Thursday, October 25, 2012


I'm a worrier. It's what I do. It's something I've always been good at, even as a child, which is probably really unhealthy, for a child to worry so much. But I was always worrying about something stupid or other. I used to worry a lot about moving. I don't know where the fear came from, but I started having bad dreams about moving away from my house. I wasn't even worried that we would leave the city and move to another one. Just that we would leave our house.

The worrying got greater and greater, especially in highschool, that I would regularly have to fight back panic. I began to worry about everything, chiefly being about being late. To combat this, I would show up everywhere upwards of one hour early, because hey, being early was better than being late.

It got worse and worse and worse... until I met Max. Now, Max is a man who worries about nothing. I'm not kidding. This is not an exaggeration. Max does not worry. I don't think I've ever seen anything phase him. He has an answer for everything, and goes about his life with a very cool demeanor. It's incredibly interesting, and most amazingly, it's started to rub off on me.

It's an awesome feeling, not to worry. I have a midterm tomorrow at 3:30, for History of Western Art II, and I am not worried. The way my teacher teaches is not from the textbook, but from her own notes. You have to take extensive notes while she's talking, which can be a pain, but it's actually pretty useful because everything is in your head then. You were listening to everything she said, and then writing it all down. So I know that I know everything, and I'll be okay. The Lisa of younger years would have been freaked right the fuck out now, but the Lisa that has been influenced by Max is one cool customer.

I don't know where I was going with this, haha, but I want to get into the habit of writing all the time. And hey! My friend Paul started a podcast! It's about all the things that I'm interested in (ie video games, internet stuff, card games, comics, etc), and you should listen to it if you also are interested in those things.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012


You know what makes me really sad? People who don't believe in Evolution. Sure, they make me pretty mad too, because COME ON, guys. Covering your ears and shouting "LALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOUUU" will only get you so far in life. But mostly they make me sad. Why?

This is a pikaia. It is one of the earliest chordates to have existed, roughly 500 million years ago. Posessing a notochord (aw yeah, I still remember my grade 11 biology), it is a distant ancestor of humans, since we belong to the phylum Chordata as well.

Isn't that amazing? A long, long, incredibly long time ago, that was us. Just a dumb looking worm swimming about in the ocean. Personally, I find this incredibly beautiful. Not the worm, he's kind of gross, but the entire process. I love sitting back and thinking about the transition that life has made of all these millenia.It's exciting, especially to think of where everything will be going in the future.

I think that some people tend to feel belittled or insignificant in the face of such enormity, and choose to ignore it in favour of "grander" theories, like Creation. But how can all this progress not be grand?! How can people not see the beauty in this slow transformation that we all get to be a part  of? I am constantly humbled, and then proud and puffed up. I worry that people don't value themselves the way they should sometimes, and the vastness of life before, life now and life to come makes them feel unimportant. It's a sad attitude to adopt. I know I have some very blunt attitudes myself towards things like this (we are just a speck in the universe, etc), but in more positive moods, I can recognize that we are all valuable stepping stones in life, in evolution.

My absolute favourite fact about the universe came to me through Neil deGrasse Tyson. It's a popular video, so you may have seen it before, but I can never get tired of watching it.

I just want people, all people, to be able to look at the world, at the universe, at life, and be able to feel what I feel whenever I think about these things. It's a great feeling.

Whoo! It's been a long time since I wrote here! I've just been so busy with school. In fact, I really should have been doing about three different things instead of writing this post, but this was more fun. More again soon! I have a bone to pick with philosophy, and you'll hear aaaall about it.

Saturday, July 28, 2012

You Are Nothing What You Seem

Drawing again: Feels good. I can see how much better I've gotten. Onward to glory!
This song: Amazing amazing, though your version is still my favourite, Christina.
Time to go to bed now because I have work at 8am: Bleh. My dad thinks that we should have 36 hour days. While this is obviously impossible, I can certainly see the benefit. So much to do, and there's never enough time.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

There's Always That

Well, I've once again spent the entire day sitting in front of my computer. It normally feels satisfying, but today seemed kind of lackluster. The saddest part is that I am honestly too shy to call up my own friends and see what they're doing.

Self loathing engaged? Self loathing engaged!

At least I drew some cool pictures today.There's always that.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Maybe You Will Say You Love Me Now

Here's a silly old poem I wrote a long time ago:

I'm not anti-girl, I'm anti-bitch
I'm not anti-truth, I'm anti-snitch
I'm not anti-faith, I'm anti-stupid
I'm not anti-love, I'm anti-cupid.

Haha, oh dear. I used to make up things like these all the time. I don't write as much as I used to, which is really a shame. But I will let you in on a secret. I... I have been writing a fan fiction. Go ahead! Mock me! See if I care! I'm really enjoying it, actually. I started it about a year or two ago, and just rememebered about it recently, so here wo go again. I want to get the whole thing written out before I publish it on FanFiction.

So maybe you want to know what it's about? You could probably guess, if you knew me well enough. It is about Fallout (more specifically, Fallout: New Vegas). My love for this game knows no end. Have you ever written a fan fiction before, or anything similar? It's actually really fun! There are some spectacular ones out there that I've read, especially when they have all their facts right. It's a great writing exercise too, for any wannabe-writers out there.

Not too much going on recently. I've been drawing more, and come up with another comic idea that may be a keeper. But as usual, I'm afraid to get it started because I hate how I eventually lose interest in everything and stop before it goes anywhere good. I like this idea though, so maybe I'll actually get it done. We'll see.

Alright, I'm kind of procrastinating right now. I should be cleaning and packing a bag, because my family is going camping on Galiano Island tomorrow for the weekend. But there's so much internet to see! So much writing to get done! So much music to listen to! So many videos to watch!

PS. have you ever listened to Darwin Deez? I finally bought one of his albums after listening to him on Youtube forever, and discovered this total gem. Not only is it a beautiful song, but it totally reminds me of Fallout. Nuclear apocalypse references? Yes please!

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Who's That Girl?

Stupid girl. Where are all your blog posts? Where's the fame, the glory? Where's your insight?
Stop stalling, girl, and get your shit together. Get writing, get drawing, get out there. Come on. 

Be back soon, you guys.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Persistent Thoughts

This dark mood persists.

I'm just sitting here, brooding. Will I ever grow out of this bullshit? The week-long self-loathing benders, specifically. Do you just wake up one day, and never again think of yourself as a useless, talentless, futureless, hopeless, plain, fat sack of guts?

Most of the time I really do like myself, but more and more frequently I just keep coming back to this shadowy corner of my mind and stay there for awhile. I know this sounds super needy, but I constantly need reassurance from other people that I'm better than the way I think of myself, and I HATE it. I hate that I have to hear it from other people and sound like an attention whore, and I hate that I can't tell myself these things when I'm having anything less than a great day. I need to hear that I'm funny and smart and pretty and talented, and that need makes me feel low.

My birthday's coming up next week, on the 29th, and I don't even care. I'm not going to do anything fun (well, I will hang out with Max all day, so that's fun), but I wish I was normal enough to do something cool for my birthday. Like have a party. Or go to a bar. Or dancing. But I can't, because even when I do go to places like that, I become so consumed with anxiety that it sucks all the joy out of everything.

I've got very conflicting views. Most of the time I want to stand out, and rise above average, but now I seem to be gravitating more towards this desire to be normal. What went wrong? Why did I stay awkward and weird while everyone else graduated to normal? Rachel's normal. Fuck, even Peter is normal. Why am I the only affected sibling?

This is a very shallow thought, but I know if I lost 20lbs I could love myself all the time. Because even if I grow up talentless and futureless, at least I'll be skinny. As I type this, I can feel decades of feminists shaking their heads at me. Well, fuck them. It would just be nice, okay?

Maybe I'll feel better after a couple hours of sleep.

Monday, June 18, 2012

A Dark Mood

Sometimes I let myself get into these very dark moods. Something mundane always sets it off. A song. A passage in a book. An anxious thought. It sweeps up on me and then I am overcome and it is too late to get out.

Today it was a song called A Penny at a Time, and the chapter in the first of the Anne of Green Gables series. Now I'm sitting here critically looking out over the mountains, the charm of the day gone. I think about my Art History final on Thursday, that I've prepared little for. If I fail, I won't be able to go back to my Fine Arts program in the fall and be with my lovely friends. I should have bought the textbook for that class, but it was $80 and while I suppose I could have afforded it, I didn't want to struggle with the resutling broke-ness that would follow. I don't know what failing will do to me. I just love going to school so much. Really, I don't truly think I'll fail, because I've been to every class and took extensive notes, and I have a knack for pulling through in situations like that, but there's a little dark fear that's constantly shadowing me.

These dark moods always make me think about Yasaman. It's not been quite a year and a half, but she's still always on the edge of my thoughts. Not as sad as before, not as bitter, but still there. She makes me think about my own future death. I know this sounds odd, but it's funny to think that we'll all die some day, isn't it? It's something we try very hard to ignore. However, I think I can comfortably state that I am not afraid of death. The dying part is unnerving, to be concious that you're in the midst of your final minutes. But the death part isn't terrifying to me. You won't be aware of it anyway, so what's to be scared about? Actually, what comforts me the most is how incredibly mundane death and dying is. It's just a process that has been happening for a millenia, and will continue to keep happening after.

What's really important to me aboutmy own death is the way my body is dealt with. Now, as anyone could tell by reading this blog, I am a staunch atheist, so no heaven for me, and even if there is, I don't want to go. Ever since I read about eco-friendly burials, it's been what I've wanted. The whole point is that you will eventually erode within the earth, and become dirt. I think it's wonderful. The way burials happen today pretty much just doom your corpse to become toxic sludge in a cement-lined casket, and that to me is a more abhorrent thought than Hell any day.

As for the envirmonental aspects of this, I'm going to confess that I really couldn't care about that. It's nice that they're so harmless, but that wasn't the selling point for me. I just feel that it's really important for me to "return to the earth". That will be my rebirth. Before, my only worry was the availability of cemeteries that would allow something like this. I know they have special "green" cemeteries scattered around the country, but I worried that they were too far and few between. I don't want to be buried somewhere too far away from those left behind, and I don't think I could bear to be buried anywhere but my Vancouver. Turns out though that Mountain View Cemetery, just over on Fraser Street, is a "hybrid cemetery", meaning as well as conventional burials, they also allow eco-friendly ones. I would have prefered the one closer to the house that I grew up in, Ocean View (I'm sensing a theme here), but I read an article that says more and more cemeteries are beginning to allow the practice, and I don't plan on dying for a very long time, so maybe it will be available to me when I get there.

Morbid food for thought, huh? It just strikes me as a perfectly normal thing to talk about and think about, though. I told Max already, that if I suddenly died, that was the way I wanted to be buried and that he had to make sure my wishes were carried out. I don't think he likes talking about this sort of thing though. Unsurprisingly, not many people do. Oh well.

I feel much better now, though still worried about the exam. Why am I such a dunce? Why can't I ever learn to not leave things to the last minute? Maybe one day I'll grow up for real and be over that.

A Penny at a Time - Matthew Hubert

Thursday, May 31, 2012

LA Recap and Most Glorious Minecraft

Alright, so I've done it. I had a lovely vacation with Max in LA. Did I seen the sights? Did I mingle with the people and feel the heartbeat of the city?


I don't want to go into great detail about the whole thing, but it was a really fun trip. Didn't see too many major things, except for Grauman's Chinese Theatre, and all the celebrity cement handprints, which was really cool. The total highlights of that was getting to touch the ones made by the Marx Brothers and John Wayne. Sounds lame, but it did give me shivers. While we were in Anaheim, I didn't get to go to Disneyland because it cost too much money, and Max was judging the Anaheim MTG Grand Prix, so I mostly hung out by myself and played a lot of Minecraft. I did get to meet all of this judge friends, and they were all really nice people! I've heard so much about all of them from Max that I felt like I already knew them. I just wish I hadn't been so fucking shy. See, sometimes I so outspoken that it's kind of ridiculous, but others times I just clam up and become a bundle of anxiety. It was cool to see Max working too, because you can see how much he cares about running a good event. Also, he looks handsome in his judge shirt.

I've actually kind of caved to the idea of learning how to play Magic. The only reason I've resisted for so long is because I really hate looking bad at things, and it seems like there are a lot of complicated rules to Magic. I didn't want to look like that typical girl, who's only playing because her boyfriend does. Magic is also Max's thing, and I didn't want him to feel like I was smothering him at all. But seeing the Grand Prix made it look like a lot of fun, so I'm going to give it a go. I know Max is probably overjoyed that I've finally given in after 5 years.

So all of that was fun, but really, the greatest part of the vacation was 5 consecutive days with Max. And the second greatest part was the Hilton hotel we stayed at in Anaheim. I wanted to pull some Ocean's 11 shit and steal that bed. It was just about the greatest thing I've ever slept in.

Now I'm back, and real life creeps in once again. I got fucked over with my taxes, and the bastards said I've been "disallowed" for my Working Income Tax Benefit. That was going to be almost $800 that I could have used to pay for school in September! And they gave it to me every other year, so I don't see what the problem was. They didn't even tell me why I was disallowed, only that I should refer to lines 323 and 5658 of my tax package. So there's that hardship, but it's not really the end of the world. I'll just have to work even harder this summer to save up enough money for it. I'm not too worried, it's just that that money would have made everything a little bit easier.

You may have noticed that I mentioned Minecraft up there. I will readily admit that I am seriously obsessed with playing. It's kind of bad because I'm getting absolutely nothing done, but it's great because... because Minecraft. What's that? You don't play Minecraft? Well you fucking should. I could go on and on about the most sick mountain fortress I've created, and the journey I'm about to go on to find an NPC village so I can steal all of their things, but not tonight. It's already very late, and I've got some crafting to do, and some supplies to gather. And you know, sleep and all that good stuff.

I'll just leave this here.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

A Versatile Blogger? Moi?

Goodness! I go away for, oh, a month and a half, and when I come back someone nominates me for the Versatile Blogger Award! Thank you very kindly, Sharra! Nice of you to think of me. I guess this means I should go away for even longer and see what else gets thrown my way.

The rules are:
1. Nominate 15 fellow bloggers who are relatively new to blogging
2. Let them know that you have nominated them.
3. Share 7 random facts about yourself.
4. Thank the bloggers who have nominated you.
5. Add the Versatile Blogger Award picture to your post

As per one of the requirements for this, I will now put down 7 Random Facts About Myself:

1) As a young child, I would blindfold myself and practice walking around my house in this sightless state, until I knew where absolutely everything was with my eyes closed.

2) I have mild scoliosis. My spine is curved ever so slightly, and as a result, my shoulders are noticeably crooked when I stand up straight. You wouldn't think that such a small curve would matter, but it is incredibly agonizing so much, though not as terribly in recent years.

3) I believed in faeries (age 14) for longer than I believed in God (age 9). Just... just shut up about it, okay?

4) Going to be honest here. I think I have some form of body dysmorphic disorder. I don't really want to get into details about it just now, but let's just say that catching sight of my reflection can ruin my entire day.

5) I've developed a really bizarre fear. I am constantly worried that while I'm on the bus, someone behind me is going to cut my hair off. I don't know where this came from, but it is a great source of anxiety for me.

6) In another time, I really wanted to be a librarian. Sometimes I still think about doing it. But one look at the courses in the 4 year program cured me of this desire. Boooooring.

7) My family and I like to pretend that our dog, Macey, is actually a princess that got turned into a dog. Yup.

I absolutely do not know 15 other bloggers, so I will just nominate a few:

Tanis - I hope this encourages you to update more often!
Christina - Likewise to you, lady.

In actuality, I feel terrible about neglecting this for so long. But you know how it goes. School ends for the summer, and then you start working 40 hours a week. Well, maybe that doesn't happen to everyone, but it is totally happening to me, and while I am dog-tired by the end of the day, I am raking in fat stacks of cash that are allowing me to go out and spend money on art supplies and, you know, food. Okay, okay, and the occassional skirt or dress. Those are essentials too.

I am taking one course this summer, a Modern Art class. It's a requirement to get into the second year of my Fine Arts program, so I'm not taking it because I want to, and believe me, the first two days of it were AGONY. Honestly, I can't stand critiquing art, and as you'll soon find, I have a lot to say about the subject. It just bothers me that pretty much everything that it discussed or thought of about a certain pieve is purely speculation on the part of the viewer, unless specifically set down by the artist themself. Seriously, people can make up so much bullshit about a single painting.

I just find the act of making these things up to be completely pointless, for both parties, actually. This is what I wrote in my notebook during class when I should have been taking down important facts:

"It doesn't matter what I think about a piece of art, because the artist is only going to take into account what they intended for said piece. It doesn't matter what the artist thinks about their piece, because I will always take away what I want from said piece."

I also added at the end "Therefore, creating art with meaning and intent is arbitrary and irrelevent.", which is technically true according to my own statement above, but I think that can be left up to debate. Anyhow, what was once a hated class is now a much anticipated one, because while I mostly disagree with everything the teacher says (if Giacometti and Bacon said that they weren't existentialists, can't we just take their word for it?!) it is giving me the opportunity to form a bunch of my own ideas on the subject, so that's something exciting.

Okay, I really wanted to write a whole bunch more, but it is now 12:11 am and I have to get up early, because I have my Art History class tomorrow, and I'm going to LA on Wednesday with Max for 5 days, and I haven't really packed for that yet. Ooooops. But I am going to update more frequently for sure, because I really missed doing this. Also, this blog has had almost 13,000 pageviews? I find that... surprising. I mean, in the grand scheme of the Internet, numbers like 13,000 are meaningless, but it's still interesting. Like, why? I'm not really saying anything, am I? Well, I'm thinking about talking about Art History a lot more, so maybe people will like that.

Anyhow, pip-pip cheerio and all that good stuff, children.

PS. The sickest song? The sickest song. Thank you to KC Green of Gunshow, for englightening me in the ways of Javelin.

Friday, April 13, 2012


I've recieved my first commission today! A friend of mine texted me this morning to tell me that she's removing all her old pictures and posters from her wall, and she would like me to make her some new things to put up! She's even going to pay me, which is something I was not expecting at all. To be honest, the business end of art always makes me uncomfortable. I don't know how to determine cost of an object like a drawing or a painting. I suppose it's suppose it's suppose to at least equal the cost of materals and time put into the work, but if I'm doing a drawing, my materials are going to be pencils, erasers and pens (of which I've accumulated many), and maybe thick rag paper, which costs $6 tops per sheet, and comes big enough that I could squeeze 2 drawings out of it. Of course, since she's a friend, I'm not going to charge her an arm and a leg. Maybe I'll look around the internet and try to figure out how this stuf works...

Other than figuring out marketing/business bullshit, I'm totally excited. I just need to find out what she's looking for, and how many/how big she wants them, and then I'm going to get started. She said that my deadline is from now until I die, so that's pretty nice. I'll try and finish them all by the end of the summer though.

Today I have my Art History final exam, and I must confess, I've barely studied for it. But strangely, I'm not worried. The format for the exam is 3 short essays based on comparing and contrasting the different subject matters. I am the queen of this stuff. Okay, maybe I should have studied a little bit more. Oh well.

And finally, today is my little brother's birthday. He's now 17 years old. Jesus, where does the time go? I remember him when he was a roly-poly baby. Now he's almost an adult. Oy vey.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Spend All Winter Wantin' Summer Like You Couldn't Bear The Cold

Well, I've done it. School is done until September.

I can't even describe this euphoria. It also helps that today was an absolutely warm, gorgeous April day, but goddamn, I feel good. Also, I got drunk, truly drunk, for the first time in my life today. Now, I don't want to glorify or condone drinking at all, but when you're drinking on the last day of school with all your buddies in a packed Student Union Building... it's a pretty good time. I was pretty silly and swaying by the end of it.

Ah, my friends. Honestly, I think I would have dropped out if it hadn't been for them. Sarah, Miriam, Melissa, Chanel, Garion and Kim... I really wouldn't have made it through this first year if it hadn't been for you guys. You're some of the best friends I could have ever asked for, and I hope we're all friends for a long, long time.

God, I'm just so overwhelmed with giddiness and good-feelings right now. I'm listening to some good music, I'm thinking about all the art I want to make over the summer, and there's apple pie in the fridge downstairs. I don't mean to sound like those obnoxious happy people that nobody can stand, but please, bear with me. I'm normally enveloped by this aura of self-loathing, so this is a pleasant reprieve.

Also? Got my order from today. They had a grab bag event awhile ago, where you could buy up to 12 printed t-shirts for $6 each, so I ordered 4. I got:

-a Ravenclaw shirt (not overly thrilled, to be honest. I'm going to find someone to give it to)
-a TMNT shirt
-a Regular Show shirt (did not expect this AT ALL. Super stoked)
-a Firefly shirt (I almost bought this one earlier, and so did Chanel. Lucky x10000000000)

So it's been a good day.

Thursday, March 8, 2012

A Day At A Time

Well, there you have it, folks. It's been one whole year since Yasaman (Autumn) Rahnamay died. I can actually remember sitting down and writing the blog entry for March 8th 2011. (Again, I'm sorry Yasaman, but I just can't call you Autumn. It feels wrong, like I'm talking about a different person). I remember reading somewhere that the first year is always the hardest, because you're just constantly thinking "This time last year, she was still alive." Maybe it'll be easier from now on. Less fucked up.


I would be a liar if I said that Yasaman's death hadn't changed me. And I feel guilty for that almost every day, because really, who am I to feel so fucked up about this? We were friends in grade 8 and part of grade 9, and then I never saw her again. Her parents and brother and family are allowed to feel like this. Her new friends from Port Coquitlam and SFU are allowed to feel like this. I feel like I'm just some schmuck getting choked up about it all the time. I feel like I'm being a pussy.

I did think of a reason why this might be bothering me so much, obvious reasons aside. See, I had never experienced the death of someone close to me before. My grandparents were all dead by the time I was 6 years old, and while I can remember bits and pieces of my nonna's funeral, it didn't have an impact on me at all. Yasaman is the first of people I would consider close to me to die. Other people have, by now, at least been old enough to see their grandparents die and have it affect them. But this is the first instance in my life where death hit really close to home.

Even a year past, I still think about her almost every day. She's become a sort of driving force for me. A month before she died, Yasaman commented on a picture that I'd drawn and posted on Facebook. "Proportion = excellent", and then you implied that my stuff reminded you of Alex Grey's work. I think about that comment a lot, whenever I'm feeling like a failure of an artist. Actually, I was always jealous of the doodles she would make when we were in school together. Just little things, but they were so amazing. I was surprised that she never pursued art (Guess you had more sense than that, huh?). She drew me something once, but I've since lost it. Damn.

I have changed though, somewhere in my psyche. I am now terrified of the people around me dying, especially Max and my family. And what's more fucked up? I've imagined all the funerals, for everyone. You too, Tanis. I know. That's fucked up, right? I just feel like I'm hyper aware of death now. I collect the goddamn obituaries out of newspapers now (only from The Province). I've done tons of independent research on mourning practices from other cultures and different forms of burial. Also, I'm having a hard time keeping it in my head that she;s dead. I forget a lot, or think that I just imagined the whole thing. It's stupid. I have to remind myself, and remember the funeral to make it stick. God, that funeral... It's going to haunt me for the rest of my life. Her tiny casket...

The only thing that has flourished from Yasaman's death (remember I said that I don't like all the cop-out terms people use about death? Yeah, I still don't like them) is that I have become much more in touch my atheism, and that brings me a lot of peace. I looked into that a lot too, and started reading books on the subject and thinking more about it. I know Yasaman isn't in any afterlife, and there's nothing wrong with that.

Though I will admit that I frequently want to know what certain stages of decomposition look like. I KNOW, OKAY? I KNOW. IT'S FUCKED. I CAN'T HELP IT. Yet I can't bring myself to Google such things, because as much of an atheist as I am, I'm still a human being that would rather remember her friend has the absolutely gorgeous young woman that she was, rather than what she's becoming. Also, I think Yasaman would appreciate the grisliness of this.

...Okay, I know I mentioned this before in an April 17th post from last year, but I frequently like to imagine her as a ghost. Yes, it goes against what I believe, but it makes me happy in a bittersweet way. I am going to write a comic book one day with her (or someone like her; I wouldn't want to tarnish her memory in any way) with this as the plot: Ghost of a recently deceased girl gets the chance to roam around the world and see places and things she otherwise never would have been able to experience. She could talk to all her long dead idols, and hell, let's throw a cute ghost boy in there for good measure. I could wish for just one thing to be true, I would wish for this. That she was still seeing things, more than the living could ever hope to see.

Ahhh, sad thoughts for a sad night. It's stupidly late now, and I wanted to write something more deserving of her, but I'm spent for now. I still cry, Yasaman. I still remember. I think I'm going to try and find that roadside memorial and leave you some flowers. If you could still think I know you tell me I'm being dumb. Oh well, guess I'm just a dumb girl then.

Everyone misses you.

Yasaman (Autumn) Rahnamay
November 3rd, 1990 - March 8th, 2011

PS. I watched "Life in a Day" a couple of hours ago. Remember on Youtube, they wanted everyone to film a day in their lives for July 24th, 2010. They made an amazing documentary out of it. I cried more than once, sometimes because something was so nice and beautiful, and sometimes because things were so sad. I will warn you, there are a few things in there that are not for the faint of heart. But you should watch it, because it's a beautiful time capsule of a day in our world. This song from it is amazing, and makes me feel... hopeful? Something along those lines.

Monday, March 5, 2012

It's Alive!

I'm sorry that I've practically abandoned this. I just have no time for anything.

I was just staring absently into the distance, when I should have been working on my Art History paper, and lamenting the time that I am going to be spending in school.

I miss Max. I miss sleeping. I miss being healthy and having time to eat properly. I miss having money, and being able to travel if I need to. I just have this constant anxiety quietly gnawing away inside of me. Compared to previous years, I'm much better at controlling it now, but Art History is making it worse. It's the first academic course I've taken in at least 2 years, and it's like I forgot how to think anyway but visually. I can't draw my way out of this, I have to do research papers.

The paper I'm trying to write is about The Book of Kells (one page specifically, the Chi Rho page), a really cool, ancient illustrated bible from Ireland. Stunning artwork. I encourage everyone to take a look at it. It's my current obsession. But damn it all if I am not being continuously fucked over by this paper.

We had to make a very specific thesis pertaining to the subject matter. I decided to do something about how the early Christian missionaries used the native Celtic art to aid them in swaying the people towards a new faith. My rationale behind this is that it would have been easier for the Celtic people to associate with the gospels and the word of God if it was presented to them in a style that they were familiar with. That's all good stuff, but I have no idea how to keep this from deteriorating into an opinion essay. It's easy to say these things, but I need to find evidence to back this up, and I have NO idea how to find it. To be honest, this is completely my fault. My professor told the class about this paper when the semester started in January, and here I am, a week before the paper is due, distressing because I have a thesis but nothing else. It's only a 3-5 page paper, but it's worth 20% of my mark.

So, what do? I think I have a good thesis, but no way to back it up. I'm going to ask my professor for her opinion tomorrow, but I'm just so consumed by stress right now. On top of this, I have projects and homework for all of my other classes. My intaglio print is due on Wednesday, my wood sculpture is due on Thursday, and I still have Drawing homework to complete. There are simply not enough hours in the day to get everything done, especially when you're having rather severe motivational problems. Now, I know once I get some sleep, I'll feel better about everything in the morning. But it doesn't take away from the fact that I need to seriously hustle from now on. No more fucking around, dude. You're better than this.

Yes, I constantly speak to myself. I need positive reinforcement from somewhere, and I'm the only person I'll take seriously. When other people say these things to me, I just assume that they're saying what they think is the appropriate thing to say. That's horrible, I know, but it's true. Even when Max tells me these things, I can never just enjoy a compliment or a word of encouragement, because I don't believe that anyone really means these things. I first noticed this when I used to regularly write. People would read my poems/stories and tell me that they were so amazing, but all I could think was "What do you know about good writing?" And most of them knew nothing. They couldn't tell good writing from shitty writing, so I could never take their word for anything. And still, this trend continues with art. I draw something and people congratulate me on a job well done, but they don't know anything about the differences between good and bad art. I drew a pretty lame picture for a friend of mine who makes cards for people as a hobby. She wanted to show a couple looking through a telescope together (a gift to a couple she knew for Valentine's Day, who loved telescopes). I had completely forgotten about it, and remembered on the day that she was expecting me to give it to her. So I rushed and drew a fairly lame picture before I rushed off to work. I was actually embarrassed to give it to her. But she GUSHED over it. This just proved what I had always thought. These compliments can't mean anything to me because people will pat me on the head for producing low-effort, shit-grade art. Trust issues? Self-worth issues? Oh hell yes. Do I tell many people about this? No. I think I've only mentioned it to Max in an off-handed way once or twice. I guess now you all know.

Again, I'll feel better about all this once I get some sleep, but right now I'm just daydreaming about summer, and the semester being over so I can enjoy waking up every morning again. Yeah, yeah, I can hear you there, Depression. Just shut up for a moment so I can get this paper done.