I drew another comic... although this one is *very* *different* from my last one. ;P
I've been feeling oddly nostalgic today. Maybe it's from watching X-Files and Kalifornia, maybe it's from drawing, maybe it's from staying up crazy late on a school night to update my LJ... or maybe it's just because the cold I've been coming down with is fucking with my head in more ways than they tend to traditionally. I'm not really sure.
It's just a strange, strange feeling and it's difficult to describe. I keep getting flashes of little things that happened to me a long time ago; random things that didn't matter at the time, but I now look back on with fondness or disdain.
I'd comment, once again, on how crazy this probably makes me... To be daydreaming out of the blue about being a little girl and wearing sun dresses and playing with my friends in the street where everything was sheltered, protected, and happy. (At least, as far as a street can be any of these things.) It makes me wonder if craziness comes from losing touch with yourself, or gaining an abnormal sort of connection to who you really are.
The answer is: we're probably all pretty fucking insane. And I think at this point I'm tired out of my mind without realizing it. (Though that's nothing new.)
P.S., If I mark my own journal as having "explicit adult content," as they've added the new feature to do so, does that mean I won't be able to read what I myself have written? What good does that do? I don't know anyone my age and several years younger whose lives wouldn't be rated 18+ if their daily encounters were made into a film. What does that say about censorship?
I've been feeling oddly nostalgic today. Maybe it's from watching X-Files and Kalifornia, maybe it's from drawing, maybe it's from staying up crazy late on a school night to update my LJ... or maybe it's just because the cold I've been coming down with is fucking with my head in more ways than they tend to traditionally. I'm not really sure.
It's just a strange, strange feeling and it's difficult to describe. I keep getting flashes of little things that happened to me a long time ago; random things that didn't matter at the time, but I now look back on with fondness or disdain.
I'd comment, once again, on how crazy this probably makes me... To be daydreaming out of the blue about being a little girl and wearing sun dresses and playing with my friends in the street where everything was sheltered, protected, and happy. (At least, as far as a street can be any of these things.) It makes me wonder if craziness comes from losing touch with yourself, or gaining an abnormal sort of connection to who you really are.
The answer is: we're probably all pretty fucking insane. And I think at this point I'm tired out of my mind without realizing it. (Though that's nothing new.)
P.S., If I mark my own journal as having "explicit adult content," as they've added the new feature to do so, does that mean I won't be able to read what I myself have written? What good does that do? I don't know anyone my age and several years younger whose lives wouldn't be rated 18+ if their daily encounters were made into a film. What does that say about censorship?
vibe:
weird
sound: Butterfly Collector- Garbage
4 | something strange