Driving to work,
March (?) 2015:
This was the hardest roll I've recently scanned. I can remember those feelings, those days. It makes me feel like a different, dirtier person. I miss my house, I miss Erik, I miss my job, I miss the leaves and the springtime and the driving. Can I indulge in nostalgia if I do it self-consciously? The past is not the answer to the present.
I'm pushing myself into new things instead of rehashing what I've already tried. I love the feeling of nosing into new artistic ground, moving the pieces around till it fits. I like that I can move forward even without anyone having seen what I made before. My newest vision includes more intentional writing. Whereas before I was in the future trying to make sense of the past, I'd like to move from that into making a concerted effort to understand the present, to be myself being myself being myself.