And what a perfect time for it!

The gods are clearly telling me I should follow my heart and become an artist after all. Today I got a friend request from one of my best friends from middle school, whom I lost touch with in high school. This really threw me, in a pleasant way. I never thought she'd care to track me down. And, ta-daa, she's an artist. Somehow not what I would've expected, but what do/did I know. She was always good at drawing.

Coincidentally, this follows my only remaining (10 years ago anyway) high school friend contacting me last week (who now seems to refuse to actually write me back, so, Marie, ?!?!). Who was also friends with Sue, see.

Anyhoo, all THIS follows on my suddenly being surrounded by all kinds of people who make a living as artists of one ilk or another. I never pursued it because — ostensibly anyway — it was assumed there was no living in it for most people, but also because I thought I had no business in the community of real artists who knew how to stretch canvas and mix paint and talk about "media" and "perception" and "Bauhaus" and "crap."

HM.

MOTHER GODDAMNED FUCKERS DID IT AGAIN

Battlestar Galactica: Season 4

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Why I Like Pudding

So my new and wonderful beau has this awesome blog he just started like 20 minutes ago, which will reveal to you his sheer and utter genius. Meanwhile, same time, I've had zero inspiration whatsoever, since my brain is all taken with the sighing and the dreamingness and the glowing and the whatnot. In fact, I seem to have way less to say to people in general these days. The Great Undercurrent of My Discontent has been knocked out by his awesomeness, I guess, and, huh, apparently that was the source of whatever general entertainingness I flimsily held in my possession.

Or maybe I'd just rather be talking to him than to you.