First statement :Too much reading is making me feel dizzy. I am starting to have nightmares in which I am literally devoured by books. To be sincere, that´s scary and discouraging, taking into account that I have been often described as a “bookholic”. My father always tells me that he admires my ability to devour books, but now is them who are literally devouring me in my sleep. I suppose that Freud, would come with some weird explanation, probably that I have some sexual fetish with books, or that my subconscious is screaming and/or is trying to tell me something, I really hope, his? ( the subconscious, is a he or a she?, once again never mind, my lack of sleep is starting to show) answer would not be, “you are crazy, and it´s time you embraced it”.
Second statement: I miss painting, I miss drawing. I´ve been so caught up in the marvelous student life, ja!, that I haven´t had the time even to do some sketches. Once again , this is not good. I don´t remember any time in my life, without a pen, pencil, or any other painting device in my hands. When my friends in Christmas ,asked for barbies, I asked for diaries and colour pencils. With this, I´m not trying to say that I didn´t have barbies, with their golden hairs, and wasp-like waists. But instead of imagining my future life with Ken fulfilling the role of being the perfect Stepford wife , I used to colour their mane of hairs, in crazy hues.
When I think of this, the first thing that comes to my mind, is a phrase, that my sister, the journalist, tend to say jokingly, or at least, with a half-smile in her face, I just can´t stop creating!
Because of the stress mentioned above , my so-called creative skills, have been reduced, to drawing in the margins of the notes that I take while in class, as the sketch you can see above. As I say again, that´s not good. Painting for me, is as important as breathing, it helps me to cope with the struggles in my life, and help me to express that part of myself that cannot be expressed in words. And of course, to aggravate this, I can´t help to remember, that, books, used to be my friends…