Special girl

So I had my next sculpture class last night, it was hilarious. We made some press molds which was pretty easy for my spastic hands. Just take the goldang clay and put it in the goldang mold. Boom. Of course I had to put all kinds of lumpy things on the outside of my bowl so the inside looks like it has clay cancer, but I think it should turn out okay.

Then we learned to make tiles. I like tiles. I think they're pretty and I was kind of looking forward to it. Flatten out the clay...fine, push it through the roller...fine, cut out the shape...fine, put a top coat on it...fine, paint it anyway you find to be attractive....

suddenly, out of nowwhere, I become an extremely "special" girl. I'm honestly like a little five year old girl (hell, not even five) who can't even hold a brush. My tile looks like it was made by a very special little girl with absolutely no talent.

I am not meant to hold brush. That's it.

I've been thinking alot about my own imagination. Through my improv stuff and being a "creative person" I think I always thought I had a healthy open imagination. But I'm finding that maybe I don't. When I know I have the world at my fingertips, I get confused and overwhelmed and end up going with the simplest, most mainstream path. So I'm trying to exercise my imagination. I'm going to try and write this 50,000 in a month and the fact that I can make ANYTHING happen is amazing and limiting. I'm going to work it, push it.

Push it good.