blutybiru

 You can only ever change yourself, with your own actions, mindset, effort. You can only be better if you want to change. People could tell you all sorts of things but if it takes a year, it takes a year.  I am all the things that my parents wished they were. They were never coddled with affection, they simply had to live their lives, probably 10x harder and put on much more effort than I did at the age of 22. My mom had to create a whole new world for herself, live in her own mind. My father probably had to go through so much in the earlier days that he just give up on any effort now. Father had signs of adhd and mother, autism- and I feel like I've inherited those traits myself.  -In the way that I have my own way of doing things, particular. The way that I am sensitive to many things. Always overstimulated, can hardly control my emotions. Is good at math like my father and creative like my mother. But in both of those things, they've neglected it, and now here I am....

What I like most about art is freedom, the ability to create without any limit or restrictions. Except at some point, your skill is the limit and you have to keep on pushing to create something more polished.  I loved sketching since all I could remember, but in my high school years I stopped. Not because I didn't have the time, but simply I didn't think it was good enough. That I'm not meant to be an artist because I wasn't able to draw something out of memory. How stupid I was.  Art is a process, it grows with patience, and effort, just like you do. The funny part is, you don't even have to be good at art. You just have to make it. Make art. Create, draw, write, sing, watch movies, look at nature, take inspiration.  Do whatever the fuck you like. Fuck a polished sketchbook, that's all catered. Or maybe they're really just pros. But appreciate the skill you have right now. The opportunity to do whatever you want, enjoy the raw process of creating, learn art...

 My brain is tired, after one hour of reading up what I should do to write a proposal for a thesis, and trying to hadam the slides that I don't seem to recall during class.   I am currently at a busy cafe, during a weekend, which is not the best place to do a lot of thinking and writing - but I just wanted to eat some chicken tenders. This one specifically, I've shared a plate with friends but couldn't have enough of it. So I decided to come back and have the whole plate for myself.  It is very good, and I am very full.  Why do we like the taste of grass? Is it any different than herbs? I think it's gonna rain soon,