Was, is, will be.

They're strong. Words, that is. I've come so far. My words from the past have come back to... remind me.

I was talking to Deanna when my phone cut out. I was talking about my past. I'm really sad I can't talk to her right now. I tried to find another phone but I can't. It's times like these that I feel how far I am from her. I wanted to apologize for how blind I was. The whole time, during all of that turmoil in my life. She was there and I didn't even stop to look.

I used to do this a lot, I feel I was better off for it. I'd write and see what happened, you know.

In 2006 my art took a shift. I've been doing highly personal work that has been lost to most audiences since then. I think it may have culminated last semester in a journal I have yet to post here. I made the switch in 2006 away from political art. I think I'm ready to move outside of myself now. I think as a final step in my college career I need to do the last thing that scares me. I need to arrive.

I've put myself out there.

That says it well: I've shoved a "me" out there for people to view. But. I haven't been out there myself. I once told Deanna that I see my art as an extension of myself. I feel like I need to stand beside it. I think what I need to do is something that is, me. My class calls for me to pose a problem to myself. To attempt to overcome a challenge. I don't quite know what it is yet. But.

My challenge involves standing next to my work. It's large. It's immersive. And it's intimately connected to me, and as a strange turn of events, to the outside world.

My art WAS a reflection of the world.
My art IS a reflection of me.
My art WILL BE my reflection on the world.

I miss her so much.