I feel fluffy right now! I feel like skipping through a dandelion field!
I feel…ARTSY.
What’s sad is that while I am practically exploding with this aura of artsiness, I am sitting on my little mattress eating granulated sugar out of pure boredom and texting my friend in a heated conversation concerning orange juice, gauges and stick figures.
But am I daunted? No! Instead I am encouraged that I am slowly but surely acquiring the composed dignity of a true blogger.
But really.
I am categorized as many things for my more emotional tendencies and hobbies—I’m a musician, I prefer to be alone, I look odd, I draw, I have an entire wall covered in clippings and paper on which I basically vomit my thoughts, I write stories, I have a poetry notebook, and I love all sorts of music with the burning passion of a thousand suns. I also have a strange attraction to certain types of eyebrows. And that is where I will end my list.
I love doing these things and sometimes I feel these little internal explosions of creativity, at which point my train of thought begins to resemble that of a dog—SABRINAWANNAMAKESOMETHINSABRINAWANNAMAKESOMETHINSABRINAWANNAMAKESOMETHIN—and I think of all these great things I could do or write or draw…I just get all wired and I just wanna DO something. While my brain is flipping out, amazing transformation takes place. It is obvious I am thinking artistic thoughts.
And that’s it. Then my sister comes into my room and catches an eyeful of The Artsy Face burning tiny little artistic holes into her brain with my Magic Laser Eyes.
And then at this point I lose my train of thought and realize that I should probably be doing something a little more beneficial, such as scraping paint off the wall with my teeth.
--Sabrina
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