clocking on systems

Today in art class, our teacher mentions that we should be starting to prepare our university/college portfolios. And it dawns on me that I will never have to do such a thing, because I wonapos;t be able to go into the profession of my choice. Not the first time Iapos;ve had this realization, but it still hurts each and every time.

Sometimes I meet people who I believe are less skilled than I am, but often it is because they are ignorant. Other times I meet people who believe that I am great. This makes me feel like fraud because, really there is nothing great about my works. Itapos;s boarderline generic and plain. I realize that there is so much to improve upon and learn, but I have no one to learn from and no motivation to lift my pencil. Iapos;m feeling pretty useless.

I remember when I was told by my first art teacher that I had no future in art. Now, ten years later, things look just about the same.

Every Friday night, I feel things pass in slow motion. I�take the bus back to my old school and take slow steps, walking along the street which I�grew up on. I let the wind blow my hair wild. If itapos;s raining, I walk without an umbrella, trying to relive the days where I�was happy enough to love the rain, to believe that it would�wash away my wrongdoings.�When I�finally meet my friends, it feels like years that we have been apart. They are all working towards their future, bring with them their stories and smiles. I�smile and nod to acknowledge them, but deep down I am burning because I�have no dreams of my own; working towards an empty promise. Years of my life stretch out before me. Sometimes I look forwards, sometimes I look back. Each time I look, searching for something that will help me make the apos;rightapos; choice.

I guess I am also still too young and ignorant because, each time I�look, I never seem to consider how�realistic my choices are.�This conflict has been awakened in me ever since last year. Now each day is getting more and more painful because I risk one more day walking down the wrong path.

Dreams are just imaginary realms of nonbeing. If you spend to long walking in your dreams, you will ultimately fail at reality.� I�hope this isnapos;t the case with me.
�

clocking on systems, clocking overtime pay rule time, clocking roulette wheel.

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These past few days I have spent my time lounging in bed reading a variety of web serials that I never have read before, and probably would have turned my nose up at them even a few weeks ago. In the process of doing so, I have discovered something. I am working way to hard about about conjuring grand schemes and epic details and not doing enough actual fingers-to-keyboard pay off. The serials Iapos;ve been reading lately arenapos;t high literature; hell, sometimes they barely describe the main characters, and usually that kills any enjoyment I may have gained from the story. But you know what? Iapos;ve enjoyed the hell out of myself anyway.

This is, I believe, what they call an epiphany, aka: pulling oneapos;s head out, aka: going to the dollar store and buying a clue, aka: a blinding revelation of "no, shit, really?", aka: well, you get the idea.

Every little detail doesnapos;t need to be planned out in advance, but I canapos;t just whip an epic master plan in my head and hit go either. Instead of the dumb ass shit Iapos;ve been doing, I should have been sitting down and putting what I do have in my head down on paper. Outlines, character details, what plot points I do have already, all of this stuff Iapos;ve been avoiding because it isnapos;t fun. A master plan is all well and good, but keeping it in my head until everything has "percolated," as I like to call it, is really, really dumb.

I think in the future Iapos;m going to put a sticky by my computer this sticky is going to say, "Forget epic. Just WRITE"


Uh-oh, is that mature sneaking up on me? *flicks hands* Shoo
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