Tuesday, November 11, 2003

I want that car. I really, really want that car. It's a First Generation Mazda RX-7. And it's even black with tinted windows! The same way I want it! I can't decide if I want a carbon fiber interior or a mahagony interior...


But yeah. That's what I want until I can aford my 2004 Celica. First Generation RX-7 Converted to a Small Block Chevy V-8. UBER POWER!

*sigh* I don't know what's going on with me lately. I've been writing a lot, and I've been thinking a lot about drawings and paintings, and...all sorts of stuff. I have been thinking back upon a time in my life in which I was unhappy. I was depressed. For years, actually. Perhaps because I didn't have any friends until I was 12 years old, and my years before my 12th birthday were spent in a small house, on the top of a hill with only 3 other people on this hill....and not to mention parents that hated each other.

I honestly believe I'll never get over that part of my life. I think that's partly the reason I am kind of "dark and moody" and that I make "gothic paintings." Depression is comfortable for me. It's soothing. Which is why now that I'm happy, and not depressed...I don't understand it. I just don't get it. I've been this way for months now. Ever since Edward came into my life. I am happy. It's a new feeling. It's nice waking up this morning and being happy with who I am. I don't hate myself. I don't fear what the day will bring me. Although, for years now, I have always believed that no matter what, I am a boring person, with a boring life, who writes about boring things. That's not really the issue though.....more like: my writing is boring. I don't use enough verbs. I write about my emotions, and cars that I want, or art supplies....but not enough verbs. I don't describe the texture of the white duck cloth canvas. I don't describe how it feels to dip the brush into the paint, and stroke the canvas. But maybe, just maybe....maybe I should.

As if anybody really cares...

My art, however "gothic" it may be, is my outlet. Taking the brush, and moving it across the canvas in very smooth, calculated strokes, is comforting to me. It's how I deal. Seeing the colors appear on the canvas and form objects, and passion.....I love it. My feelings come out. Pieces of me that I kept locked up for years. Nothing I ever want anybody to see comes out on the canvas.

I was told by Edward once that I paint a lot of trees. I love trees, and when I close my eyes, I see my thoughts in words over a backdrop....such as trees, mountains, and black grand pianos with calla lily's, chain and melting candles.

Current Mood: artistic