True Story. I was reading my old journals and I felt the bizarre urge to projectile vomit and laugh hysterically. I controlled myself and did neither. But it sounded like a whiny eighth grader which I suppose is what I was. I'm contemplating deleting them. Though the past is certainly interesting.

The great thing about art is that it's really easy to see how you've grown. I remember certain drawings I was ridiculously proud of when I drew them and now, several months later, I can find all the flaws. Yay. Flaws. But it's also nice to know you've gotten better even if it's just a little bit.  

Creatively, I haven't done much. At camp I took some art classes and I got to make my own prints with an enlarger and everything. It was a really interesting experience and I'm glad I got to learn. My drawing class didn't teach me as much, but I had 3 weeks of non-stop practicing so that must have helped...right?

And it's summer! WOO!

For now,
Erin.
(i despise my s/n, but I don't want to loose what I have done.)