First of all, studio art classes are really fucking me over because I'm not really artistic, and therefore don't have an 'eye' for these sort of things. As I stood there, watching Marian, my 2D and drawing instructor, erase 98% of the shoe I drew and corrected the gesture, I felt like shooting myself in the stomach, falling over and drowning in my own blood. I keep on telling myself that it's okay to suck at drawing since I'm a photography major, but being incompetent at something like this really, really sucks. I could for once relate to the art kids who would always complain about not being good enough, when their stuff would look alright to me. It's a horrible feeling. 2D isn't all that easy either. Since it isn't really drawing, I thought it'd be easier than drawing. Instead, I almost slit my wrists with my X-acto knife while working on the first assignment. I just realized one thing: I'm not artistic. Couple of years back, I was delusional and thought that I was one of those artsy-fartsy kids and that kind of worked, seeing that I turned out better stuff then compared to now. But now, I don't feel artistic. I don't see those things I used to see in everyday things. I feel so dry. Empty.
Confession: I secretly blame my new straight-edge lifestyle for my loss (or lack) of artistic-ness. I wish I could just smoke a fag or a joint, sip some cheap wine, listen to my stoner playlist and do whatever it is that I need to do. Sometimes I kind of wish that I never experienced God's love so I could be ignorant to it and go on with my worldly ways, but that's a horrible thing to think.
I've become dangerously introverted over the past few months. Sure, I still act in my typical hot-headed Korean ways at times and lose my temper, but it's really for things that don't matter. Things people can just laugh about and then forget. Things that really bother me and really matter, I never speak or show any reaction toward them. And those things sometimes come back and haunt me in the middle of the night, robbing me of my sleep. But this topic will have to slide for now, for I'm not in the mood to write about this, again.
Oh, and Japanese301 is horrible, seeing that I didn't even bother to watch/listen to anything Japanese over the summer. I'm the class dumbshit right now. It also doesn't help that there are couple of new hardcore otaku smartasses who are just pissing in their pants every second, just waiting to show off their mad Nihongo skillz. I know I'm just being jealous though. I really do suck.
Art History 111B is.. alright. I do keep on falling asleep though. It's really embarrassing to be dozing off when the roll sheet comes around. Diet coke is my new friend.
I have a dentist appointment tomorrow in LA because I totally chipped my molar (a big chunk too!) when I ate bean sprouts last time lol. I don't know how, don't ask. I just thought it (my tooth) was a big rock, and was momentarily disgusted by my food.
and OH! Yesterday, the most scary/disgusting thing ever happened. I got off the bus at South/Norwalk like I always do, and went to Taco Bell to grab that new Volcano Taco (I was listening to Feist) instead of heading straight to the COW bus stop in front of the old people center. There, I was met with some dirty looking guy probably in his late 40's to mid 50's looking like the most horrible sex offender on the planet. He was big, wearing nasty oversized basketball jersey and bowling shoes that he probably stole. He looked homeless, and I believed him to be so. After getting my taco, I was waiting to cross the street, and the creep kept on talking to me! I tried to ignore him at first, but it seemed impossible. So to my disgust, I ended up telling him my name and shaking his hand, ugh. He introduced himself as Chuckie.. some last name I can't remember. He asked me if I went to an art school since I was carrying my huge portfolio.
When we crossed the street, he kept on calling me sweetheart and asked me out to a movie and a dinner. What the fuck? I was kind scared, and afraid that this guy my attack me with his gallon water bottle, rape me, and kill me if I angered him. I also thought about the X-acto knife I had in my portfolio, and how quick I could get it out to slash him across the face and run away. But seeing that my portfolio was like a thousand pounds, I quickly crossed out the possibility of me outrunning him on his bike. So I smiled and told him that I have a boyfriend (um, which I don't), and he told me that if things don't work out between me and my nonexistent boyfriend, just give Chuckie (incomprehensible Spanish last name) a call. The fuck? Okay. And he rode off on his bike, throwing a piece sign. At this point, I was so scared shitless, I was shaking. I told my brother this later, which he responded with, "Wow, who'd ask you out on a date?" Bastard. Anyways, later Tommy told me that this guy is the infamous Cerritos Library Pervert, and he's always at the library checking out girls. Gross. So now I'm too scared to take the bus, again. I need to learn how to drive, NOW.
P.S. I wish I could moderate who reads each post, not the whole blog.
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