Alright, I'm taking commercial art this term; it starts at a time that's screwing with my body's many schedules (sleeping, pooping...)
Every weekend, I gotta take bunches of laxatives.
I drink two gallons of water, eat all/mostly-natural food, and pleanty of raisins each day, along with one/two tabespoons of mineral oil. This sorta thing shouldn't happen to me, of all people...the phobic nutter.
but anyways, the nice teacher let me borrow some of her books...one of which was The Art Therapy Sourcebook, which recurringly tensed me up. I either got memories or paranoid-jealous rage, and stuff. And now I'm thinkin' once again about what S' said last term/year: "BE a psychologist? Don't ya mean you're gonna NEED a psychologist???"
So, more recently, I asked my mom, and she agreed with me about this sorta logic: "Well, I am
inclined to agree with you..." Gee, THAAANKS, Mom..
Doubt, doubt, DOUBT.
But it's the job I was meant to have since preschool.
Whadd I do....??????????!?!?!?!?!?
My dad insisted on having a talk with me, where he acted all understanding and adult-ish.
I told him I loved him, and listed most of the big reasons why I hate him.
I hate myself for being so gullible; I should really call back m conscience. She would've stopped me, made me tell him to frick off.
Ah well, at least I knew
he was gonna report back to Mom. And I knew it was because of his worry he offended his highness, aka...Mom.
Ya know, I was kinda expecting a sorta...euphoric sorta notion when I re-entered highschool as a senior? But then nothin' happened.
And I miss E'.
In that emotionless sorta way I tend to do.
She's definitely gonna be a better psychologist than me. Or, at least, go to a much fancier school.
Sketched up on canvas a sketch I had done a year and a half ago. I thought I scanned it, but apparently it's lost. 'Might paint/finish sketching, this weekend.. but it'll have to be at night, since I don't want those two recurringly askin' me what it's about.
It's called 'I Lo' You Too, Dad
Ah yes, it makes my ego coo in contentment when I write about non-internet-related stuff... I gotta get my DevART account
And gotta gather all the stuff needed to start that band account on
I should have a boyfriend by now. Not that I actually like people or have a sex drive or anything, but my ego hates me right now.
I'm a lousy person, without my conscience.
(But, darnit, I won't be bossed around no mooore!! This is good! ARGH!! Stuff keeps fallin' outta my head and into my mouth and actions and stuff!)
Seriously, though, just how interbred IS everybody here? I'm darn sexy! What's occuring with this???
It's senior year... T_T# (I have a big ego; it needs lots of feeding, and it gets tiring feeding it nearly all of the time. I'm pretty, darnit -,-U)