i miss my moleskine.

My very first class I took in college was a three hour long studio art class two days a week. I drove 30 minutes to sit, paint and draw for 3 hours straight. To some that may seem like torture but it was very therapeutic. My teacher was cool enough to let us bring our ipods so I would put it on shuffle and brush away.
We had to draw/paint/collage in a book pretty much every night. Most everyone bought the cheapest 8x10 hobby lobby sketch book and drew a couple of circles. Not to say what they had created wasn't art, but you could easily tell they didn't care and drew them on the way to class before turn-ins.
Everyday I spent at least an hour working on my moleskine pages. Watercolor was my favorite as well as pen and ink. I loved carrying it with me in my purse, if ever there was a lonely moment I would take it out and scribble some lyrics and doddle whatever was around me.
One night I went with Jessica to Borders and for almost an hour I remember us sitting in a corner reading Pablo Neruda poems and copying them down word for word in each of our respective moleskines. I must give Jessica the credit, she was the one who introduced me to both that great little book and the amazing poet. Jessica you're awesome, you've taught and showed me so much.

I miss having the discipline of doing art. It may have been mandatory to sit for those hours but I truly enjoyed it. Art school was for sure home and comfort.
Maybe this weekend when I get my paycheck I can slip on over to the book store and buy myself a new one.

So is that what I'm supposed to do with my life? Should I do art? Should I keep it sacred as if to keep my sanity outside of my career? Do I even need a "career"? These are the questions that plague me...bahhumbug.