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It's bizarre when the only thing you can hear in your house is the buzzing of fluorescent lights. Or the pipes clattering in the walls. Or the trees and wildlife scrape against the basement window. I suppose it's what living in a cave is meant to feel like; maybe a little less dank and a little more civil. I started reading The Graveyard Book, and apart from being an expected masterpiece of solemn wit, it's inspired me to start writing. We'll see if something comes of it.
School's about finished and I've got loads more time for painting. Finally inspired, have some major works on the go.
And "by on the go", I mean I've got a basic idea.
And by "basic idea", I mean I've got a squiggle or two.
...we'll see how this goes.
Dreamt of fighting dragons and all things Skyrim. It was sad to wake up to exams and papers.

Have a Mucha-inspired watercolour in the works. So much inspiration from those I browse has made me want to draw so badly!
Dreamt of the end of the world, and fire.
Sometimes my imagination is too big for my head.

Dream journal? I think I'll keep a dream-sketchbook by my bed from now on.
First week of school, and there's already been a tornado, and exasperated move-in attempt, and more pokemon playing than in half my childhood. Walked to classes in a sun shower yesterday, feeling inspired.
My body clock is a babe. Seriously.
Last night my phone died, which was tragic for two reasons: 1) Because I had mistakenly brought the wrong charger to university with me, and won't be going home for DAYS and 2) It's my alarm clock in the morning. I'm lucky enough to have a stats exam tomorrow, and knew that waking up early today to study was something my entire life was depending on. Sleeping in would've probably caused some horrific chain reaction that would've torn apart the space-time-continuum and sent the world as we know into a spiraling black hole.
Which, as you can imagine, isn't really how I pictured spending a Monday afternoon.
So this morning my bod was all, "Hey Victoria. Get the frig up. You've got a date with your calculator". I looked at my iPod clock, and it said 9:25, which meant that calculator date time was, in fact, upon me. I lept out of bed with incredible vigor, threw on some jeans and shirt and made up my face with enough enthusiasm to rip faces off cheerleaders. Except then I started to notice how eerily quiet the house was...the roomates agreed to all get up around ten, and it was basically around ten as I was heading out the door.
"Victoria", said my brain "Let's break this down. It super dark and cold out, and you feel like you've been dunked in a vat of sleepy-time...what could be the problem here?"
And then it dawned on me.
My iPod clock is 3 hours fast. Not sure how, but every time I fix it, it rebels.
Which meant that the actual time was 6:45 IN THE MORNING.
Needless to say I went back to bed in my jeans and make-up and woke up 2 hours later after dreaming of the Zombie apocalypse.
Way to go, bod clock.
Way to go.
There is nothing worse than finishing off a picture and realizing you've done one little thing wrong-ish.
But that one little thing looks like one monstrous thing to you.
And the worst part is that you figure it looks equally as monstrous to everyone else.
Every time you look at the artsy whatever-it-is, all you see is this big, giant, THING in the middle of the page. It's like stamping the words "SUCK MAH YAHOO" on your forehead and prancing around the streets like a maniac screaming "LOOK AT MY FOREHEAD. LOOK AT IT".

Lips ruin everything.
Just sayin'.