Obambulate

I think success is often misinterpreted. Also I am afraid that my lack of suffering is withering my passion for art.

I don't know what is important in my life, which makes my life seem unimportant. You know what drives me to intoxication... sheer boredom.

My sophomore year of high school was the worst, and my favorite. I had absolutely no friends. I mean I knew a few people in my classes, but other than that I was alone. I dreaded lunch the most, because I had to sit with my old Paxton friends. They were a pretty awful bunch. They were mean and stupid, but the only people I knew. If I had the confidence I have now I would have sat alone. Anyway, I was also bullied. This kid was a rhinoceros. He was about six feet tall, and I'd say he weighed almost 300 pounds (he was expelled the following year.) Actually I don't really feel like telling this story now. Maybe another time.

The point is that I was alone and miserable, but I became my own best friend and had fun running through the woods with my dog and painting and listening to all sorts of music. I miss being that kid.

Junior year was totally different. Somehow, I made friends with the senior art kids. That lifestyle was weird. It was fun. I met some interesting people and tried some interesting stuff. Actually, last year is kind of a blur. I produced hardly any meaningful art, or thoughts.

Now I don't know what I want to do. There is no struggle to overcome, or current to ride. I'm just walking through an empty field. The scenery is nice, I'm not hungry, or tired or angry. Or anything really at all.

song of the blog is These Days by Nico.