zef

So it looks like summer school is out. The intro to painting is closed,but more importantly the selection of art classes is miniscule. Painting is the only discipline available. I was hoping for drawing II and something else, but I guess that's what I get for going to small school.

What I've gotten out this semester is that I am better than I ever gave myself credit for and that procrastination is a chronic problem that doesn't just go away because I am doing something that I love.

My procrastination is part doubt, part something else that I cannot define. The doubt seems miniscule now. But maybe it's not. Maybe it's massive and dominating my entire existence.

What if? -- That's a bitch of a dis-ease that I seem self-inflicted by.

Cold. she said I seemed made of stone with my hello
blunt and impeding. how do you follow up, go further into the moment, with such an obstacle dropped at you feet? It says why do you want to know me I am not going to let you hurt me. fuck you before you fuck me. Is that anyway to meet girls?

hmmm.