1:27 AM. Nashville, TN

Well, this has been a while since I have blogged. Honestly, it is really funny to see how things change. Year to year and season to season. Here I am. Nashville, TN. Still an artist, but not in the sense that i was in the past. An artist through my painting and ceramics, yes, i still love it. Do I do it often? No. And that has changed me. Really taught me is a better word. Taught me that when a bird is in a cage it can not soar. I know my life will always involve art.

A doodle on the back of a notecard, or a friendly gift in the form of a ceramic mug. These things I know will always be a part of me. Of the person I am. Nashville. A City that has accepted me for who I am. Now, working a full time job and in college. Pretty busy. Sounds impressive on paper. It is not what I thought it was. It really isn't glamourous at all. A job. Paying for it all. Knowing that it will all be worth it when i step off the plane in Vienna and smell the crisp fall air. So beautiful. A place of art. A place of culture. A place to find myself. Kimberly, so lost. Always has and always will be. Its my mind and my complete soul that aches for a new adventure, but old friends. Being able to sit on the porch with my best friend and have him light up his pipe and tell stories and laugh for hours over memories and honestly, nothing. Long nights and talks that have shaped me to the person I am today. Nights with my best friend where me and her sit and watch movies and eat ice cream just because. Family. We are family, and we love to love. We love to share and laugh and care for each other.

Yes, I may be a couple glasses in, but I feel that no matter where life leads in adventure, there will be people to call home. to love and grow in love. to live a life where we no longer accept the love we think we deserve, but overflow with love. a love that comes when you get a hand-written note, a hug for no reason, or a smile from a stranger. this love is real. And i am writing tonight, sitting, listening to Civil Wars, because I miss the love I was sharing when I created. it makes me sick to think i have stopped. stopped creating. painting abella's nursery last night made me feel at home. home with my soul. the movement of the brush and the paint dancing together and creating a melody of lines on the wall. such a piece of who i am. i love the release it offers me. nothing a glass of wine can give me. pure happiness. pure love and content to know that for a moment the world is quiet.

3:42AM

Hello there, it is 3:42 AM and I am lost. Not in an "I can't find my way" type way. But, in an artist way.

Well, let me first explain something to you folks...well folk, or whoever reads this. i am an artist. I know I am. I have been since I started taking classes in 2nd grade. Even before that I loved art. Everything about it. Well, the more I create, the more I love it. It takes me to this place where the world just kind of spins around me and I can dance with color and texture. My art is personal. Yes, very personal. Therefore, when I have my AP art teacher breathing down my back I feel like he is reading my diary. EW. Anyways, the most insulting thing you can tell an artist is, "This work is not original, or become more original" those evil words no artist, photographer, musician or any of the sort would want to hear. Well, let me tell you. After three consecutive 88%s on my artwork in this class, i was given this remark. Now, let me tell you something else. I will defend my work till the day I die. I love my art, it is part of me. This piece was one of my favorites. According to my rubric it was not original enough...meaning my teacher hates me and wanted to grade me down. Well, heres to you mr.teacher. I DO NOT CARE WHAT YOU THINK. I DO NOT CARE WHAT I GET ON THIS AP TEST. I create art for me, but mostly for my CREATOR. Now, with this in mind, i started to let myself go tonight...slapping colors on canvas and letting it flow with mr.jack johnson in the background, as usual. I started 5 paintings, didn't finish one. Well, some i do not even know what they are going to be, they haven't told me. Crazy, a canvas talking to the artist. But, honestly I know now how most artists are insane. A object can make you so mad, so happy, and feel so small. The blank canvas can stare at you and call you an idiot, because it is afraid of the passionate painter inside. Well, as I still here typing with dried acrylic paint on my hands, I see it clear. I know that I love art. I know that I love to face that blank canvas. There is this fire in me that wants to destroy and silence the blank canvas. It makes me want to create for bigger reasons than a grade, because frankly I do not care about my AP studio grade. Sorry Orange Lutheran...i don't care. It is something I almost regret taking. I have been torn down in this class so much to the point that i enjoy ceramics more. I absolutely love my alone time on the wheel. So peaceful, until the band starts practicing and I can't find my headphones...yeah. ok, now I am rambling, but I just needed to throw that out there. So, I am signing off, I still haven't done my econ homework. i am past the point of senioritis...if that is possible.

12:39pm...weird.

Here I sit at school...new. A new semester, well two weeks into it all. There is no more crazy stress from the applications but just a soft whisper in my ear telling me I still have so much to complete. The weather is so perfect. I am in my navy dress with a striped cardigan and tights. I feel like I am a serious student. I listen to violin music to soothe my senses, and the ideas start to flow. Paint, canvas, figures, landscapes. I am frustrated. I have always been told what to paint, and know that I have to choose an idea it puzzles me. Should I have went with the figures? What if AP hates it? What if I hate it. I put my whole soul into a piece of work to only be shot down or given an 88% for the millionth time. It is getting old. I want Van Gogh, I want Adermov, I want artists that are like Monet, challenge and explore the surroundings. Can see a beautiful landscape and take it for just that. There is no limits, no personal connection or deep meaning. Simply, a place to let your eyes waltz around the colors and textures that make up a painting. The absolute glee that a piece of art can deliver. Artists have always been misunderstood, or crazy. Whatever. This is a new way of looking at it. Maybe we are not misunderstood, but the people around us are. They are misunderstood, and unable to point out the "goal" in art. There is none. The more art classes I take the more I do not enjoy painting...I love my lessons, but the school's idea of a painting and mine are two very different things. I do not want to make art for him or AP. I want to make art for me and that is that. This post is more of a vent I guess you can say. I am about to take on a huge responsibility and I need the strength as an artist to be able to step back and tell myself to follow my gut. I think it is quite a leap of faith, and I look forward to the journey ahead of me. This will not be hard. I will not attach a picture of my artwork, for I believe that if it was to be seen it would be found. Art is a treasure, and the value is in finding the treasure and the utter beauty in a perfect crimson red or a cool phalo blue. It works. God made it work.

It has been TOO long!

I AM BACK!

Wow! It has been forever since I have blogged. I am not sure why that is, in all honesty, I have been more interested in anything than dropping my thoughts into an ocean of aimless babbles. But, alas, I am here. You may not read this, but it is more for me I suppose. There is a certain peace I experience when I am able to babble on about life and love, or lack there of love or happiness or just my life in general. As I had stated before I AM BACK, new year, 2012. I went to India! I did. And wow, just wow. The people, the beauty in a country that is so forgotten. I was in love. It wasn't the Taj or the villages even, at some moments it was my team and the love and support they showed me through the whole trip. But, there is one moment I will NEVER forget...Her granddaughter's name was Chandani, she was the Grandmother. We were in a small village named Jordi and I was more than ready to keep stretching my faith. At this point i had shared my testimony, and helped with VBS and witnessed with my actions...now it was time to take a leap. More of a giant jump...afraid of what to say or how to say it. Pastor Bond was heading down to the village area where men sat there, full of dirty from their days work, sweat stoked up their shirts, as they sat on a type of stack of sticks sort deal. We walked up to them and Pastor Bond was with Minaoj, our connection in india, and translator. Bond asked if they wanted to hear about Jesus and they all agreed. Here, I watched, listened and learned how to share the word. Wow, it was so neat. All the Bible assignments, worksheets, and cliches out the window. This was the living Bible, the words from the Holy Spirit spoken through His people. So COOL! I had always thought that God rewarded the faithful men and woman, and i was right. In this moment I was shown sheer love in front of me, there was a sense of joy...and i wanted it. Not for me, not for the sake of the trip, but for the woman that sat there with her baby. Bond proceeded to lead the men to Christ, as my stomach began to turn...this was it. That feeling when "no one wants to go first" and there is a musty awkward silence...He asked if anyone would like to share to the woman here........ I kind of raised my hand, in a way where I could cover it up...my dear friend, Hannah, simply asked if we could share together to this woman. My heart raced, I was so excited. I began to talk, being the jabber-jaws I am. Hannah was a bit shy, but helped me when I paused. I had a translator so I figured it would give me time to muster up the words I would tell about my Savior. Before I knew it, I was sharing the gospel message...and some of the words just came out of my mouth...i was in awe. My heart ached with happiness, that is the best way to describe it, it felt like 100000 lbs! I remember writing in my diary that it was the coolest feeling ever and I was exploding with joy that I had another sister in Christ. So many memories in India...handing out the bracelets that several people made with me to give to them. The "5" hour bus ride...that really means 12 hours. India was nothing i expected. it was more.