Case of Convenience.

Born with free-will, we make decisions, we make choices, we make mistakes.

We take chances, we take opportunities, we take what we are given.

But I’m still finding it very difficult to believe that some people think there is a God who wants us all to behave all the time.

Like a primary school teacher, God wants us all to stand in straight lines, and hold our fingers to our lips as we walk down the corridors of life. Because when we reach the classroom, God either throws us out of class, or rewards us with candy for behaving.

But aren’t we all God’s children anyway? Would God forsake any of us, if we couldn’t keep as quiet as the rest?

In an Onion Patch.

What’s happening. Its all falling apart inside Outside

everywhere

e     v     e    r   y     w  h    e   r      e

Never is a promise.

My feelings swell and stretch; I see from greater heights

Some days, you just don’t feel like moving. You feel like nothing’s moving anyway, and you just sit and stare out into deep damp skies (ironically for me, through a closed window). And you listen, waiting for the whispers to stop. Now, all I here is the buzzing of my fan and Fiona Apple singing at her piano.

What a beautiful day to draw. What a beautiful day to paint.

Just long enough to explain.

Modern Art is driving me crazy.
Modern Art in the Common Culture is driving me nuts.
The Return of the Real is driving me insane.
Investigating Issues in Art  is driving me up the wall.

I’m being driven everywhere.

It’s funny how your eyes open when you’re eighteen. I’ve probably noticed many things already (before actually turning 18) but it’s a strange age. Forget the superficial things. At eighteen, you’re six years older than a child, and three years from being an adult. It’s time to strike a balance between getting my way, and giving way. Time to be serious, and time to have fun. Time to lose it, and time to know when not to. It’s difficult, to find that balance. Because not everybody behaves as they should, and that leaves the rest of us less room to be ourselves, sometimes =/

Well, Julie. It’s time to grow up, and grow out.

Say goodnight and go.

Oh, why’d you have to be so cute
It’s impossible to ignore you
Must you make me laugh so much?
It’s bad enough we get along so well
Say goodnight and go. 

Some nights, I’m left away thinking about the previous day, worrying about the next. 

Thinking about school, worrying about learning. 

Thinking about mistakes, worrying about consequences.

Thinking about you, worrying about us. 

But not too much, of course. 

Say Goodnight and Go =]

Feels right, feels wrong.

Am I over-sensitive? I sometimes feel ashamed of myself when I get jealous, when I get protective, when I get concerned. Perhaps I am over reacting, but it does seem like good reason to worry. In a million ways, I feel disrespected, and taken for granted. For the simple fact that he didn’t even ask if it would offend. It was a statement. Not a suggestion, not a request. Nothing remotely resembling ‘asking’. It was a statement. But fine, I’m just overreacting, like I do most of the time. It’s not like you’re mine, exclusively. 

 

I am daring
I am expressive
I am confident

I will restrain
I will release
I will repossess myself

I have faith
I have trust
I have purpose

I have You. Thank you for blessing me, again.  

A drawing a day.

What matters in a drawing? Accuracy? Technique? Personal style? Expression? Self-expression? 

I think I haven’t got it yet. Far from it, actually. It’s difficult to draw people and ‘capture their essence’ on one piece of paper. I can’t even draw myself properly. Poot.