Happy Birthday, love.

"Dead Tradition."  ......................................................2010

Today I mainly consider real critique versus the opportunity to poke fun at someone, most of all a scorned individual. I am guilty of this, and despite my attempts at excuse, sometimes it was just plain insulting going on. I feel jabbed to know that some of the students in my class barely give two fucks about art and go to the Academy to get a piece of paper that says they did something with their life. Especially when there are students, much like my closest friends and myself, that want to make something of their work. And here we sit, wasting our time even bothering to give the lazy shit's work a glance, wasting our money and teachers instead of dedicating time to those that really want this. You might ask, "But how can you tell?"

You can fucking tell.

If someone at least has the energy to fake giving a fuck, then I should try to pretend as well when critiquing their work. In recent years I have, my freshman year? Not so much. I was still freshly mean from my high school years. You learn these lessons eventually.

Now I am stuck in one. Does she mean it? Or does she hate me?

Poor Indians, I wish they'd come back.