I’m zuzzhausted.

It’s a matter of time management. If I’m strict with myself, everything will fit into my allotted amount of time for life. Priorities are another must. I’ve got to cook more, exercise more, and work less. Or at least get more done at work in less time.

Haha… just got that. Priorities are a must. What is WRONG with me?

Blogs are ridiculously self-indulgent.

I painted three dreadful oil paintings last night. They were weird, and had no reason for existing. They were artistic cop-outs. My homework was a sham. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to dislike them more than me.

I was wrong. Peter Everett trying to say something nice about awful paintings is just a lovely experience. (Heavy, heavy sarcasm on “lovely”). It was one of those situations when you want to say, “Can’t we just agree on a redo, and leave it at that?” I just don’t think that pontificating on how they were “different” for a full 6 minutes was necessary. I realize that I got off easy, in terms of how awful art teachers can be about assignments. Peter is really incredibly nice. My point is that I knew it was bad, he knew it was bad. Can’t I just get started on fixing it? Do we have to mull it over, beat it to death, and then mull some more? I mean, riiiight?

It wasn’t made any better by the fact that I’d had to sit there and listen to the critiques on seven other people first. (Almost all equally as dreadful as mine, regardless of what *ahem* other people, may think.)

That’s my ornery review of today. It can only go up, right?

I got sucked in before, when I was taking art classes all of the time. Then after the classes ended I got discouraged by lack of studio space and how expensive supplies are. But there is something about the act of painting that forces you to slow down and examine your bellybutton a little. It’s almost addictive.

Painting. Not bellybuttons.

For my oil painting class, the teacher (Peter Everett) handed out a questionnaire for us to complete. One of the questions was “Why are you doing art?” or “Why do you like art?”

My response was: “It’s the only thing I’m not ADD about.”

It’s true. My mind wanders, and I’m constantly thinking about a jillion other things, and I’ve tried my whole life to just find something I can just focus on. With art, I’ve discovered that I can let my mind go anywhere… and generally the results are better for it. It allows me to congeal my impressions and mental tangents into something that (if I do it right) holds a concentrated snippet of me during that period of time. It’s also great if it happens to fulfill an assignment.

I approach classes with a positive attitude, but I’ve learned to be wary of teachers that can be a bit nutty. Fortunately, I’m finding that none of my teachers this semester really are.

I think this will be a good semester. I may actually become a little more educated.

I may not be very good at my life.

It’s just a thought, I’m not depressed. Nothing has changed, or going down the drain. It’s just a consideration that perhaps I could be better at this than I am. I had higher expectations for life at 25.

Perhaps I need to do… more?

So I’m getting up ever earlier. I’ve got to be at class or work every day at 8, and I’m striving to make it to the gym in the morning, so I’m on a crusade to become ok with getting up at 5:50. So far, I’m coping alright with anything after 6:30.

It’s just a matter of being ready to get in bed at 10. I just feel like I’m missing out on something when I go to bed early. I think this is leftover from childhood. Yes, I’m a brilliant psychoanalyst.

It’s only the second week of school, and so far so good. I’ll get used to the schedule any day now, and my classes are not as tragic as I expected. I’m a pessimist, through and through. I’m taking two painting classes (one from Peter Everett, one from Bob Marshall), a Marketing class (from Paul Dishman), and yet another art history class and physical science.

It’s gonna be fabulous.

Now the goal is to get my empire up and running. I can do it!