Charcoal Drawings and Getting Everything Wrong.

Here I am, unsurprisingly, three Sundays from the Sunday I intended to start my blog and no idea where to begin.

I bought some charcoal. I think I wanted to be creative or something, and I really did try, but visual arts are as familiar to me as the Mona Lisa itself. So instead I write things, and kind of scribble, and I put them on the wall beside my bed when I am proud of them. So far I have one and it’s a quote I found on the internet.

I moved house. My first house actually. It’s an apartment above an art gallery on the main street of Wellington. Seemingly cliche but it makes me love it all the more. Our lounge has exposed brick walls (with a hint of inappropriate graffiti from the previous tenants) and my bedroom has beautiful old windows that I can slide right up and watch the city from. Until now I never noticed how little people look up. I’m only three stories up, and no one ever sees me. That makes me sad. Not because they don’t see me, but because people appear to be too busy with their own lives to notice what’s really happening.

I learnt how to pay power bills. And although I currently don’t have a spare cent after the Sevens Weekend (no regrets whatsoever) so my credit rating may be a little screwed before I even put my foot in the door. Somehow I’m ok with that. Artists are inherently fiscally irresponsible.

For me 2015 is a year of living and learning as opposed to getting it right all the time. I know that I will have more of an adventure, and learn more about both myself and the world around me if I get everything wrong, instead of getting everything right.