I have an addiction. One of many actually. But this one can run my life. Books.

I haven't been able to read for my own pleasure in weeks which shouldn't seem so long to most folks. I, however, normally read a book a day thanks to my mother's lessons in speed reading when I was young. Oh books!!

Friday (Yesterday) I realized we were going into a long weekend. I was ready to jump out of my skin with joy when I realized I'd be able to go to the library. When I say addicted that's exactly what I mean. I was strolling through the isles with twitchy hands because I'd glimpse a provocative title or see a tasty looking layout on the spine. I must look like I'm on drugs as I wander about because I'll suddenly freeze midstep to read a title or crane my neck around trying to see everything there is available.

I did manage a modicum of control. I told myself, very strictly, that I could have a handful of books on two subjects. That's it. No kid in the candy store behavior. Talk about torture! I chose the concept of the harem and native American ethnographies. I must've spent hours picking and choosing since I couldn't take all that I wanted. I ended up leaving with only eight books. *insert puppy dog eyes* Four on one subject, three on the other, and one piece of pure fantasy fiction(I couldn't resist).

I've already finished four of them and I'll finish the rest tonight.

The topic of the harem is both lovely and sensuous in some ways and deeply mortifying. Not for the carnal reasons but for the control aspect of misogynistic cultures. What is done to women in some cultures is... evil. I don't think I truly believe in the concept of evil but I will apply the word here. I won't get too far into it until I research more than maybe I'll write a more informed entry on the topic.

I will say, don't mistake me. I recognize the intrinsic value of these cultures. I know all about the contributions they've made to mankind as a whole. I believe most of their rituals and values are beautiful and reasonable. But torture and murder are never going to find fertile soil in my heart for which to set root as acceptable.

The ethnographies and mythology is equally inspiring and sad. I've got one book about Dakota grandmother's, one about the Blackfoot, and a book of Ojibwa myths and legends. I'll write more about those once I've finished all of them.

Alright. I'd love to write my fingers sore, but alas, my books are calling.

How uneventful my days are. A map turned up today in the mail. I collect them. I order them from travel agencies all over the country and when they show up I pin them up all over my bedroom wall. I find them oddly comforting. Visually I find them intriguing like puzzles lacking any answer. Also, when I have a bad day I look at them and think " Whatever your problems, there's the world. There are millions of people with bigger problems, hundreds of thousands rising up and dealing with their problems, and others who are living joyful lives. It's your own choice sister." When I have good days I can look at them and imagine what it'd be like to travel there. I've almost got all the southwestern states.

Today Nevada arrived. Some are lovely, some are simple, all of them are thoroughly enjoyed. I have to share, Vermont and Arizona offer fabulous, large, intricate maps. Left to my own devices I think I'll wallpaper my entire room with them. It'll be like making THE crossroads of all roads right here in my bedroom. When I get particularly bored I get up, close my eyes, and randomly place my finger on a map. Then I google wherever my finger landed until I'm satisfied. It's surprisingly enjoyable.

The world isn't kind enough for me to have the ability to travel without care. Unfortunately. So, I explore via the internet. I dream of a time where I find a career that allows for me to work from wherever I am. I'd live out of my car and cheap hotels moving from one town to another all the way across the U.S. I suppose I could also tolerate living in an RV which is probably the more practical idea.

You know those diverting, off the track tourist traps? The world's largest ball of yarn, the world's biggest cheese ball, etc? I want to see them all. All of them. I'm nearly a quarter of the way through my life, if I'm lucky, and I can think of nothing more wonderful then spending the rest of it looking at the world's largest ball of yarn.

The meaning of life is to stop asking that particular question, put some matches in your toes, and get on with living. It's not the destination (that we all dread) but the journey that matters. These last five years of my journey have been fairly dreadful. I try to take the good, learn from the bad, and get on with it. I'm impatient to graduate so that the final obligation I made to my parents will be complete. From the day of my graduation onward I'll have no responsibilities towards anyone but myself and I crave that freedom.

First: I wake up late for class because, per usual, I thought it was a grand idea to stay up until nearly dawn watching movies. I'm late, for MATH, and it's the one class I really cannot afford to miss because I don't understand it in the first place much less if I miss a lecture. The bright note to this part is I did the big girl thing and sprinted out of bed and went to class. One point for me.

Second: I zoom into the gas station and fill up. This goes fine. Until I'm leaving the gas station at which time I smell something akin to burning plastic. It was most definitely not my cigarette. I look to my left, nothing. Look to my right, and yes, there it is. A cloud of smoke coming out of my AC vent. This is a bad thing, I know this, but I'm late for class. I turn the car off, turn the AC off, wait a second then turn it back on. No more smoke!! Yay. I go to class. This is where I lose the point I previously gained because the car really should've gotten priority.

Third: I need a camera! It's part of an assignment that is due next Tues and for once I'm actually trying to get the work done before the day before it's due. <~ Brownie point. I'm down in the basement of the art building (this is where we hide our cool stuff) and a nice guy is trying to help me find a camera. One bag after another has video camera after video camera but no digital camera. Uh oh! Wait, is that a camera!! It is, it's........ old school. I can't use a film loader......... This goes on for a while but at last! A digital camera. One point! However, Dave (who might know where my canvas is) isn't there. Minus one point.

Fourth: I go up to the studio where my art disappeared from to confront whoever is using it and they're totally not there. I left a trite little note asking her to call me if she knows what happened to my canvas. I doubt she'll take the time but I made the effort. I also snooped in every studio on the upper floor to see if I could pin theft on anyone. The good news is I didn't find anything that looked like mine!! So maybe my work is still floating around somewhere. So, another minus.

Let's do the math:

Late but determined: +1
Smokey car: -1
Non-procrastination: +1
Getting Camera: +1
Not finding Dave: -1
Not finding my art or someone to interrogate: -1

3-3=0

I guess this is a mathematical representation of 'breaking even'. In other words, coulda been worse. I'm determined my day will get better somehow. Today, will, be, a, great, day. And I will stomp anyone who tries to stop me! Buahahahaha ahem.

I bought an upgraded membership today!! For a year. To be honest I'm not entirely sure why. It's not like I'm a prolific writer anymore. I think part of me is hoping that the money I put into the membership will be a boot in my butt to get me writing again.

I used to write constantly. Poetry, fiction, prose, journal. Then I met and dated C. Wow. Did you know dating an abusive individual can actually lower your intelligence? I realized that within two weeks of dumping him.

I just haven't found my muse again yet. I know it's there I just don't know how to get him back. Fear!!! The great stiller. The great quiet. But writing.com has always been a tremendous inspiration and motivator so here's hoping!

You know those times where you've put off doing something because you knew it wasn't imperative? I did that. I had this little studio on campus last semester. Well, after I had this wee little mental breakdown of sorts I left my work hanging in my studio.

The thing is, students can use their studios over the summer months so I left my work hanging there. Come this semester I went back to retrieve my paintings. My twenty or so finished paintings. (Translation for the non-painters of the world- two to three years worth of work)

...

The paintings aren't there. They aren't stacked in any of the classrooms. They aren't tucked away in storage. Where did they go?

There are two possibilities. One: My wise and loving adviser/painting instructor has them in his office. Two: The piranhas known as freshman art students cannibalized my canvas. In the first instance I will jump for joy and buy him a fruit basket. In the second case, I can find out who did it and tell the entire building but probably little else. Nothing like being a pariah in an art school situation. I doubt the administration could do anything.

I honestly wouldn't twitch over losing my canvas at this point except for the fact that I need them to finish an assignment for a class. If I have to wing it and use older, mostly unfinished pieces I will, but if I fail this class because someone stole my work......... I will probably rant and rave about it all over the internet.

Wish me luck.