Maybe it's weird, but I find paint-sets oddly beautiful. Perhaps it's the rainbow of colors or the thought they can create something magical. I'm not sure, but I love the haphazard drips scattered on the white. Like it's a whole other canvas itself.
I'm not really what you would call an artist, least not in the field of paint. I always have trouble coming up with ideas, and even then, it looks sloppy. But there's something so soothing about dipping your brush into the water, the paint, the paper. I don't even care how the finished product looks. I just like watercolors.
Hello there. How's your Monday been? Mine was rather tiring, with my camp in the morning and then helping out with my mom's camp. Now is relaxation time, though I have a whole other list of things to do. For instance, I decided rather spontaneously, at 9:30 last night, to reorganize my bookshelves. This is quite a feat, and it isn't half done yet. I've weeded out a few books I no longer care for that I'm going to give to my friend, which is a start. I also have some library books that were kind of due on Saturday, so that needs to happen. *shifty eyes*
Oh yeah, and speaking of creative stuff...something exciting (well, to me) is coming. More on that later. ;) In the mean time, I think I'll go destroy my journal some more...
P.S. I re-wrote my about me page. Check it out if you don't have anything better to do. :)