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Paintings.

Ink.

Painted a lot more today. I need a scanner. The photographs I take of the paintings never do them justice.

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So, I painted today. I don't paint that often, because I prefer to do it with ink, which is messy, and more expensive than paint. I was behooved to do so today. Suddenly seized with inspiration. I slung, brushed, finger-painted and glued furiously. All of the photographs are bad images of the paintings, but, alas, I have no scanner. 

Naturally, being an artist, I hate everything that I do. But I hate these slightly less. I know that they're not that good. But I feel like they hold the motion and the feel that I was putting into them. 

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This is my toy elephant. I sleep with him. Mike gave him an awful, sexual personality which I can't seem to disassociate from him. I mean, who wants to be trunk-slapped?

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What? Totally counts.

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On Ian's Camera!

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(On Ian's camera.)

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I have ugly feet.

Beauty

Sometimes I wonder about all of the beautiful things in the world. If you asked anyone if there were beautiful things in the world, they would naturally agree, because everyone can remember being moved by the mere existence of something else. That is what I think that something that is beautiful is. A beautiful thing is something that, no matter your state of mind (or, on occasion, especially because of your state of mind) makes you pause for a least a split second and just revel in everything that makes up whatever that object is. Sometimes, it can be as simple as a painted canvas that you pass in a hallway. You might stop and look at it, taking in all of the brushstrokes, lines and dashes of color that come together to make the image. Then you might reflect on the image itself. One way or another, a beautiful object might have more meaning than it would inherently possess based upon whomever is gazing upon it at the moment. And the meaning, the intent, and the thought that is separate from an object that causes such reflection is what I think is one of the most special things in the entire world.

There is something so fragile and fantastically human in the act of finding something beautiful. When I look at someone I love, someone whom I consider a beautiful person, I realize that I find them beautiful because of the love that I have for them. They might be handsome without the feeling or sensory memory that makes them truly beautiful in my eyes, however, I think any sort of beauty is inherent in the projected feelings of the viewer. 

I'm not sure why I was thinking about this.

Also, my blog clock is a liar. It is five AM, not two.

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So, I realize that all of these pictures are boring and are all taken in my apartment. I will eneavor to get out and take more interesting, adventurous images in the coming week.

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Hey look. Pink eye.

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Mah undahpants.

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LOOK.

LOOK INSIDE MY MOUTH.

THAT IS ALL.

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The creepy ass Spirit tokens that I made for the express purpose of creeping people out at Regionals.

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Bah, Humbug

I am still continuing on with my project. I just don't feel like uploading right now.

Mike is gone to South Carolina. I'm sad, but this image made me lol.

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I's Nekkid!

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Sexy face.

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I promise to stop being lazy with these soon.

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Most conceptually interesting of the photographs that I took of myself the day of the Nine Inch Nails concert.

Astound.

I imagine that what I felt for a tiny moment tonight must be what drives people to religious obession. The feeling that there is something universal that binds us all together and makes everything shine with meaning and depth would be worth seeking- be it in religion, music, art. But not even the pursuit is most worthwhile. Being able to let yourself feel it is half of it. The amount of control that you have to release to be able to experience such a connectedness requires an abdication of self, almost.

This is rambling, I know.

Tonight, I went to my first, and as it turns out, likely last Nine Inch Nails concert. (Reznor announced that after this tour, they're going away for a while, if not forever. The shirts that they were selling all said 'Wave Goodbye' on the backs, and some even had the dates 1989-2009 on them.) I felt a moment of the connection I rambled about. It was amazing. It was pure. And somehow, I feel changed for it.

Also, I might be a little in love with Robin Finck. Unrelated, but still true. 

Jane's Addiction doesn't matter. Even if they didn't naturally fall flat when put right after a band whose songs are laden with meaning, the pop-y washed out disinterested has-been rockers of yesteryear bored a majority of our surrounders. 

That is all for tonight.

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I have new hair! And I feel like it is a welcome change. The red is hard to maintain, and I needed something new. Tonight, I am throwing a party, celebrating both the end of the semester and Mike's birthday. I know no one reads this, but if, by some strange chance someone is who isn't already coming, you should. Tomorrow, I am going to a Nine Inch Nails concert with my best friends. It will be a good day.

Due in part to events that occured earlier this week, I will be looking for another job. I am still getting hours, but not enough to pay rent with, so I'm going to spend the days I have off of this upcoming week to search for further employment. I don't want to leave, but I gotsta gotsta pay that rent, yo.

I like my hair. <3

Also, I'm over a month on this project. I need to get better about uploading a few at a time instead of what is, essentially, a week's worth. Guh. But what a week.

On an up note, I do believe I either aced my art history exam, or came awfully close to doing so. And in the process of studying for it, cemented Wassily Kandinsky as my most favorite artist. 

Party soon, I need to get ready.

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Teefs. I brush dem.

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These are my feet. 

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This day was really awful. I almost got fired. I really don't feel like getting into it. Just trust me. Awful.

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So, I forgot today. It was my first day of 8-5 working, and I was exhausted when I got home. My bad.

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It was Mike's Birthday. I love him. It was a good day.

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I really didn't mean for this to look as brooding and dark as it came out. I just pointed at my face. I suppose an excess of sleep is not a good look for me.

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I was trying to figure out how I could get a shot like the scene from Life Aquatic, where Steve and Ned are pointing out in the distance as Jane looks on. I could have figured it out, but I decided that I was lazy, and that it was reading day and I didn't feel like exerting that much effort.

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My final for drawing class is above. The class didn't like it. To make things worse, the teacher told me that she was planning to put it in the foundations exhibit, and then, after critique, she told me that it was 'too large' and that they were only exhibiting the smaller works.

Sure.

I was laying down on the concrete floor in the vending machine sideroom right before my final art history class when I took this. My friend Angie looks over and asks, quite incredulously, what the hell I am doing. 

This was my last day of classes, Spring '09.

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The night before my last day of drawing class, I decided to make cookies, because we were all going to bring snacks- that was the plan.

Naturally, I was the only one who brought anything. And they hated my drawing.

This was also the day that I found out I really didn't have any loan options. Because of this, I can't take any summer classes. I really wanted to- I could stay on track to graduate when I wanted to, and this summer would have gotten my only math class out of the way, and I would have gotten to take it with Mike. Which I don't get to do now. I'm bummed about it.