how I feel about it.

Another thing I noticed is how I don't really care how bad I sweat/smell until I'm in closed, air-conditioned buildings. I live in Florida; sweating comes with the territory and if you want to live here, you can't pay attention to how much you're sweating or else you'll either never leave your house or never stop showering (That would be weird. You'd be so pruney.) Probably both.

Thirdly, walking is fun. Especially if you don't have a particular schedule to meet. The world is so pretty. The sky is so blue and the clouds so pure, that I find it hard to find anything wrong with looking up. (think about that metaphorically, too. Pretty cool.) Anyway, walking feels so natural. I can just go out and let my mind wander, where I sort through everything that has happened or could happen or that I want to happen. It's kind of like dreaming, just a different kind of stress than sleeping.

Fourth. I really want to travel somewhere and I'm a little surprised to say that walking to the Walgreen's has curbed that extreme itch just a little. It satisfied just enough of that wanderlust that I'm constantly plagued with that I can handle it for a little while more. Weird how that happens.

And that's just about it for my trip to Walgreen's. I mean, there's one more thing, but I've decided to devote that to a completely different post later on.