Still on spring break, I've been trying to teach myself things before I'm again bogged down by academia.
I have been studying classical guitar, something I am very new to. I feel silly, playing nursery rhyme songs and extreme simplifications of J.S.Bach; it is such a containment to not be able to express myself through music. Expression is all music has to show for itself; alas, rote study does not suit it.
Nonetheless, it is nice to feel accomplished.
I have been drawing again, after months and months in artist's limbo. I have been studying surrealism, dadaism, and various other schools of existentialistic expression. The properties of line are manifold. Negative space is simulacra, it is what we identify most with; lines' chaos is our true persona.
I have been studying abstraction; and practising mindfulness. I have been writing, and for the first time in my life, expressing something with it. Everything2 has taught me so much about cathartic communication. Write and write and write and write. And then, something derails my mind's train of thought. It's so hard to sort out the mangled bits of a train-wreck. I want to move on. Alas, I can't write anymore until another chugs into the station. And then again, I can write.