All I can seem to think to write about now are my days. But I suppose those are good... to me. And you, fellow reader? Well, that depends on whether or not you care.
I've recently developed the assumption that readers who don't know me personally will just not care about any post I make that has to do with events in my life, or as I like to call them, diary-like entries. So I try to make helpful, compelling posts that present my research and opinions on things more relevant to a passerby's interest than just my every day life. Yet when I visit random blogs (by surfing NaBloPoMo blogrolls), I am often intrigued by the very posts I refuse to write—the ones about every day life.
I'm sitting in the bottom floor office of my house right now, on my mom's laptop. Jose is next to me, using my Macbook to type up his blog entry. He's trying to do it every day in Japanese so he doesn't lose his chops over the summer. I really should get back into French. Hell, I don't even know why I'm so compelled to learn that language. I guess I just like it.
I'll put up another drawing soon. It's on my Macbook, and needs to be sliiiightly edited so I'll do that before putting it up here.
Oh, remember what I said in my last post about wanting to find more books in the style of George Bridgman's Book of a Hundred Hands? Yea, I found out that he wrote more: on heads and faces, figure drawing, drapery, and more. Needless to say, I ordered some... like a boxed set. I hope it comes in before I go to Texas, I'm so excited for it.
On Monday I watched Amélie with Scott. I really liked it (and no, not just because it was in French :P). I was never really interested in indie films like that, but it is rather pleasant in its every-day-life-ness.
Kind of like the posts I so hesitate to write.