September 22. 1999
Yesterday was the first day that it actually felt like fall. Finally, I can put the summer behind me. I can wear a coat, we can turn off the fan in our room, and I can go to sleep with the covers on me. Fall means all sorts of wonderful things to me. The start of school (which is usually a good thing, although it sours quickly), leaves falling and everything slowly curling up and wilting. Watching football on TV (and watching the Eagles head toward another 3-13 season *sigh*). My earliest and fondest memories of my father were of him screaming at the TV in disgust as the eagles made yet another bad play. It signaled to me that fall has arrived, and fall means winter will be soon, along with Thanksgiving, my birthday and Christmas, in that order. And this year it also means a whole month off from school. I love college. :)
School is meandering along. Some things I am thrilled with (drawing class still rocks) and some I am not (3d is feeling more like Mr. Embich's 7th grade shop class every day). But that's life. I just go through every day, and try to do the best I can, and that's the most one can ask of themselves.
I've not written in my journal for nearly two weeks. This might seem like something inconsequential to most, but it's quite a rarity for me. I haven't had a lapse this long since mid 1996 or so. Yes, I know I'm anal about this. I'm obsessed with keeping records. I have filled 5 blank books with my writing since 1994, not counting the books of my stupid poetry that I have dating back to 1990, when I was nine. Then my poetry consisted of limericks or four line couplets, which are now quite amusing to me. Then I have 4 or 5 scrapbooks (always in progress) filled with news clippings, programs, ads, photographs, and the like. I am obsessed with preserving the moment, but I always end up frustrated, because I can never completely capture a moment in every detail. Sometimes, when I'm particularly happy or content, I'll just close my eyes and try to remember every sound, smell and feeling. But it never works. Suspending time is a losing battle.
Maybe my creativity is sapped. I've been giving so much of myself into my assignments and art lately, when I get home, there just isn't too much left for me to work with. Wow. Four weeks into my college career, and I already feel burned out creatively. I hope there's a rebound at some point.
Meanwhile, to make things more complicated, I've been questioning whether I have anything to say. I always thought I did, but now that I'm here at college, among people whose stories are as clear and as interesting as mine, I find myself more and more drowned out at times by the sheer force of other people's creativity. It's quite a new experience, and I expected it to happen, but it doesn't make anything easier. I've been trying to make my emotions into art for 2d design. Some days I wake up and can't really feel anything, and wonder what the hell I'm going to do then.
music:Cheryl's Bob Marley...interesting
food: warm generic cola drunk from my mug that sez "coffee" on it
read: nothing at the moment
sight: my blank journal *sigh*
random: mix of many sounds
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