Rushed Illustration Volume 1

As the title clearly states , I didn't put a whole lot of time into making this little illustration, but it helped me remember the right things to bring. Tomorrow I am leaving for St. Louis to stay with some awesome friends, and I can't wait. I've never been to St. Louis, so that makes it even more exciting. 

This illustration includes a couple of the things I'll be jamming into my Kanken backpack five minutes before we leave, since I tore everything out to make sure that my earbuds were in there, which they were. Well, that's my prediction for how tomorrow morning will go, anyway. I'm bringing my camera, and hopefully I'll actually use it! I'll be sure to upload what photos I do take on here, and maybe a person or two will actually see them, or maybe that will just keep them from taking up space on my camera.

Wow, it's 9:34 PM, I need to go to bed by ten so I can get up early, I still have packing to do, my room is a mess, my hair really needs brushed, I need to do some yoga, and it's the worst blogging time ever, so naturally I'm feeling really chatty and in the mood to blog. Of course!

The drive to St. Louis is 9 hours (!!!) and I'm guessing the first 4.5 will be fun-I'll draw, doodle, knit, listen to an audio book, watch a movie, jam out to Mac Demarco, but then for the other 4.5, I'll be screaming to get out of the car and stretch. Still, I'm excited. Traveling makes me so happy, and I'm pretty sure I haven't been somewhere far and new since November, when I went to California. 

I was expecting to write one cheesy sentence like "Sorry I haven't blogged, my life's so hectic, I will try to in the future!" but I think this is better. 

So if you just read all of that-which I am not expecting many people too-then here, this is for you. I apologize for the lameness of that link, and if you see me in real life then I'll give you a real one. 

Well, I guess I should probably finish packing and everything. Happy July everyone :)

-India 

Blood, Cassete Tapes, and Aging

Today is Sunday, June 7th. These are two watercolor paintings I did today, and they are my favorites out all of my most recent work.

 I haven't done a personal diary-style post in a while, mainly just quick posts so that I can say that I've blogged, when really I never put a whole lot of effort into them. 

My birthday is exactly one month away, and I'll be turning 14. I haven't really decided how I feel about that yet. Of course, I'm excited. Making a list of what I want, and giving it to my parents, and the anticipation of the gifts, and the cake and everything is always fun when you're young. But the idea of being 14 is something I haven't figured out. 

13 is a fun age, while also a simultaneously terrible age. Finally being able to call yourself a teenager is great, but then all of the hormones and expected responsibilities tied in make it less great. People have always told me that I'm mature for my age, and I started to figure that out at a young age, especially when I would rather hang out with my mom's friends than my own. I'm still that way, and I've made more older friends in the past year who wouldn't realize that I was only 13 until something about age or grade came up and I told them. They're always surprised, which is cool, but then I always feel kind of young admitting that I'm only 13. So in a way, 14 is good, because when that does happen, it sounds a lot better than 13, at least in my opinion. But 14 is such an in-limbo kind of age. I'll be back at the bottom of the totem pole in school, but more likely to get that "what a teenager" look from adults. But while I've been writing this post, I've sort of realized that age is just a number, decided by humans, so that we are able to identify how much time we have spent on Earth. In the long run, it's not a big deal, unless we make it a big deal, which I am. My mom and I were talking about that earlier today, how everything could be a big deal if we make it, or it could mean nothing at all, if we let it. Sometimes that can be hard to grasp, and getting caught up in little things, such as what it's like to be 14, can be easier. 

Here's a random work of advice: blogging with a cone of mango sorbet in one hand is really difficult, and I wouldn't recommend it. 

I'm going to dedicate this year of being 14 (even though it hasn't even started) to becoming a better artist. 

Learning Lessons

Sometimes it's hard to tell what you have until it's gone.
And when you realize it, it feels almost like a slap in the face, or at least hurts like that would. Maybe more.

Even simple things, such as being able to climb trees in your yard and not have to wonder if they are on your neighbors property, because your houses are so close. Or being able to get groceries in under fifteen minutes, instead of an hour and a half. These things trigger that same feeling, because the no longer exist in my life.
The number one thing causing me to have this horrible feeling, however, is probably the community I gave up when I moved away from the town I lived. Something about growing up in community makes an impact that lasts forever. Having people that you know you could show up at there house in the middle of the night and they'd take care of you, even though they aren't family, is so special, especially at at my age. When you go to the grocery store, and everyone working recognizes you, it feels really good. Again, that's something I took for granted, until the moment I moved here, and was forced to shop in a place so big and uninviting.

Lately my family and I have been spending our extra time during the week watching The Wonder Years, our favorite show, which follows Kevin Arnold throughout middle and high school. It's so good, comforting even, but has made me miss my small town even more. Kevin's family lives in a community, and he and his friends have grown up and experienced so much together. I miss that feeling of connection with people who, even though they aren't much like me, would be there for me no matter what. The show was set in the sixties, and I think that back then community was more common. It seems to me like now, community is hard to find. There are less places where you can sit somewhere by a road, and be able to count the number of familiar faces you see. Now, where I live, I go into store and don't see anyone from school that I know. There are hardly any family owned businesses that trace back through generations, and even the library has an atmosphere of rigid unwelcoming-ness.

Thirteen is a tough age alone, and surviving it without the love and support of my childhood friends and people I would call family even though we have none of the same blood, is a difficult feat. I've even begun to miss things I never before would have thought were even possible to miss. Things like the bus ride home from school, the post office, boring middle school dances, and lots more. Even characteristic of people that once annoyed me, I have started to miss. On top of all of those feelings of longing for that sense of community, I have to deal with adolescent-moodiness and angst, and the sun deprivation. I guess this isn't the most uplifting post. But these are feelings I need to acknowledge. I've had them bottled up for quite some time.

This is not to say that I don't like the friends I've made here, the good experiences I've had here, or the cool places I've been to here. I do, but this is not a place I could ever be able to call my home.
But moving has helped me in a way, I guess. I have learned so much. I have realized how lucky I am to be part of the family I am in, and that lots of people don't get to grow up in the type of community I did, and that I should not have taken it so for granted.

This picture is not mine, but it is the same as one we used to have on our old refrigerator. I used to read it, before we moved, and not think about it very much. Now, I do. In my opinion, this is an important way of life that should not be forgotten.

Timeless

It's hard for any experience to really, really feel timeless, because of the constant change in technology, style of the world, etc, but this day did. It was the typical perfect fall day, including apple orchards and pumpkins and farm animals and rosy cheeks and jean jackets. 

I made some new friends. 

After saying goodbye to these adorable new friends of mine, my family and I headed into the orchards and picked over 90 apples, and I also ate way more of them than I should have….but it's hard not to try each one. 

 My mom and I spotted some sunflowers growing and immediately decided it was a great photo op.

An Introduction

This is the last picture of me as a 12 year old, when I was still living in Virginia.

August 6, 2014.

Today, much like many of the past days this summer, was productive and busy, while at the same time, calm. So far the summer in which I officially entered the teen years, (which would be this summer) has been the strangest, and probably most difficult one yet. As if becoming a teenager-which comes with sudden bursts of moodiness, angst, short lasting obsessions with certain things and many other feelings and situations-wasn't enough, my dad's job moved and he had to get a new job in Pennsylvania, seven hours from where I lived and two from where I was born. He moved up there in May to work, while my mom, brother and I stayed back in Virginia and finished the school year. We lived like that throughout June and half of July, my dad driving down on the weekends, but that ended when we rented our perfect house out to a family that needed to move in by July 15. That was the very day that we packed up most of our belongings, put our lives on hold, and drove to my moms parents house to temporarily live, which is where I am writing from. To be exact, I'm sitting against the wall on the carpet, next to my cat Jazzy, and across from my grandma who is knitting. Although she really isn't one of those grandmas, who sits around knitting or baking cookies all day. In fact, she's very opposite. She makes kombucha and does yoga and things like that. Anyway, enough about my grandma.

Initially, I sort of wanted to move. I was living in a very, very conservative and preppy area, where no one wore doc martins or was vegan, and was ready to escape. I never felt like I fit in, even with my friends, so naturally when I realized I never would fit in with them, I started trying to rebel even more. I dressed in lots of black, became vegan, listened to music my school-mates had never heard of until I was done listening to it, and whatever they did,
tried to do the opposite. The whole time I was also trying to figure myself and my style out. And now, after experimenting with many different things, such as music, clothing, food, and hobbies, I've realized that I can't settle on one thing, since it changes day to day. 

For a few weeks, I really didn't want to move, since my mom was very unhappy because of it and that made me unhappy too, and I just wanted my life and family put back together. They were definetly some of the worst weeks ever for me, and of course my birthday (July seventh) fell right in the middle of them. 

By now, I'm mixed on moving. I love new people and new experiences, but I have realized things that I miss about where I used to live. Luckily, living at my grandparents has proven to be very good for me. I've been able to sort out my feelings and work on many of my projects and not be overwhelmed by things to do, since I never have anything I have to do, just what I want to do, such as finally starting up my blog, which is serving more as a public diary for me, where I can unleash my messy thoughts, art, and emotions, post my outfits and experiences, and list some vegan recipes and other projects that I make.