God, help me I've come undone out of the light of the sun.

Listening To: Give Me A Sign by Breaking Benjamin
Feeling: Tired.

Yeah, I'm probably not going to be posting the lyrics with the song title and whatnot anymore. It's not like it's a big pain in the bum for me or anything, but there just really isn't any point to it except that I haven't seen someone do that. Though I will keep using lyrics as post titles. Alright, let's go ahead and get to an official post here so Flash can read it, maybe comment, and then we can all go back to our normal lives.

First of all, the suminagashi class was not exactly as I expected. Just picture me at the library with my father, whom I forced to take the class with me as some sort of bonding exercise, and I'm waiting for the class to begin because the woman is of course late, by over fifteen minutes. At this point, my spirits are not dampened because, hello, I'm in a library. A big building full of books. How can someone like me not be on cloud nine in the presence of books?

The point is, I spent the fifteen minutes plus by getting some books. Once she finally does arrive and the class is called to session, I promptly realize this day is going to be filled, absolutely filled, with WTFery. As the class contains myself and my slightly disgruntled father, two young boys who reek of mac n' cheese and ugly boy smells and their mother who is trying to be sexy sitting in the corner wearing short-shorts but really, she's way too old for those and her thighs were not what I wanted to see, and two pseudo-artistic teenagers who obviously thought they were all that. One of them was wearing a beret.

Yeah. A beret.

So the teacher comes in and instead of being deep and artistic like I imagined her, she's Miss Happy Rainbow Sunshine Unicorn, and basically treats us like we're in preschool. Which, judging by the immaturity of the two young boys next to me, I'm not surprised. It is deadpan horrible for the entire duration of her explanation about suminagashi and Japan, of which I already knew about everything she said and all the materials.

Dad ended up with a really cool one that looked like a ying-yang of skulls, and I ended up with three that just sort of looked nice. Maybe I'll post pictures eventually, but I seriously doubted it. Basically, I like the art form and everything, but the woman was severely unprepared, severely condescending, and the supplies had holes in them or the brush tips would come off randomly. I still looked like an idiot hunching over a tinfoil pan that looks like its been used a hundred times before, flicking paint and ink into the water.

My faith in the calligraphy class is dwindled. Because the suminagashi class said -- apparently -- five and up. And the calligraphy class says all ages. You would absolutely not think this, due to the fact that calligraphy is supposed to be slow and precise and careful, and you don't want a toddler that eats toenail clippings in there messing about with paper and spilling ink all over everyone while screaming like a banshee.

Pray for me.

As for other news in my life, I apparently now have a pool. A very, very large above-ground pool. I'm all excited for it and everything because it's only about four feet deep, so I won't drown (Yes, I still cannot swim. So sue me). Mom's getting all excited by getting us these fancy towels with flip-flops printed on them, getting me goggles for apparent underwater adventure, those little raft things you lay on and sip your virgin margarita on, and a pool cover. And probably a new two-piece bathing suit for me. Which brings me to the conclusion that I'm glad this pool is, of course, in the backyard, and away from anyone seeing me flailing around like an idiot, LOL'ing and being this extremely happy version of myself that rarely comes out.

I also finished the pink sketchbook. I haven't started in on the black one yet, but I'm probably going to do that today. I was all accomplished and, "Look, mom! Look, dad! I finished my sketchbook!" and they were all, "That's nice, dear" before going back along their daily business. I take it that finishing the sketchbook and starting a new one means a lot more to me than to everyone else...