This is my 400th post. It seems only fitting…

It’s been years. Blank canvases mock me. I pass by the box and touch it. I ignore every spark of passion that runs through my body, but this may happen again.

I used to live for this. Days in the garage. Days in the other room. Headphones on. I hold those days with a sense of scary infamy. Many have developed theories of why I quit. I’ve used every excuse in the book. I don’t want to make a mess. I make messes daily. I don’t have time. I do. I am currently bored staring at a wall of my drawings. The truth is, I quit because I felt like I was wasting precious “adult” time. What would I ever really do with this? My paintings end up on my moms walls, in closets, and most currently in dumpsters. Plus I’m notorious for not finishing anything. I’m quite positive someone will need to lock me in a room put all the materials out and force me. It will come. I will do this…tomorrow.

Painting for me has become the fad diet. I’ll start tomorrow. I’ll start in 2013.

Lifetimes of paper rainbows…W


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