It's almost 3am on a Monday (ungodly early) morning, and I feel as if my head is about to fall off. Y'see, for almost a year or so I've had the uncanny ability to crack/pop my neck bones (usually with multiple pops so it sounds like someone walking on gravel/packing bubbles). So, in the midst of working on some homework, I crack my neck as usual... and then I get dizzy fairly quickly. Still dizzy at the moment actually.

If this continues till school starts, then AP History will be one rather long and painful ordeal. To make matters worse, we're taking notes on prolific airbrush artists in Art today. Normally I don't mind so much, but there's an assignment that I'm just itching to finish. And I'll be damned if I don't have class time to work on it (since my afterschool activities take up most-to-all of that time).

“You’re sending me after the Metatron alone?”

/ No, I’m sending you to Hell, to find Crawly, who will assist you in overthrowing the Metatron, and redeem himself, and you two can make happy angel babies while I rearrange the plazas of Heaven in an aesthetically pleasing manner. How does that strike you?/ asked God.

Aziraphale choked on his tea.

Bad habits are starting to make their severely unwanted presence known. I also have a premonition that sis is picking up on these evil habits as well. Thing is, she cannot afford the time I waste while procrastinating. Eh.

Looking back, I realize now that it really was mostly my fault. Hindsight is a bitch... a bitch with constant 20/20 vision.

And it's a pity that not too many people know of Holcombe Waller. His music is really befitting of my mood at the given hour.

Which reminds me of all the numerous times sis has chewed me out for not sympathizing with characters in movies. That's just it, I don't sympathize with characters. Stories are nice, but most of the time it's all just fiction. And besides, as a movie watcher I cannot make a personal connection with what I see.

I make plenty of connections through music. It's really the best substitute for emotion there is. Even the visual arts cannot compare with the amazing range of emotions music can communicate.

...but music cannot be meditated beyond what is heard and/or read. The visual arts, more so than the performing arts, can be studied and examined and so much more lasting than the fleeting movements of a ballet or the actors upon a stage.

Crap. I'm rambling on again. Time to stop.

I. Don't. Want. To. Touch. That. Canvas.