"Painting and fucking a lot don't go together, it softens the brain. Which is a bloody nuisance."

I just got lost for a second here on the Internet. That was weird.

This is a very lonely place, both digitally and where I am physically, and where I am at my most pathetic, I hate it when I am this way. I have sketches that I really want to post up, but I don't have a scanner and my computer at home sucks, I hardly use it.

Speaking of which, winter break is coming up, which means I won't be posting on here every damn day, not until I come back to school. But at least then I'll go and hang out with my friends. I miss them and I want to see them. I'll take my girlfriend out on dates like we used to, she is busy, but I want to give her a fun time and let us be together without worrying about work and deadlines like how the last few weeks have been. I want to paint, I want to make music, I want to listen to music, I want to go to art galleries, I want to make new friends.

I want to go to Amoeba.

My bucket list.

All I have to do is get through this next couple of weeks, I'll be gone from here but that will be good for me, waiting for contact on here is too depressing. Maybe for once something new will be waiting for me as opposed to the opposite.

When I think about these kinds of times a couple of years back, I'm surprised I didn't plug myself.

Here's the problem, I'm disconnected. I'm pushed into academia when honestly, I just want to make art. So I'm here with a bunch of people I have nothing in common with and I am debilitatingly shy. What that equates to is chronic loneliness [I hate that word]. So two years of that left me overly sensitive and neurotic. I can carry myself in certain social settings, but there is something in me missing where I can't interact normally. In high school, I've compensated that with sexuality, I was fit, energetic, and I felt good about myself. Now I am not like that. I've gone from 6'0 and 150 pounds at the end of high school to now 6'1 and ~175. So I'm pretty self-conscious about my body. I have to wear skinny jeans, unless I just hate the way I appear.

I am reading the Letters of Van Gogh, he went through the same kinds of problems I am, I wonder if that is universal to all artists. If not, that is both extremely encouraging and discouraging at the same time.

Go ahead, roll your eyes at me
Its happened more times than a car off a cliff
And the scoff I heard is an impact that break necks
But not mine.