Coming home is often an issue for me. Now normally one needn’t find trouble with one’s own doorway, and that’s usually the case, unless an unexpected delivery of elephant vases or perhaps a gifted baby blue Buggy for your great aunt’s 90th birthday happens to be the case. And of course one never loses their own door either, though exceptions might be made if said door has been kicked open recently. Now I’ve never lost a door from my memory, but that’s beside the point. Coming home is hard, especially when one is over-sated with the flurry of life and instead of finding peace and quiet, is anointed with the flurry of fur as one opens the door. Not that my door is difficult to open or anything, it’s really just a matter of consequence. Now, when you’re tired and beaten to extinction from schoolwork and lifework and the necessities of the mundane, what you really want to do is just… come home.
Normally one may return home and be greeted by, perhaps, a tired old ‘Welcome Home’ mat, words bled through by the trials of time; or maybe a nice “old door knocker”, content to sit there well, contently. Any maybe, just maybe, one finds herself the receptionist of a family member or a beloved pet. I qualify for the latter but I do not know if one should be charmed or devastated. Instead of that goofy pal swinging his pendulum of a tail, or that model of a lovely “prim and proper” feline, I find myself in the pathway of an ongoing storm. Animals are unleashed as the final click sounds and the door is pushed open. Freedom is near and they run to grasp it. They fly, they flee, and they escape into the open, the very open you wish to escape. This scenario is made less decent by the very virtue of the mailbox, whose contents I now hold onto with my hand. Occasionally my remaining hand will be occupied as well; a book, a drink, really I seem to hold on to everything.
Now then, the real adventure begins. One may be smart about it, or be a fool. I’m no lesser than a fool so I set my things down and thus commence on a merry goose chase. Perhaps that idiom is not inappropriate, for one will find one’s own dog and cat are no different from a goose in this case. One will see, as I pick up my illustrious cat, who at the moment is stretching in the lazy spring afternoon, that now only do I need to carry a seven month old seven pound cat, I also need to herd my dog, to whom the job really should go to, back into the vortex from where they were released. Indeed my day is never over, because as soon as I put them back into the darkened room and turn my back on them, the situation resumes. As I said, coming home is often an issue for me.
[If anyone has ever read 420 Characters by Lou Beach, you’ll know why I’m inspired. Just a twist really, since I need to brush up on my fantasy writing. Oh and this is all real, just slightly exaggerated. I’m trying to write more often, since I don’t have much time to draw. APs, Finals, Regents, and all sorts of things will be coming up in the next two months ;A; Junior year sucks.]
![getting ready to paint :] starting initial sketch, still figuring out composition and the like. major changes may occur xP](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m3brdxJkPg1r7qsyoo1_1280.png)
![Dryad - ink sketch [5 minutes]
ugh finals, APs, regents, and SATs are coming up… what little time i have for art is deteriorating…](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m39wc2lDcT1r7qsyoo1_1280.png)
You know those random moments that just pop up in your head and fill you with awesomness? I believe they're called epiphanies? Well, you know what happens when a pencil [or a pen if you're cool], paper, and epiphany come together: a whole bunch of scribbles :]
