I'm never speaking up again.

I suppose I don't write much here anymore. Fact is I am quite creatively drained, it's a strange thing to be forced to be inspired. I've been making sculptures and clay objects and it doesn't feel too right, like I'm in elementary school again. But I know my drawing skills have improved. And I know next semester will be much better for me. I'll finally get to do what I really want to. Photography and design, hurray! Things that are useful. This semester hasn't been an utter waste though. I've learned more about myself than anything.

Even as ineffective as some of the courses I've taken have been, I get a sense of fulfillment that I've always been missing. I've never felt fully accepted by one thing as much as art does, the way it's held me in its arms. I do indeed hate my sculpture class. I hate the people in it. I hate how everything I hand in is something I can't wait to dispose of. But I'm even better than I was before at problem solving and inspiring myself.

I'm starting to work on not going to my default and being such a cranky bitch all the time. A lot of the people at my school are rude and inconsiderate and I don't want to be seen by others in this way so I need to act less like an asocial retard if I want to bother having a good time at school on a regular basis. It is hard though, when you take classes with people who don't have any listening skills whatsoever. Or need to bring their dad in for the day. I take my education seriously. I want to get somewhere with it. I have an intent to get rich and take my creative skills in an intelligent direction. This is difficult when you're surrounded by people who just want to fuck around and make pretty things while daddy pays for their degree. So you can understand why I choose to ignore other students on the whole.

But the people don't matter to me. I'm happy to be getting a degree. I like learning and having skills. I want to feel like I'm using as much of my potential as I can. I think being human is a waste in general and all there is to do is self-improve. I believe that an education in art is as equal in value to an education in science.

A few months ago I went to see an artist take about his practice. He made sound installations and mechanical sculptures. The first one that stuck out was a sweeping machine. It was essentially a long handle that rotated around a circle, like a clock. On the handle was a bucket filled with dust and a broom. The bucket would move down the handle as it rotated and spill the dust out in a spiral. Then the machine would reverse and the broom would sweep it back unto the bucket. These are the only things it would do.

And I thought it was beautiful. This makes me feel like a tool but nevertheless, it was an insightful experience. Here was this man who studied mechanics and could manufacture any sort of robot and this is what he chose to make. An intensely useless piece of machinery. And it was beautiful because he built this knowing it was useless and knowing he could have made anything else. Because what makes any one thing more useful than another? Someone, somewhere was meanwhile performing open heart surgery to save someone's life and here was this pointless machine. But why should the surgeon's purpose be greater? Eventually he will die, and his children will die, and his patient will die and that patient's children will die and everything all of them has ever done will cease to be of any value. You could invent something that might save a million lives but all that million will also eventually die. So since anything you choose to do is ultimately a pointless endeavour, you might as well do exactly what you want. Now I guess I should note that I don't believe there's an afterlife and this is the only life there is. Should you believe there will be supernatural consequences to your human actions then by all means, do what you can to save the planet and what have you.

But anyways, this is what I've been doing in art school. Having profound philosophical experiences concerning the futility of life at the sight of a sweeping machine.

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