mad crazy tired. (when recovering is not glamourus).

Right now I should be writing about Galenic theory and the Hippocratic school. I realise that this is procrastination in a charade of productivity. I just cleaned my kitchen and my bathroom, too. My hands are still dry from dish soap. I miss writing. Even my journal is more collected pieces of paper, scraps of … Continue reading mad crazy tired. (when recovering is not glamourus).

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Down Days and Drawing El.

Januarys feel like trying to swim in custard. Treading water, exhausting with no forward motion. I don't like the uncertainty that comes along with the promise of a new year. Anxiety demands that I am in control, with every future step planned. Right now I am very much not in control. I'm desperately job hunting, … Continue reading Down Days and Drawing El.

New Year, Vaguely Same Me. (Also, some goals)

By the time this post goes up we will already be ten days into the New Year. Fortunately, there's no one grading me on my submission of goals or I would have failed this year by default. At the end of 2013, I decided I didn't like the idea of resolutions. I then came up … Continue reading New Year, Vaguely Same Me. (Also, some goals)

Paint and Completed Essays.

It's 1:34 pm on a Wednesday afternoon. I am still wearing the clothes I slept in under the oversized shirt I wear when I paint. Six weeks ago I would have been preparing for my psychology class, annotating notes on Erickson and Maslow and psycho-social development. Probably anxiously picking at my nails, simultaneously overwhelmed and … Continue reading Paint and Completed Essays.

days before 21.

The weeks before my eighteenth birthday were spent in my bedroom at my aunts, my last school holidays, studying for exams that I knew would never make me worth anything. I said goodbye to my childhood alone, sitting by the lake in my hometown, chopped off hair pulled back from my tired eyes, trying to … Continue reading days before 21.

I have had the wind kicked out of me.

When I was a kid, my siblings and I used to get sent down the local park by my mother whenever she got sick of us all. This happened often. We made good use of this time by finding other local kids to fight. Though I spent the majority of my childhood devising ways to avoid … Continue reading I have had the wind kicked out of me.

A kind of writers block that isn’t quite writers block. 

I've had a pretty good few months writing wise. I'd go as far as to say I've been on a creative high. Like, I didn't mean to blog multiple times a week, I didn't plan on my posts consistently surpassing one thousand words. I was proof reading my writing back and actually enjoying the process. … Continue reading A kind of writers block that isn’t quite writers block.