From a past life.

I just found my journal from SCAD.  Yikes.  If I knew then what I know now...

I'm sure I'll be saying that for the rest of my life.

This entry would eventually become my Decay Constant artist statement (a much more edited version).  But here it is in its entirety.  Heres hoping I do not regret this.  

June, 11, 2006

Sometimes I can't help but realize how not normal it is for me to come home at 3 am, be alone, and cry myself to sleep.  And here I am, doing it again.  Thats really not supposed to happen, is it?  Do people really do that?

I took an adderall before work tonight, and I really noticed how happy it made me.  It is pretty disturbing how I was probably the happiest I've ever been at work.  But it wasn't real.  It was all from that pill.  Fake happiness; And yet its the best I've felt in a long time.

One of my customers told me something yesterday that really made me think: "This isn't a dress rehearsal," he said.

Life.  This is it.  Right here.  And we don't get any second chances.

I went to the beach today.  I saw this fat, old grandmother laughing and playing with this young toddler.  A strange thought came over me.  It was weird to think that this old lady once looked so different, so small.  She was once just like this baby.  Its odd to stand back and witness the world's people as an endless cycle of regenerating material.  We have children so we can have a family.  Yes.  But also to replace ourselves.  Or maybe to act as that warm body when we are gone...maybe only a stand in.  Do we really matter?  I hardly think so.  There are so many of us that I can't see how we could matter...in a larger sense.

On a more local level, I think we make small world's for ourselves.  That in that world, exist a share of people who make that small world turn.  Its hard to be so far away from all the turners of my world.

I've really taken so much for granted.  Maybe its normal, but when I've been home in the past I've been so ho-hum about it.  My head hurts from all of these tears.