I must say…there is nothing like coming home after a 14 hour day (mostly consisting of ceramics),  taking off my rain boots and letting my dog Sophie sit on my chest as I type this post. Sophie and the heat from my laptop keep me warm on the first night of December. I am all tingly inside.

I am working on trying to make as many things as possible for the last bisque firing on Sunday. Cups, cups, cups, and more cups and FLOWER sculptures. Abstract flowers. I don’t care if they don’t look like flowers to you silly masters student blow-drying your slab construction. You are clearly blind (and I am obviously cranky when I am sleep deprived).

I like the feeling of spending all day in the studio. I feel accomplished when I leave, a mood often absent in the past when I walked away from other kinds of work. What does this mean? I must never take another break from clay (or yoga) ever again. It is essential to my happiness, no matter how crummy life is at the moment.

And as the days pass I grow ever more confused as to what the hell I am doing. It is getting a bit more challenging trying to eSSSplain myself to others when asked why the hell I am still in college. (“taking art classes felt like a good idea?”)

December.