the habit of being

x. Days of late consist of breaking down in front of teachers and sitting on round tables to be drawn, among other things. I am calming and I despise last month without bothering to reason. With March comes grander things, I’ve decided. With my next paycheck I’ll buy myself lipstick and a new scarf. All will be well again. Scarves are fabric morphine. In a lovely fragile transparent scarf I shall be immaculate-esoteric. Just wait and see.

1. I was there today, in Mr. M’s 5th period drawing class, because we had nothing to do in Spanish. They were doing quick gesture figure drawings. Somehow I wound up on top of a table in the middle of the room for the next half hour.

As I sat in front of the drawing class I pondered (ha! these words, they kill me. no, it’s not real) what it means to -be- art, and oddly came the conclusion that it means barely a thing, because it is a common common state. My back hurt and my hands shook a little (I am glassy/trascendant/wispy I imagine; I am wimpy I know). I felt quite high though. Of use. Were some sorcerer to magically produce symmetry and self-discipline in me, I’d look into modeling as a money-making scheme. Even in my current aesthetically flawed state perhaps I could get a job at the college sitting for art classes. Actually, that is quite unlikely as they’d probably want me to take my clothes off and I am underaged. Such things aren’t commonly considered appropriate, you know. I’ll put it into my dreams and ideas filefolder, under the “things to do in college” subcategory. I’m fairly certain this plan provides many opportunities for self-improvement.

It’s quite a meditative thing, yes, and something to master.. forgetting time and peering eyes. I must prevail. I am, after all, in the center of the sphere.

In other drawing-related news, Matt and I are also supposed to be doing figure drawings of one another in our little class, starting tomorrow. He doesn’t seem to like my drag queen idea. I’m pretending this has no dampening effect on my enthusiasm over the assignment. Bodies are nice things for drawing, indeed.

2. I cried, leaning against a wall, outside the door of the room I should have been in, while my teacher told me in so many words that I am wonderful and should not be upset. This all happened after a scale exercise flew away from me and I made a joke of myself in front of 50 people or so. When one is feeling empty, public humiliation makes for a good excuse to break. And as per usual I came out of it feeling purged and better. Losing it is one thing, but gaining it back is a blessing.

Long before the blessing arrived, I left my spot on the wrong side of the band room door, walked out of the building, and leaned instead against the red bricks outside. I’d take one spot, sob a bit, walk around in a circle or two hugging my waist, and take another. A few stray cats outside the school gave me odd looks, but what else could be expected?

Late that night I decided for certain I am in desperate need of a lover, a friend, a someone. The need has been for so long projected onto my future life: Affection is something to be had alongside the peacocks in the garden of my fairytale castle or my usual table in my usual cafe in Vienna where I write my usual poetry in a sincere notebook. I will drag them to me after my escape from this tower; I will woo them all because I am femme and I am free. Love is the background for my myth.

The myth has not started; we’re still working on a good name for the heroine. In the meantime I, Katharine, am so very very lonely. There are some things my gigantic complex connection-creating machine cannot give me in online ventures. I want to be held. I need to be kissed. I more than deserve to have someone tell me they love me. And it disturbs me that this all felt like such an epiphany. It never occurred to me that now was an option.

xx. I took notes in class:
1. C. has udders. (So does S.)
2. M. has ashy knees.
3. A. has “a rain forest down there.”
4. L. eats paper.
C. supplied some illustrations and the results were thrown in the trash as the bell rang.

3.The shirt was silk, and I am glad I wore it. Most were more impressed with the sequins on the shoes, however. One even kneeled to admire them and I was lost to that moment completely. I am the kind of girl who can take one of your cookies without upsetting you, but I am not the kind you will ask to dinner.

tangent: I wonder if anything would have happened between L. and I had I knew then that perhaps a chance existed. The past takes up so very much space.

I held the camera and looked around through the viewfinder with no intention of taking a photograph. The dust on the lens makes the world seem fragmented and less intimidating. I could see addiction forming. Black Veils and SLR’s: a case study.

Fear of rejection speaks to me even through my dreams and I do not find it fun to be so typical. I want my own beautiful life-moments. It has been too long since I last felt alive. Italian ices from the freezer are not enough, not even the lemon kind. For that matter, the mint Girl Scout cookies aren’t as posh as I thought.

Sometimes my shoulders fall off my frame, causing me to look like a half-way house. And the way I sit in my desk at school causes me to seem akin to a pretzel, some state. I’ve always been rather bendable.