Slow my roll

Everyone has their own sense of process. No matter what the task is ( for me it's starting a new piece, or finding the next step, or just playing with others ideas), it seems that we all tend to work with some sort of method. For most people, it goes step 1, then 2, then 3 and so on until the end. Others may start with 1 then jump to the end and fill in the gaps between. For me, I start with 12,453,005, then I remember "shit thats a whole lot of fucking numbers" and desperately search for 1. I can't help but to start this way, which hurts my production something terrible. I keep finding myself dropping out of ideas, leaving so many good starts orphaned. So the new plan, as of two weeks ago, is to start with 1. Everytime I jump ahead I try to ground myself, and focus on nothing but 1. It feel slow, but positive. I doubt I can ever really work this way, but giving it a try should give me some sort of feeling, good or bad. Who knows, it could end up feeling fucking great.


Something strange is going on. After a week and half of constant doubt and frustration I found my voice I always wanted. Usually these days fly in like a hurricane and leave me the same, only the devastation is far worse then before. So I left the studio pleased, went to sleep pleased, and lived my day pleased....fuck me if that's ever happened. Really, what the fuck?


Well, well, well...

So I have already undermined myself. My mind was so cluttered with the begging of this term and trying to pin-point what I want to work on first that I seemed to miss a post. I would like to post everyday, but just by saying that I have doomed it from ever happening. We'll see. If not, fuck it everybody gets a free shot.


I think I could be over the hill, or under it?

Damn I feel old. Twice today my perception has proven me wrong. First while driving past a local university I made a comment to my passenger on how it must be high school day as I observed all of these kids walking the campus sidewalks. No, not high school kids, but college freshman- what I thought looked sixteen is actually eighteen....that can be a big difference to a lot of those kids, err I mean young adults. Second I made acquaintances with an intelligent girl this afternoon. After many discussions of shared ambitions and design theory we exchange info. She asked for help with her work and I offered to give it a look. Later, as I followed up to make sure she wasn't just full of shit and bored I find that she wasn't completely honest with her information. No, not eighteen but fifteen. Big difference. Now lets not let our minds go to dirty places, but if I were looking at her that way I would have guessed at least eighteen or nineteen. Needless to say I was only offering design help, with no extras, but the wrong person could easily get the wrong idea and end up regretting that cocktail. When did kids start growing up? When did grown-ups start looking younger then me? If it was my daughter/son, I would definitely be locking up the big kids clothes until college, and when she/he heads to college I will be damn sure to make her/him dress her/his respected age and not be mistaken for some high school fuck. Really, twelve year olds looking all hilton and lohan, matching outfits with their moms. What the fuck?


I've been preparing for this year for a while now...the last year of school. It has always been my choice, and really I shouldn't be complaining since I'm going to be 25 and have my masters degree, but I can't help but to jump for joy at the thought of having no more schooling left. I have only taken one short break since elementary school, and one tiny semester working on art exclusively really doesn't count as a break. It's really exciting and then again depressing. I love school, and I especially love getting ready every july for the next semester to start. I'm not afraid of being out there, its just kind of the only thing I know right now. Well, I have two semesters and then we'll just have to see what happens. Fucking a.



Here here to starting something new. Forces beyond my control have pushed me here kicking and screaming even though I knew it was time. Time for something fresh.