Follow Your Bliss

[mood - bleh]
[music - Flood by Paul Oakenfold]

I started painting again. I know I swore I'd never paint again, but it was troubling me for a long time. I think this is the first time in 10 years that I actually feel good about what I'm painting. It's because I've learned a few things over the past couple of weeks.

I've been thinking a lot about the past, and one thing has remained... my imagination. When I was younger my father was strict. He hit me when I was bad or did somthing wrong. I refuse to say that I was abused, but some of those beatings were a bit excessive. I probably deserved them, though.

The whole thing is strange, though. I can remember good times. I remember him giving me drawing lessons, about how light hits the drinking glass he was using as an example. I remember a huge easel he had with pastels. This past Christmas, my older cousin told me that he would babysit her when she was little, and all he did was sit by the window of his apartment and draw her.

I (somewhat) understand his depression over Viet Nam, there were days that weren't so good. There were times he wasn't there for me. Every time he would start to do well for himself, he would fall harder. I was there for it every time... but what did I know? I was just a child. I had friends, and baseball, and crushes on girls, and the beach. That was my bliss.