The wind slides along beside us, rushing in our ears and making the tips of them numb. A smell of wet earth and dead leaves gently hovers in the air, undisturbed by the tires of our bikes throwing up clouds of dirt in our wake. The sun is just a burning ball in front of us. Its harsh rays cut paths of brightness in the dust clouds and turn the dusty olive green foliage on the hills into a lucid yellow ochre. We continue on, weaving around holes and precarious rocks at the bottom of a canyon at the last moments before sunset.
My own world is Southern California. It's where I grew up, made all my friends, and learned most of my life lessons.
Situated at the edge of my seat, I stare down dismally at the scrawled out words on the paper in front of me. I sit back, tap my pen against the table, and glance around at all the little kids surrounding me engaged in their own various lessons on letters and numbers. The place is a 'learning-center for all ages' of sorts, somewhere where I'm by far the oldest kid. Somewhere I'm stuck for an hour and a half to try to learn something about writing. Because, apparent to myself and to my parents from my grades in English the preceding year, I couldn't write worth anything. My pen quivers out a couple of words on the subject - an event that is i
The wind slides along beside us, rushing in our ears and making the tips of them numb. A smell of wet earth and dead leaves gently hovers in the air, undisturbed by the tires of our bikes throwing up clouds of dirt in our wake. The sun is just a burning ball in front of us. Its harsh rays cut paths of brightness in the dust clouds and turn the dusty olive green foliage on the hills into a lucid yellow ochre. We continue on, weaving around holes and precarious rocks at the bottom of a canyon at the last moments before sunset.
My own world is Southern California. It's where I grew up, made all my friends, and learned most of my life lessons.
Situated at the edge of my seat, I stare down dismally at the scrawled out words on the paper in front of me. I sit back, tap my pen against the table, and glance around at all the little kids surrounding me engaged in their own various lessons on letters and numbers. The place is a 'learning-center for all ages' of sorts, somewhere where I'm by far the oldest kid. Somewhere I'm stuck for an hour and a half to try to learn something about writing. Because, apparent to myself and to my parents from my grades in English the preceding year, I couldn't write worth anything. My pen quivers out a couple of words on the subject - an event that is i
Trying to pump some life into my dying gallery! It's amazing how easily I come to neglect it.
>:I
I don't actually have much to say.
...
Ah! Just the other day I glanced at a box at the front of the classroom. It said pennies for pasta. But I had a super srs shockdoubletake scandalous! moment as I thought it said peenies pasta.
ahahahahahahaha
[dead silence]
Starting up a new DA account! How exciting! Ha! I really had to do something for the piles of art I have hidden away. And for the muse up in my head and all the art I still want to do. They're both covered with layers of neglect...having an artistic community to support and be supported by would change that though, I believe. So I'll be trying to post everything I've done in the past couple months and over the next days and stuff as many new people as I can onto my watchlist. It shall be done.
Enough whammering now though. Eveyone's supposed to be enjoying the holidays! I just got the camera I really wanted and I'm...so enthralled. What can