Arwen

Today I was showering as part of my preparations to leave my house and visit my psychiatrist. As I was showering the locks that have taken me 7 years to grow, I realised that they are as long as Arwen's. (In case you don't know of her, Arwen is the Elf-Chick of Awesomeness who sports long dark hair.) I realised that I have a mane. I realised that I am rocking the Arwen Hair!

Tomorrow my brother graduates. I am so proud of him, so happy for him. I've been prancing around today, enjoying my time off from school, wondering such heart-palpitating things as "I wonder what it would be like to physically be a colour?" and then wondering which colour I would prefer to be; things like, "What should I wear that would be both hippie-esque and at the same time protective of the integrity of my nipples?"; things like, "Clouds."; things like, "Chocolate... I have chocolate. Delicious, dark chocolate rendered in an irresistable way. Breakfast, I have found thee!"

I really like blue.

I think it's getting time for me to paint again. Artists know all too well that creativity is really just a unique form of self-confrontation. (That sounds like a quote, though if it is, I can't remember the speaker or the exact wording.) I don't know if I am ready to confront myself. The last creative spell I had (which was seven years ago, now), I literally painted with my own blood. My creative streaks are correlated with cutting episodes. Should I cut so that I may paint? Nay, for I refuse to cut.

I feel so hungry for expression. And so beguiled by the phrase "witch's weather." Storms are beguiling things. I realised today that I feel excited when it is stormy; alive, full of purpose and awe. So alive. American Beauty kind of alive. I exist as a chocolate bar kind of alive. Storms are my favourite weather; storms, and the heavy, moody, forboding weather that precedes them.