Travel Tips

It is hard to keep my attention focused on things. I've been laughed at for my habit of "wandering off and touching the shiny things", so because of this it is hard for me to keep at anything creatively. But I try, I really do, at least when the spirit moves me.

Some things I am good at, some I admit I am really bad at, but I like to get lost in it sometimes, and when I bore of one outlet, I move to something else. My family would kill me for the closet full of art supplies I hardly touch.

Sometimes I can spend hours just cutting photos from magazines and pasting them back together the way I see fit.

It keeps me quiet for a while.

Sometimes I can draw. I am really proud of my pear! :)

I was recently informed that my shadow su*ks, and I guess for the first time I realized that. I accept it. My shadowing su*ks, but I am still proud :)

Same story with the bowl...

Painting really irritates me. I get really frusterated and tend to make a huge mess out of myself. But once in a while I try because my aunt and uncle buy me paints and canvases every year for christmas, and I sure have to do something with them I guess as they take up all my closet space.

It isn't my most favorite thing to do in the world. According to a good friend of mine that actually is a painter, I don't let it ~flow~ from me, or something annoying and flowery like that.

I get too frusterated waiting for the ~flow~.
So I fingerpaint instead and make messes.

grr...

Sometimes I get wicked crafty and after spending an afternoon at a craft store will come up with some grand scheme to occupy myself for the next week and make a mess out of my apartment.

I made clocks for Christmas last year out of CDs.

It was fun. Everyone seemed to like them a bunch...but the glue got to my brain...

So I switched to trying to make quilts, my first one is below.
That got old real fast, especially after I kept stabbing myself with the dang needles every 5 minutes.

And then sometimes I get all "hand-to-forehead" dramatic and write...

"so the clock strikes one once again and once or twice today. i breathe in again and out, i close my eyes a million times over and not once am I moved. i turn my drowning face to face the other side of you, and feel a small freedom in the mask of 'out of sight', in the mask of 'out of mind'. i feel my skin pulsate, blue under the blue strung out strung up lights gazing down over a hermetically sealed room, sealed away from the strangulation of everyday inevitable death. your eyes are blue, brown, hazel, green and gold. your smiles are wide, shy, bright and mysterious. your hair is different shades for different days for different names, but don't you know, as well as i do, it is always, always the same. the air chills under the coldness of the two, three, four souls lingering in the walls. shivering to keep myself warm i pull the cover a bit tighter over my translucent body, growing more opaque every day. the bed still smells of the last, still stings of the past, and i wonder at the amazement of it all, of it all, of nothing at all. i stare at fingernails, chipped of the once strong, bright colors, colors of every hue and make, now worn, torn and faded. and still with all of your skin underneath. laughing on the inside, inside of the nonsense of it all, laughing at nothing, at nothing at all. your breath always sounds the same, nothing special of the dead air swirling around me, nothing unique of your insides, swirling and sharing with my blood and my bloodstream, streaming with murky fluids...crippling my purity and innocence. i was that once, i still am for all you know, but little if at all do any of you know."

The end!