I haven't written in a while, mostly because I'm boring and really boring and there's nothing to write about except the boredom. And slight loneliness, even though I'm amid people. That do care somewhat for me. It's a weird feeling, being with people and being lonely. You feel guilty for it, and try to bury it. At least I do. Maybe you don't. Probably because I'm weird, but not in the nice, oh-so-ironic-heehee weird.
^Nice lot of whininess, that, isn't it. I do apologise.
I do move on the 7th of December - that is the projected flight date, subject to change, because we haven't bought tickets or anything like that yet. But I like it because it allows me to say 55 days until then. Till I go home again.
My art book got handed back last week - with a bunch of obnoxious yellow sticky notes with indecipherable handwriting in green pen on them. According to the teacher, my ideas are incomprehensible, disorganized, and scattered, and I should organise them in the book. This was after she told us to write every.single.thing. we thought of in that book. I did try to explain to her that the book was organised in the order in which I had the ideas or made the modifications.. but apparently my mind isn't allowed to work in a scattered way... for art. All I can say here, is WHAT THE?!? Do it like this, and when it's completed, be told, not like that. It's somewhat very frustrating. It seems that she and I have differing thought patterns? Meaning, we think and order things in our minds differently. Fair enough. I do want to point out, though, that she doesn't seem to realise that. And as I spend most of my free blocks in that art studio working on whatever, I do have to deal with it. And I am. but its hard.