I'm trying to do a delayed plate right now, this thing our professor calls a Time Capsule. I am looking for pictures related to the era I have chosen for it, merging them together, and hoping the end result would totally look like a lot of effort has been put into it.
For some reason, I have no interest in this, or on any other task in Fine Arts. They are troublesome, pain-staking, never-ending ("Hooray, just finished one plate. Oh my God, another one, no."), and most of all useless. I would really rather make sprite comics and role-play, as I haven't done so for weeks and they're my new hobbies. I scorn Art and the society I was born into for staining the ideals of the representation of Life.
I do not want to hurry with my artworks; what I hate most of all is being forced into something I do not agree on. I don't like creating without a cause, as I no longer am inspired with anything. My hobbies and free time for myself generally empower my soul, and now that I am too preoccupied with work that I feel will go down the drain anyway, it is like I am rotting piece by piece with each passing day. Like people in jail just staring blankly at the wall, waiting for the day of their release, not doing anything because they are unable to. I am only obliging for a passing grade, so I'd still stay in the University and be with the people I have grown to like.
"For the love of Art"? Hah.
My professor says I must follow deadlines since the whole world is made of them. I suppose we can't wait for anyone who gets left behind, like it was their fault in the first place to have been born with a handicap. Why can't anyone stay and aid them, just act as a walking stick to encourage and help them to go further.
Perhaps it is my fault I have little concept of Time. Whoever declared we always had to hurry? Flowers are right beside you, but you hurry off thinking you have something more important to do. It's like Emmie saying the members of AD'I aren't dropping by because they had more important things to do. What in the whole world is more important than being happy for doing something you like and mutually making others happy too for the sensation of creating a wicked story? And I don't follow deadlines, so I don't do my supposed responsibilities, and I'm sorry our priorities are different.
My boyfriend says my course is only training me, so I'd be more efficient. The only way to keep improving is to pour me with more hard work. Who is he to speak, when he himself did not take up Music as a course because he wanted to learn at his own pace? He didn't want to, in Filipino he sort-of said, "puke with overexposure" over his musical instrument of choice.
I didn't know I would get tired of that which I had loved during pre-University as an escape. It's like eating too much MSG. I love junk food, but it gets sickening after a crazy indulgence.
Jeff Sayson teases me too much about my current academic standing. The tone of his voice says he himself is doing so much better. Bitch.
I'm tired. I want to live like Tare Panda and roll around the grass. Loud, repetitive music is my nearest exit. Where have I gotten myself into?
(Wow, I thank God that my entry was saved when our PC froze. Good work, Good Force out there.)
Ah, it's not that I want to be filthy rich, but sometimes I think I have to be, simply just to defend myself. No position in the society, no respect. It's like having to be born with a birth certificate to prove you were conceptualized. Good work.
Fact is, I still can't do my plate right. It's not turning out oogly pretty like it should be, and I have said why. It's like I'm toiling in a factory; goodbye to the reaching of perfection, hello massive multiplication of everything. Too much is being wasted and everyone's too busy wasting themselves to notice.
EDIT: Wow, I wrote this in exactly twenty-five minutes. That's amazingly quick for me. I had been thinking about it too much, maybe, and this is the type of writing that works well with a constant flow of thoughts, called a draft.
