I have an odd memory. I remember exact times of occurrence, but can't even remember my own phone number that I have had for almost 2 years. I remember sitting in the library during second period on a Wednesday in late January of 2001 when a teacher pulled me into the hall. I remember receiving a phone-call from my ex, while playing an emulated version of Super Mario Brothers on my shitty old laptop in my room. I remember a thousand phone-calls, a hundred smells.
Yesterday I received a text message that Mikki's uncle died. As much as it shouldn't really have affected me, it did, because I was the one that was there for her, the one she can talk to about it all. He had cancer, and in a way its better that he's moved on to a better place so he's not suffering anymore. But he did have the nicest and best family around him, so he must be eternally grateful. I never met him, but R.I.P Trevor.
Today, I was listening to Dashboard Confessional at full volume, and finishing a rush job on a poster design for a friend of mine's media project: The piece is an elaborate sketch of a clown, with scripted text sprawled across and credits. I don't read a lot of what people have to say about my work, but several months ago I ran across somebody saying that the "soul" had been taken out of my work since I had started taking on more clients and doing less personal work. No, the soul isn't gone...it's just hiding for when it is needed.
Spent a bit of time relaxing and chilling recently on my days off work, spending it visiting awesome friends who never cease to make me smile and laugh, listening to new bands and artists as recommended by certain people, such as Metro Station and Taylor Swift. Also been doing some real deep thinking about the future.
P.S. Had the Comic Relief gig the other day, was really good, did about 15 drawings of people, all greatly appreciatted, and did a spot of face painting, which to my suprise, was very successful!
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