thinking about the bible and creativity and hands and feet.

Listening to: Angel of Mercy by OneRepublic. 

Quote love: "Stories, like people and butterflies and songbirds' eggs and human hearts and dreams, are also fragile things, made up of nothing stronger or more lasting than twenty-six letters and a handful of punctuation marks. Or they are words on the air, composed of sounds and ideas-abstract, invisible, gone once they've been spoken-and what could be more frail than that? But some stories, small, simple ones about setting out on adventures or people doing wonders, tales of miracles and monsters, have outlasted all the people who told them, and some of them have outlasted the lands in which they were created." 

This whole art thing is exhausting. It seems like the 365 and the drawing I have to do for class are competing all the time. It's like having these two commitments that are both emotionally draining in the same way, and on their own it's fine, but together, it's just almost too much. 

My professor (who happens to know my grandma and other family) is teaching us about contour lines, which means for our sketchbook assignments he's having us draw hands and feet. I hate hands and feet. I would show you an example, but a) it's terrible, and b) I'm too lazy to get a picture of it in good lighting. 

Anyways. 


I am so proud of myself right now. For the past 88 days, the five oldest people in my family (that is, everyone but the two youngest girls) have been reading the Bible. All of it. In 90 days. Annnd, I finished today. I.am.so.happy. That was the first time I've read through it, not to mention cover to cover (metaphorically speaking; I read it online). Not that I wouldn't have done it without incentive, but this adds a little extra something to the whole deal: sometime in the next few weeks, my parents and I are going out to eat at the Belgium restaurant in Indianapolis. Most definitely the highlight of my week. 

Followers, you were just so sweet in your comments on my last post. It was fun to see the few, "I'd love to write you a letter!"s (not sure how to word that last phrase) and I think it would be totally fun in I could write all of you, but there's the slight problem of "I don't think I'm comfortable with you giving your address to strangers," and what Mom says is law. And then there's the whole lack of creativity (see paragraph one) problem.


So. What's been up with you?