...albeit rather unwell, at the moment. But don't worry. It's not Swine Flu as of yet. That's later in the year.

For the ease of mind, more art will be uploaded eventually, once they find their way to my scanner. I bet that's helpful. Seriously, though, I've been drawing and writing obsessively, and as a result my backpack and room are becoming firehazards.

A few projects are coming up that must be completed by November, two personal and one a music video (no joke, though please get Vanessa Hudgens/Christina Aguilera/Brittney Spears out of your head.) I have also gone back to writing fiction, but since my inherited laptop, Ahmed, began to bear the visage of the Blue Screen of Death, it's back to the starting blocks. Poor Ahmed. Good thing I'm too tired right now to wonder if there were any important files on that computer.

For us American children, the school year has started. The homework, while easy, has been confusing and tedious, though I shall prevail. I bore an eagle eye for any potential drama in the upcoming year and sought to quell it at the start instead of throughout the year. I had a feeling I'd have enough to worry about both in school and out.
It is a heavy load to be the eldest grade in school, and to receive the knowledge that the general school spirit is pleading, "Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope!" I've had so many urges to become Supreme Dictator of the School (TM) but that's impossible right now. Time to plot...

I also am employed(!) grading work at a learning center with a Purple Pen of Awesomeness. Pretty happy that the kids there have actually learned to trust me, and that I CAN actually help them with their work. The first couple days, they would come up to the graders' desk, look from Yuki to me, and then abruptly walk to Yuki's side of the table for help. Oi!

Enough of my physical life. Let us now turn to the philosophical ramblings such lives are never complete without.

I remember that every year I constantly wished to never forget anything. Still, I remember that when I was a baby I would be overwhelmingly frustrated that my mother was feeding me a huge, slimy piece of banana rather than Cheerios (which I disliked after a few seconds because they'd lose their taste and turn rather disgusting) among other things.

And then, of course, there are the bits of stuff I wanted to forget more than anything. (Stupidities etc. anyone?) My subconscious still gripped them, because I knew that I was afraid that by losing such memories, I'd lose the lesson they taught me.

I've been able to divide my young life into chapters, and I'm now well-aware that I am losing many of those memories from Elementary School that bothered me so. The lessons stay, though, and pop up to give a slap in the face whenever necessary. But it bothered me more than anything that I would forget names, faces, events, and other things that occured during the time I did not write in my journal every night. Come sixth grade, I wrote every single night about the day and every single detail that it involved. As a result, I remembered things vividly that in the present, many of my friends or family do not at all.

So I've asked myself, is it better to remember and know everything, even though the world does not and refuses to?

I suppose I'm a bit fearful now, because ninth grade will be the last year of junior high. Next year will be the start of a new chapter, and who knows, the world might just turn inside out as it has with some of my other friends and family who have traversed the bridge to this chapter in the past. I've always known what to expect, but now, I don't. And that's scary and thrilling, like dancing the Charleston at the edge of a cliff.

And then, of course, there's the longing we all have for some sort of epic adventure. I have not been touched in the least by a war that I could make a difference in. I have not suffered or rallied people to a cause that makes the world a better place through the trials. I have no dragon watching over me, nor superpowers that could help me save instead of watch. It's hard to realize that in the end, you weren't even a blip in the universe. You nor the people whom you loved ever existed in the eyes of people on different worlds, and all of our worlds are so seperate, yet we know that the other is there waiting for us to reach out and touch somewhere in the middle. It is the same longing I feel when I look on google images for nebulas, seeing their beauty, but unable to reach it, and knowing it won't be there by the time I actually do.

Oh boy.

This is what happens when I get sick. And when I eat a bowl full of Longan.

So...anyways. More art is coming. Yeah?