(no subject)
You know, its funny...
art school that is.
allow me to elaborate.
it was about 3 pm today, here I am on the studio floor, hands covered in charcoal, my new white shirt completely destroyed, the fact that this does not bother me in the least bit(as the lines of my self-portrait do not quite seem dark enough, and I just realized the levity of the situation at hand. Come saturday;
I'm not getting up at 8 am every morning
covered in ink/charcoal
washing down later in a bottle of vegetable oil to get all the toxins off me
no nude people to stare at all day
no hipsters smoking in the parking lot
no gene talking about corn and other miscellaneous things
no victoria shoulder touches
no creepy paxton
no irony(well maybe a little)
no balls cold weather
no indigo :(
no BART
no watching my roomate do her habitual hair stroking routine
no asians
no fooseball all nighters + one o'clock pirates of dark water marathons
no safeway
no good burritos!
I guess what I'm trying to say is that today I realized how important art is to me, in its own cliche way, I do love it. Maybe not as much as the people here, but its a part of me and always will be. haha this is so IRONIC. I'm starting to like it here and now I leave. The last week or two have been so good(note the lack of me updating), its so funny how nice and open everyone is when you only have a few days left. The past few days for example, I've become bfff with this kid Tucker on my floor who is basically the male equivalent of me and we are having a crazy night tomorrow, as we are one of the only people spending an extra night. Man, tomorrow is the big show and everyone's work is tight as shit. I'm excited/sad/anxious/confused/on a lot of caffine/exhausted. I hope everyone back home is awaiting my return :) I need some new yorkers for the love of god. Its almost 3 am, I'm rambling, and I have a big two days ahead of me.
art school that is.
allow me to elaborate.
it was about 3 pm today, here I am on the studio floor, hands covered in charcoal, my new white shirt completely destroyed, the fact that this does not bother me in the least bit(as the lines of my self-portrait do not quite seem dark enough, and I just realized the levity of the situation at hand. Come saturday;
I'm not getting up at 8 am every morning
covered in ink/charcoal
washing down later in a bottle of vegetable oil to get all the toxins off me
no nude people to stare at all day
no hipsters smoking in the parking lot
no gene talking about corn and other miscellaneous things
no victoria shoulder touches
no creepy paxton
no irony(well maybe a little)
no balls cold weather
no indigo :(
no BART
no watching my roomate do her habitual hair stroking routine
no asians
no fooseball all nighters + one o'clock pirates of dark water marathons
no safeway
no good burritos!
I guess what I'm trying to say is that today I realized how important art is to me, in its own cliche way, I do love it. Maybe not as much as the people here, but its a part of me and always will be. haha this is so IRONIC. I'm starting to like it here and now I leave. The last week or two have been so good(note the lack of me updating), its so funny how nice and open everyone is when you only have a few days left. The past few days for example, I've become bfff with this kid Tucker on my floor who is basically the male equivalent of me and we are having a crazy night tomorrow, as we are one of the only people spending an extra night. Man, tomorrow is the big show and everyone's work is tight as shit. I'm excited/sad/anxious/confused/on a lot of caffine/exhausted. I hope everyone back home is awaiting my return :) I need some new yorkers for the love of god. Its almost 3 am, I'm rambling, and I have a big two days ahead of me.