Art

I used to think I had potential in art. I look back at some of my drawings from when I was 12 and I think to myself, that's not half bad. I look at my art now - anything recent I've done and I cringe.

I've decided that I suck at art. I don't mean it humbly like those people who go "I suck at art" because the tone of the tree bark they painted was slightly off. I mean I suck at art in the fullest and deepest aesthetic sense, where I look at my creations and go, ew. There's no balance, the colors are all off and the technique, well, given my background, is nonexistent.

Eh. In the end though, I think I'll still pursue it - not because I think I'm any good at it. I just like it. I like how it makes me feel when I'm doing it. I find it relaxing. Perhaps if I work at it long enough, it'll amount to something. I kind of secretly hope that, but honestly, I doubt it will.

Music I like

I think the best way to describe it is folksie indie.

I realize I (at least lately) like songs that are clean sounding. The melody, guitar, lyrics, bass, drums are distinguishable. Things like Postal Service and Mumford and Sons. There's this nostalgic melancholy to it that speaks of purer times. It's Romantic (and not in the sense of romantic that people think, but from the Romantic Era, when industrialization started to happen and the poets and writers started to look back to nature and to a time when things were less tainted and more beautiful).

I suppose that arguably things that are "tainted" can be beautiful. I think though, that if things pure and things beautiful are something of the past, we are definitely missing something in the present. And I mean pure and beautiful as separate things. There are things that can be beautiful and unpure, things that are pure and unbeautiful and so forth. I don't know perhaps I'm talking about them together. Lately all my thoughts have been a jumble. I wonder what that means. ADD? Schizophrenia? Insanity? Oh, psychology. Such an interesting study. Perhaps I've just been studying too much. My brain's completely fried.

At any rate, I suppose going back to music and Romanticism, it's true. I like songs that evoke the past. Of feelings, thoughts, experiences that are no longer new. The full enjoyment of life without a worry about the future or the consequences of one's actions.

I just want to be irresponsible again. It's a terrible thing, really.

That's what the music I listen to reminds me of, I think. It helps me think too but I think I'm going crazy. Though, in thinking so, I'm relieved at the proof that I'm not crazy.

아휴~~ 모르겠다. It's such a steep slope to get to where I want to be.

Art supplies

Y'know what I like about art supplies?

Art supplies, with its many colors and blank sheets of white or whatever other color, are pregnant with possibility. I suppose it's somewhat cliche, but cliche for a reason. Perhaps we subscribe to cliches because they define life in a way that resonates with all of us. Though with overuse it becomes hackneyed. Quite unfortunately so. I've been re-experiencing some of the simpler joys in life. Something I keep getting the feeling my generation has forgotten to do. It's weird.

At any rate, back to art supplies. I specifically mean implements used for drawing, coloring or painting, such as paints, pens, permanent markers, etc. Things that speak color. Or in my case, a bag full of those scissors that cut in different shapes. I suppose I can't call myself an artist though I like to think I am.

I like crafts. Perhaps I'm a craftsman?

Anyway, possibilities. It's a beautiful thing, though like writing can be intimidating by the sheer openness of it. I like that though.

In the mood

I have the be "in the mood" to do anything.

I have such difficulty understanding people how have the motivation to do the undesirable. It takes so much for me to get motivated to do something I don't want to do. And even then, sustained activity is rarely achieved.

Every time I'm analyzing or reading into something, I enjoy it. Yet, it takes so much for me to get to that point. It's like running almost. It seems like a chore when I think about it, but when I'm doing it, I usually enjoy it. It's always the getting there that's so difficult. I don't understand why that is.

I feel like I'm being so childish in thinking that way, but at this age, it makes me wonder if I really can change. Am I just giving up because age dictates that I can't change as easily?

I irritate myself at times.

Oh well, today's been a more productive day than most. I must try to sustain such productivity!

Ennui

Everyone is busy.

I should feel busy.

I keep busy but I don't feel busy nor do I feel my time to be filled up. It's an odd dichotomy because I feel like the days go by so quickly without me realizing the time. Yet when I think of the actual hours that I've filled doing who-knows-what, I realize how bored I am.

I suppose this is what being unproductive feels like but this stagnation feels like it isn't my own.

Again, there's that feeling of detachment that I feel is so prevalent in this generation. It isn't my stagnation but stopping from society. Everyone is moving but they aren't going anywhere. Is it the culture?

I need to stop being so influenced by my surroundings.

Writing essays

I wish essays would just flow out of my fingers onto the screen.

I can see the essay, the general structure and organization, but it's just so freaking hard for me to word the dang thing. There's flow to take into consideration, the general strategy in presenting my argument, then there's whether or not I'm actually making logical sense. Gaaah.

I feel like I put too much pressure on myself when I'm writing these essays. It sucks because I know my professors have higher expectations of me. They know that I already have a degree and that I'm supposed to know far more than I actually do. I see things in the literature that classmates are only beginning to see - I'm not tooting my own horn as much as simply stating a reality. I see these things because I've already been to college - that experience alone speaks for my ability to analyze at least a tiny bit better.

Gah. I've been stuck on and off this whole week. X.x

Public vs. private

It's interesting to see my writing - both in the "public" arena (i.e. my blogs) and the private arena (I have various journals and what not that I may or may not show to people... I'm still somewhat divided on that).

I think I'm a bit of a drama queen. Getting to be moreso with age. Not sure what it is (perhaps a heightened sensitivity towards people after realizing how different everyone operates?) but I've definitely changed. The carefree, happy-go-lucky, free-spiritedness is harder to bring out. It makes me wonder if it really was there or if it was contrived. Was that really me or was that me aspiring to be a "better" me so to speak?

I wish I could disregard such things but the unfortunate reality is that I'm self-conscious as heck. Eh. I'm slowly getting over it.

At any rate, going back to my "private" writing (it really isn't anything special - just me jotting down thoughts when I don't have an internet connection and sometimes, when I don't feel it all that important or interesting to share with others - or me just ranting about things I know are stupid that the public really doesn't need to see), it's considerably more... flowery. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I suppose because I know it's private, it's just a little more over the top. I wonder if that's what my true nature is and I just downplay it.

Perhaps it is. I'd rather it not. Get over yourself and move on with life. Many of the small things that one agonizes over is never worth it in the bigger scheme of things. Life is meant to be cherished in gratitude and joy. So easily said, yet embodied by few with great difficulty.

I suppose on the flip side, people need to know suffering to feel a greater depth and appreciation for the good things in life. But if you told that to someone who was suffering, he/she'd probably smack you. One always knows in retrospect, I suppose.