Why go to art college at all?

I was posed a question from one of the people in the film department. One of the obviously more experienced and older students. He asked why in the world would I need a Bachelors in Fine Arts when all I need to do is submit my work to some gallery and have them hang it. I never need like arguing with people that didn't know what they were talking about. I'm not saying that the guy is stupid. I'm just saying he's ignorant. I was tempted to ask him the same question only switching Fine Arts with film.

The bottom line is this: There is a lot more that goes into any art form than simply putting lines on a piece of paper or shooting something onto film.

Cold Room

My room got colder overnight. I hate living on top of the garage. I hate the fact that my room isn't insulated as well as the rest of the house too. The good thing is I can always tell when autumn really does come around.

Love is More Important Than School

I finished my work that is due tomorrow rather quickly, but felt like there was no need to do the rest of the things that are not due until Wednesday. God, I'm lazy.

I talked to Christina about how I need a new distraction. She had someone in mind almost immediately! That's so cool! I'm really sick of using all these personal sites and getting all the weirdos on there. I mean, for once I want someone at least in my generation hitting on me. If not, then someone as cute as Coffey.

I don't know what it is, but I feel a certain kinship with Christinia. Maybe it's because we are both Asian. Maybe it is because we are both kind of alike in the way we were brought up. Hell, maybe it's because we are two totally different people! For all I know, it is probably because I need someone to latch on to, and she's it since Ken and Jaime are now an item.

Ken and Jaime. They are so cute together. It makes me jealous, but happy for them.

So here I am again, blogging more than I really need to. I mean, this is part of my English and Creativity assignment, but I'm only suppose to do two or three entries a week!! How many times am I blogging? At least twice daily?? Don't you think that's a bit of an overkill?

It's late. I need my sleep still. If only I was 100% better from this damn bug that hit me.

Monday, Monday (La La La La La)

It's back to the normal routine today.

I woke up not wanting to go, but knew I had to. I'm not even done with what I need to do, but it's not like this is the first time or anything. Oh well. This afternoon that value chart for Drawing 1 takes first priority.

So this is how it feels to be burnt out, huh?

Everything seems to irk me. Angry techno music soothes me. If I hear one more command out of anyone, I'll snap and scream and complain. If I have to draw one more line of anything, I won't even try as hard as I used to. I've reached it. My limit as to how much I can take. I have found my limit as to how long I can work on school work straight without losing it.

The magic number is eight. Eight whole hours. Eight fucking whole hours of nothing but drawing and painting and contrast and balance. Eight hours. And I didn't even get paid time and a half!!

I can't relax now. To do that, I need either porn or sleep. I can't sleep while I'm this stressed. The only way to destress is to blog or play video games. I'm not in the mood to play games. This blog is only helping me not pull my hair out, which is a good thing. If it didn't, I wouldn't have even made it to the third paragraph.

Thank God the things I have left to do are not due until later in the week.

Must.... Not... KILL... FAMILY!

You know how some artists are normally the ones that the family never understands? I feel like I'm one of those people.

While cleaning my paint palette, I used one half of the sink to soak it in. Everyone starts screaming how unsanitary it is as if we are being inspected by the FDA or something! It's just a damn sink! It's not even the half we use! And it's stainless steel!! You'd have to burn germs into it in order for anything to even stay in there after one rinse!

Then, because I had enough of everyone's complaining, I go and scrub what I can of the paint out of it. Mom gets all up an arms about how I'm using the wrong kind of sponge. The wrong kind of sponge?! What the fuck is she talking about?! She said I was using the one "we use for food." You read that right. I asked her in a smart ass tone because, quite frankly, I had enough of it, "What? Do you wash food with a sponge before you cook it?" She meant that it was the sponge for the dishes. Same deal with the sink, if you ask me. How the hell can the same sponge I use transfer lead or whatever it is from paint that makes it poisonous while she is cleaning with the same damn fucking sponge?!

I give up. I'm living in a house of nothing but Adrian Monks from USANetwork.

Painting - Good Ventilation = Nice Buzz

I'm on my break. Two paintings in almost four hours or so can really cause one to nearly kill one's self... especially if you do not have that well of a ventilation. This is only the second time I've been affected by paint. Ironically, the first time was also at Watkins back when they were in downtown. The painting students were doing a mural in the staircase. Unfortunately no one knew how to open the windows, so everyone there was exposed to the fumes. This included the kids in the Young Artist Program (YAP). Guess who was in that group? You bet your life it was me!

I would blog saying that I'm not happy with how my paintings came out, but that would just be the normal artist respond to any work. Like Coffey said once, I'm starting to hate not being able to find time to be able to do my own art. It's almost like they are trying to kill our old style or something.

I'm so far behind on my drawing journal it's pathetic. Two days lost and I can't cheat my way into making three drawings (two for the days miss and one for today) because I still have one painting left to do and a value chart that I have to make perfect. I have my plate full today.

I really hate the fact that I was sick for two fucking days only to get better on the last day possible for me to do work. Damn my body's immune system!

I Hope I'm Better

I hope that I am better than I was yesterday around this time. The reason why is because I'm able to get mad about things without getting a headache about it. I guess that's a good sign.

I concluded that since I was able to type these pass few days, I might as well knock off Creativity off my to-do list. I might do some reading this afternoon too while I wait for the rest of my laundry to finish up.

Man, no one woke me when my laundry load was done. It was sitting there since noon when I left to take a nap. They didn't bother waking me until just awhile ago when they had to leave for their haircut.

Haircuts are so over rated. I want my ponytail back.

I did some browsing awhile ago. Apparently everything I want is going down in prices, and I have no way of buying any of them! Damn economy, and damn my lack of knowledge on how to get a job correctly. Oh well, to complain now would be a fool's choice. It's my own fault I'm in this situation that I'm in. Still, it really irks me how I found this just after learning that the GameCube is now the same price of the GBA SP I have. Damn my greed.

I guess this is a good sign that I'm getting better. This blog. At least, I hope it is.

Walking Washers Don't Wash

I am still sick. I sit here typing because when I talk I sound awful. Meanwhile, the washing machine walks and continues to try to break out of the wash room. I hope it doesn't cause any damages that I know I cannot repair. The things I do just to kill a bug in my bed sheets. Apparently, however, my sickness has affected my judgment in how to wash my bed items. I hope nothing stupidly fatal happens.

I am still in no condition to paint or do a value chart. I can type and read what I need to just fine, but I know that if I do, I won't be able to comprehend it. My mind is so easily distracted now in the silence that used to help me read clearly. Distracted by this damn illness. I don't remember anything hitting me this hard. I really hope that this doesn't spill over into tomorrow. If so, I'm so screwed.

Strangely enough, I feel better when I'm here typing and blogging than I do doing anything else. When I try to sleep, I become restless. When I try to do my work, I cannot concentraite. When I need to do my chores, I don't feel like it. But when I'm here blogging, I feel at peace. I feel better. I feel safe. Maybe it's my head acting up again. You know, distortying my thinking or something. I don't know what it may be, but I feel better when I'm here, and that's all that matters.

I wish my mother would just quit playing all these waltzes for my sister's debutante ball. I mean, I see all these kids out there not liking what they are doing, not liking to waltz, and if worst comes to worst, not liking the ball. I love my sister. Don't get me wrong on that. I just really wish my mom wouldn't put so much effort into her party and fail to remember that she did not do the same kind of thing for me when I turned 18. Maybe when I turn 21. Doubt it since I don't drink and I've never gone clubbing.

If I had one birthday wish when I turn 21, it would be to be able to have an arcade of games all to myself and to whoever I bring along. Ken, Jaime, and Christina are on the top of that list. Unfortunately, I know Christinia probibly won't be able to make it. She works like crazy to put herself through college. It almost makes me wish I didn't screw things up with the boys just so I can help her out.

Yes, you read that right. I still think about the boys. I don't know why. I can't get them out of my head. Anything Disney related I think of Jack. Channel surfing and seeing a BoFlex commercial reminds me of James. And every time I see a skater on ESPN2 I think of Andrew.

Why can't I let go?

I really need Christina to hook me up with someone to help me forget. I need to talk to her the next time I see her and tell her my problem. Too bad the only time I'll get to do that is probibly Tuesday.

I Am Officially Sick

Some time after I got home, I started to feel really shaky. It turns out that I caught some bug or something and is now sick, which is rare for me. Thank God that it isn't during a school day. I can't afford to miss any classes, keyword being "afford" (hint hint). We don't really have any meds around the house, so I was stuck with good old Raman chicken noodle soup and Halls.

Did you ever go to sleep once with like a piece of food stuck in your mouth just right so that it doesn't kill you in your sleep but still messes with you in some weird way? That was last night for me. I fell asleep as I had a Halls in my mouth. I ended up dreamed these really strange dreams. Then again, knowing how I dream to begin with, that's not saying much.

I dreamed that I got kicked out of Watkins because I was killing everyone's imagination, which apparently was vital to college survival. On my way out, I found a box of remotes with several people's name on them. For some reason, I found Ken's and hit the reset button on it. The next thing I knew, I got a call from Ken asking if I wanted to go see a movie with him and Charlie. This is the exact same phone call that I got back when I first met him, remember? Damn my brain. In the background I heard someone ask Ken if he was alright. I then find myself in a car singing about mocking birds. I wish I could remember the song.

Right now, I just wish that my mom would respect the fact that I am sick and close the damn front door. It's only making me feel worst.