Things are feeling pretty good right now... well, besides the car being out of commission for hopefully only temporarily.

I made a new friend in Minnesota. He's pretty far away, but at least it's someone my age who I can talk with about small-town MN stuff. He's a little... well.... he comes on strong. We were talking for less than a day and he already wanted to make the three hour trip down to my town to hang out, and there's obviously some non-platonic feelings from his side. That kind of really fast stuff. He's sweet but a little too fast for me. It's cute, though. I don't know how I feel about it.

I think I'm gonna cancel my appointment with the surgeon. Everything in my gut seems to have settled down pretty well. I can keep food down and my appetite is starting to get back. I'm fairly certain whatever was happening in my gut was just the bad things in my head moving on to somewhere else. My thoughts are happy and so is my belly, so I think I'll be just fine.

I'm trying to turn more of my casual internet conversation people into friends. So far, I'm only really close with a few of them. I want to be better friends to all or most of them. I'm tired of being only someone who sits in the group chat and says dumb stuff occasionally. I want to have actual real conversations with people, like I have with Zoey.

Speaking of Zoey, she lead me to a pretty good show. I've watched eight hours of it in the past couple days. Steven Universe is pretty cool beans.

AAAAaaaaanyway, I'm still here. I'm still alive. I don't see either of those changing anytime soon. I'll keep working on pixelly pocket monsters and do some other face things for people in the group. The more I do, the better I'll get, and the happier others will be.

I need to learn how to do actual art that isn't a couple hundred squares. I want to put down the beautiful things I see in my mind and in my world down on a paper and share it with the world, but my hands don't want to do it. That's ok. Art isn't for everyone.

Maybe I'll try getting back into writing...

...

I swear my writing is better than these journals. My poetry and prose actually flows instead of jumping from topic to topic for no reason. I can write better than this. My journals are just lightly-edited torrents of thoughts from my brain. I can't really help it without taking a lot longer to write these, and I'd rather keep them pure and true to current me.

blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
frosty