Took Tish to family going-away gathering, fed the Tish, and she got her paycheck. Viva la paycheck. Also got her most of her money for her New and Mighty Computer. So that is a good thing.
In finishing up my room-sweep, I found drawings I didn't even know I had, still. I keep everything. Found the first thing I ever really 'tried' to draw... a picture of my first RP character. It makes small children cry, and I will scan it so you might see how my art has changed in... three, four years. I dunno. But yes, there's a crapload of art. I'm taking it with me. I like to look over my old work every so often to remind myself of how much it is possible to SUCK. I am masochistic like that.
It seems everyone is so certain I will become horribly homesick after a week or so of living by myself. I don't know what on earth brought this on. Homesick? I laugh.
I cannot be any more homesick than I already am. Home is not the place I lay my head at night.
Home was the band hall, always so full of life and activity, always a place to find someone to talk to or something to do, or to hide in the corner if I so chose.
Home was Dan, Michael, Greg, the people I loved and trusted more than anyone and felt so safe with.
Home was Texas Art, with people who were closer to me than my actual family, people who understood how my mind worked, doing what I loved.
Home was my stories, my characters, living inside their heads and being them for as long as it took to write their lives.
This, this is just a scenery change. I will be no more homesick in San Antonio than I am sitting here at my computer right now. Because I left the band hall; I have drifted from Dan, Michael, and Greg; I left TAS; and the stories left me.
I can't go home again.