Monday, August 31, 2009


I had a sudden urge to pull out my sketchbook, which is surprising since I thought the visual artist inside of me died along with my Gr. 8 self. Sorry, I bailed halfway through because I realized I kinda suck, and my drawing cannot do my dream headphones (BOOSTED Grande Oversized DJ headphones in Rainbow Sherbert, no hint intended) justice. Actually, the real reason I bailed was because I looked at the clock, and it was suddenly almost 3 AM. In otherwords, it was way too late to fix the repulsive proportions and shading. This is why I don't draw on a daily basis. And also, I really need to develope an awareness of time. Anyways, if you have cash to burn, and you're feeling a little generous, you know what to do (Yet again, no hint intended).

Between all the awkwardness, flusteredness, "What the hell am I doing?"s, insecurities, putting myself downs, regrets, freaking out, over-reactions, silent prayers of distress to God to not completely destroy my life as I know it, bitterness, over-thinking, making myself sad for no real reason, self-conscienciousness, and paranoia, especially the paranoia, that goes on in my hormone-pumped teenage head, I often don't take the advice of Audioslave.
Personally, I don't even know who "myself" is, but deep down in my subconscience mind, I know. And I'm getting there.
I'm glad for that, because half of the time, when I forget about all that crap and free myself from my own thoughts, I'm able to act upon it. The other half of the time, I'm basically my own personal wrecking ball.
I hate making myself more complicated than I need to be. Then again, being a basketcase has pretty much become a part of who I am, hasn't it?

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