Today I was given this fantastic note pad [really it is truly fantastic. It's this pretty little spiral notebook, and the background of the cover is black, and then it's got pretty, swirling, vine-like designs in silver, with a skull and crossbones (also in silver) overlaying it. It isn't too large. maybe 9 by 6 inches. It's adorable, in a dark kind of way] and seeing as I couldn't stand to see it go unused, I went ahead and began writing in it.
[I was at work and had nothing better to do (slow day for a grocery clerk), plus I wanted to practice my cursive.]
I seriously doubt in my capability to keep a journal, so I shan't say that I will, to save myself the shame and embarrassment later on in about four years when I find it at the bottom of a cardboard box with this as its only entry.
Of course in this case that means I shan't be introducing myself, even as I cross my "i"s and dot my "t"s. [In the notebook I accidentally crossed the "i" in "introducing", rather than dotting it. Hence the rather odd ending to that sentence] Nope. No introduction here. I only intend to write, which is what I'm good at. [That sounds a bit pretentious, in retrospect.] And frankly I ought to practice what I hope to do with my life more often.
[It's true, I hope to be able to write for a living some day. And sell my art. Both, hopefully. Of course that's just my dream, and those don't always come true.]
Really, think about it for a moment. If that's what I intend to do for a career than I had better get used to the idea of doing it all the time, even when I don't really feel like it. The same of course goes for my artistic endeavors. I would love to be able to live off of my art and writing. It is my dream to do so.
Wow. My own raw writing is a little embarrassing. This was just a scribble that I did in that notebook solely because I desired to write in it (because it was such a pretty little notebook).
Then again, Oscar Wilde said that all bad poetry springs from genuine feeling. (he did honor poetry, the good and the bad, in his short story The Decay of Lying)
The random scribbled page in my notebook wasn't bad poetry, but it certainly was terrible writing. And definitely genuine feeling.
Perhaps I benefited from my little scribble, after all.
Okay, link of the day! http://jumpinginartmuseums.blogspot.com/
This is a link to a blog called Jumping in art museums. Yes, it is EXACTLY what it sounds like. And it is FANTASTIC! And to think if I hadn't been googling images of Jackson Pollock paintings for my art history homework, I would never have found it. Thank goodness for college!!
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