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I really did. I drew my watch onto my arm. Now, it's always "Almost Lunchtime." Like in Alice in Wonderland, where it's always six o'clock for the Mad'ns that ticked off Time, so it's always teatime. There's no time to wash the dishes, so they have to perpetually move around the table. D: Except I'm stuck in my math class forever and ever. And a day. Or two.
I want to draw. domokun
But I'm in a terrible rut. Everytime I open my pad and pick up my pencil my brain takes a suicidal leap out of my nose, uses some snot as a parachute for a safe landing, and hides in some dirty pants. I can seriously feel the creativity pulsing through my veins, and it's slowly working it's way into my words, but I don't want to write. I want to draw. D: I want to draw something truly amazing, and flowy, and cool, with sketchy marks, and find something as awe-some and inspirational as the wings and halo straight from an angel sent to us from white, cottony clouds. I want to discover something that I might stick with for the better part of my life, and years after my death some poor kids in art class will be forced to learn about me and what I did. ;_ ; But the nose of my pencil just keeps holding still, hovering over the blank and blinding white of the paper, as I stare off into space thinking about nothing and everything. I want to just doodle on the corners of my papers to let my teachers know that I'm really not as bad a person as I appear to be in my chains and dice. I want to be able to just crap-draw something untill my muse comes back and I can churn something out that I'll be proud of.
What has life come to when an artist loses their ability to create art? D: Bah humbug.
And I think I'm developing a skin disease. Eeeww~~~ It's all black and splotchy. I'll get on someone's case about scheduling an appointment with a dermotologist. Untill then, way long sleeves, it's even on my wrists. D: And Maybe I'll scrub at it extra hard, skin *is* only skin deep.
Y'know, it might not be creativity pulsing through my veins, it very well could be that thing that's discoloring me. > 3> Or maybe it's creativity that's turning me black?
[Edit]
Ugh, I just have to complain about my school. D: I have a problem with the authority there. But first!~
The inky blackness on my skin was just that, inky blackness from my watch. I scrubbed it all off in the shower, but that doesn't stop me from wondering how it managed to spread to my other arm, or why it was there on the Other arm a month ago, unable to be scrubbed off. >__> Hmm... But it appears I scrubbed off my creativity as well. D:!!!
Now, today while blindly stumbling through the halls to find one of my new-fangled classes, a student cussed very loud in the hallway. I never would have noticed this, it's a public school and that's where you learn alot of this stuff, if I didn't hear the voice of an angry authority figure shout "Language!" and then ask him and his friend to stand aside in the hall so he could talk at him. This clicked something in my head and caused me to turn around and find the person handing out the punishments so I could give them my speech about how bad language isn't a terrible thing. Y'know, going on about how minors hardly have any rights in this world and they're taking away our right to speak freely, about how it's a terrible thing when civilization as we know it is offended by mere words, how it's a good thing for students to get such things out of their system while it's harmless. Things like that. xD When I remembered that they made detention a whole 60 minutes longer then it used to be. I turned around again and continued looking like a lost student on the second day of school, leaving it all be.
This troubles me, that I was afraid to stand up for the little guy. I was afraid to express my own veiws on why this student should be let off scott-free for shouting out in surprise. I'm a good person, I always have been. The only real thing I've done wrong is not doing my homework, which... led to some forgetfulness and eventually suspension, but I wasn't hurting anyone in any way, shape, or form. Yet, here I am, afraid of being punished. That can't be right--anyone that knows me can tell you that I won't even whisper in class, I don't even dream of disobeying the rules, but I'm fearing harsh punishment for the smallest things. If things like this keep happening I could end up just being afraid to go to school, then where will I be?
 Leamony · Thu Sep 08, 2005 @ 04:51am · 0 Comments |
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