One Who Wanders (abiona) wrote,
One Who Wanders

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Stop the winds from singing ...

ChopstickDucky: ... Pen?
Amorphic X: You win the TV.
ChopstickDucky: Damn, I was aiming for the fridge.
Amorphic X: Maybe next time on Guess Who The Hell Is IMing You!

At 8:27 a.m. on Thursday the 23rd, it was -2F degrees, which seems unusal for this part of the Earth (as I am under the impression that in the Northern Hemisphere, it should get warmer the farther south you go). Thanks to good, continuous doses of old-fashioned windchill, it often feels like -25F or lower. I want to go to class why ...?

I've realized anew that art hasn't really been functioning with me lately. Neither has journaling (one reason why I have not posted since Monday - this particular entry has been hanging about for days). Everything I do seems somehow internally disconnected, each component distant from its own companions, and nothing is entirely whole. My use of line and tone have become disengaged from each other, as if finally some internal break is showing external results. Something hasn't been the same since I came back to school on the 1st.

Right now, I often find that the only sort of motivation I have to get going is just plain ol' strength of will, which to me isn't all that much "motivation" at all. Rather, it is more or less a great amount of dogged determination. I am frequently irritated, because I feel frustrated and conflicted, torn between conflicting wishes and commitments. I wish to please my teacher, but at the same time I wish to do as I please. I wish to learn the rules so that I may walk around them, but at the same time the rules bore me. I wish to walk farther away from anime style and find a new definition of beauty, but at the same time I do not wish to rid myself of the anime style! For no matter how my definition of beauty grows, anime and manga are often still beautiful to me.

Sometimes these things show up in what I do. He wished for me to make the red bones and the blue background in that painting more connected with each other. Though I tried, in the end they remained separate and disparate. Though my hands followed his wishes, my thoughts did not. I wished it to remain as it was. I liked it so. But at the same time, I realize that I am untrained, blind, and what I like is often what I shouldn't.

I fear confidence all the more right now because it seems that whenever I begin to become confident, I continue down the path that led me to confidence ... and though I think I am beginning to see, in truth I am as blind as I ever was.

All this while, I am unknowingly stumbling backwards.

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