I've been studying a lot which is fun. Challenging. But also in ways very relaxing. There's something to be said about sitting down to really properly devote yourself to a topic, as opposed to going from one subject to another a little bit at a time. I'm taking my education in great big swallows at the moment, and it's made room for an unexpected benefit.
It's allowed me to draw again, which I haven't done in months. I like drawing, despite not being anything special at it. I doodle. It helps me keep still through the lectures, and that's all that matters I suppose.
It's also interesting since drawing has often been a way for me to process emotions. Not in the same way writing is, of course, because nothing can be that. But it's useful in different ways, letting me fingers unfurl and play out and see what it is that's lodged inside my head for a minute. And why. So many questions, right?
I inscribed this with a verse from the poem I wrote here last week, you'll see. So there's some wilderness resting on my shoulder, for sure. There's something womanly and weighted, the blood pulsing under my nipples. Something there. The prospect of new life, of old. Of change, that eternal ebb and flow of life. There's miracle, but I don't know if that's in me - if all these things are really just in me, and I'm just using my pens to hide it inside these little black pages that I love.
I'd rather tell them than the world how I think there's something special. Something sacred. Something worth sketching that shines from the inside-out.
I'm no great artist, nor do I claim to be. But I've really been enjoying this return to my colors when I worried for a while they'd just sit and dry out. That I might.
And it seems to make me focus better on my classes, so that's a bonus. A bonus within a bonus. Funny how life works sometimes.
What's you stuck on, baby? I hate baby. Worse things to be called, for sure, but...urgh. So what's in my ears? Wax and too much silver for Sunday Mass. Anything else?
You must know it's the words that speak me
I don't own them, can′t control them
Nobody can
There's something about this man's voice, about this man's suffering, the honesty of it, that greatly appeals to me. He makes me want to sit down and have a good cry, but makes me smile at the same time. I love it when music does that to me.
I lost track of this amazing woman for a long time. I'm glad the Universe found a way to wheel her back to me.
I love stuff like this. Experimental. Quirky. Stuff you might've liked.
Thanks 
