finding time to breathe

proto-coffee muse

More than enough to do these days, so expecting silence will be normal. 

Trying to reverse-engineer crumpled paper arranged on a wall is proving difficult. I've a mind to stiffen it all with a toothbrush sized paintbrush (said, without any commitment in the least).

I've lost my formal work days to other strange assignments—making cords for the double majors graduating, drawing lines in a field for boys to discover. I have just mapped out the next four weeks of school, bringing another panic attack to the fore. How to have time to finalize four more pieces for the exhibition in May, pray tell?

Is there really such a thing as "taking more on than I can handle"? We will soon find out.


A semi-feud with a professor and yet to go back to studio since Monday. Days move quick, like their deft fingers and even a nap can't save me from the anxiety.

I've been stuck on. On and on and on

Stopped caring to pick up pieces. Stopped caring when I open my mouth, so wide

You can't take this high I'm on. I haven't been this inspired in a very long time.