well it a while, but i found some stuff
while those who prefer curved strokes are more flexible, imaginative and emotional.
People who are sensitive or hesitant tend to draw with short, light or sketchy lines,
gere's the link if you guys are interested
http://www.nationaldoodleday.org.uk/about/doodle_meanings.html
hmm i use to like it
but now i feel tired of being an emotional imaginative right brained person
because it seems there are so many more light fluffy people like this it doesn't feel unique
it is stereotypical to being a female
and i feel now that there is sooo much music art stories and such it is near pathetic
the left brained contributing to math and science "real" things i guess affect the world
curing diseases and such
hmm though what is a contribution to mankind something good the music that makes me feel good literature that makes me simile and feel less lonely
I once thought cool people were the people that knew all the cool bands and had the heaviest stuff on their ipod
senseless it is to go through life merely observing
to create is what we should do, although below is much of why i and many others do not
although many do sooo many cool people are in bands, i resent them for that
i am good,
but have i told you about my classmate plays guitar piano, trumpet violin, plays every video game on hard and expert ( i am such a gamer, but i am ooh so mediocre at it)
oh and ya he's Asain so i bet he can fly
i met another in drag his boobs are better than mine( his hair and everything too despite me actually straighting and spraying and styling it) he rock climbs and dances and i mean actually dances not DDR dances
and i don't really have the talent to back this persona up
i would feel proud if it said was artistic and i was a brilliant artist
i have the ambition and imagination the impulses to be artist but that means nothing as so many others do too
the images and sounds the voices stories in my mind are radiant, but it is only here they will stay perfect
if i try to bring out a scene onto paper into the physical world, my human calloused and trembling imperfect error ridden ( too many adjectives? ya see those are the issues) hands destroy it like a complete canvass with water cast upon it
and there is no more but a blotty mess
i feel ashamed and regret by the disaster in front of my eyes it prevents me from attempting to destroy another image in my mind
a waste of paper
the pure ideas destroyed by an impure reality ( the only thing I liked about that book was this theme)
poetry everyone does that every dark and dank teenagers (like I once was) filling their lines with despair and so on to make their lives more dramatic more significant
i feel so self conscious like if i tried to write a story too
it would be all dramatic and exciting in my mind but when it gets thrown down into words and the words are thrown down improperly
like amateur actors playing a Shakespearian tragedy, their voices break in the soliloquies, they can not deliver the lines with the right vibe covering their mouths with their hands to cover the giggles of their own ineptitude
another cheesy teenage epic
a watse of paper
so silly
I'm sorry for wasting your time and mine
so long I'm sorry
I have written all i feel i can at the moment ( you may cheer)
though it seems there shall always be more
the brain a perpetual thought machine
it is late i am comfy but i have homework to do
and miles to go before i sleep
and miles to go before i sleep
XP
ya just thought I'd throw that reference in
i think it fit nicely