today, i just cannot be fucked.
i wanna go back home.
fuck uni, fuck work, fuck the world.

if home is where the art is, thats where i want to be.
do i even need to be here at all? so called group project doing pleanty fine without me. mild panic when computer wouldnt recognise my username. utterpanic when i realise id left my wallet in the computer room after leaving in a huff.
mellowed out a bit when i refound my wallet and nothing was missing, a different computer actually worked, i found medy on facebook, and i finished the most awesome purple muffin youve ever seen.

i still wanna go back home though. and curl up in my new huge bed, with my silky quilt and quiet music and just sleeeeeeeeeeeep. and then paint something. i want a day where i dont have to get up.

im still wondering if ill ever be a real artist. on a wall at uni someone posted an ultimatum; artist or housewife, and a number to msg responses. she posted the answerws today for assessment, they ranged from; "keeping house is an art form", "be both! use appliances in your art!", and "once you have the courage to identify as an artist, youcan never stop. you can stop producing works but you can never will away the power to see." to "if you cant hack it go home. stop whining and conform."
its interesting, answers without having to ask the question myself.
interesting what people think art is, its place in life.

the elitist academic fuck can go home hisself. closed-mindedness gets you nowhere as an artist, he should know better.

anyway.
theres a fire alarm or something. i should go.