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Two bleeders before 6AM…  FROM THE SAME BOX.  I swear, I’m going to use up all the Bandaids in our first aid box at work single-handed.

Something like this happens to me every time I have to cut into or break down cardboard.  If I’m not sporting cardboard burn on my forearms, which on Tuesdays and Fridays I pretty much always am, then I’ve cut myself or my fingers are swollen because CARDBOARD HATES ME.

And I hate cardboard, too.

I’m pretty sure I took at least two customers who thought I’d recently tried to kill myself.  No, people, I just have a mutually destructive relationship with cardboard.  So sad.

I’m reading Atlas Shrugged again.  It is one of the most inspiring books I’ve ever read.  With most books I can keep track of how many times I’ve reread them, but for some reason I just can’t do that with Atlas Shrugged.  I don’t know how many times I’ve read it.  Seven or eight times, maybe more?  I really haven’t a clue.  I think about the characters in the story so often, even when I’m not reading it.  That’s the great thing about a good book, you learn from it and you keep on learning from it.  Part of me wishes that everyone would read it, but a larger part of me just wants to keep the story for myself and not share it with people who won’t appreciate it for how brilliant it is.

Every time I read this book I’m inspired to draw images from the story, only whenever I attempt it all I come up with is rubbish.  And it isn’t just that I don’t like what I draw, but that it just isn’t right at all.  I remember my art teacher telling me in middle school that there is no bad art.  That’s what they tell kids so that the ones with no talent can still feel good about themselves, the same way gym teachers let kids who suck play sports.  She also told me never to erase, but to just incorporate all of my mistakes into the project.  Well, what do you do when the whole project is a mistake?  I don’t care if it’s cheating, I erase crap all the time.  I’m no good at drawing the human form, even if all I’m trying to draw is a shadow.  So last night instead of sketching the small form of Dagny Taggart standing on a lonely stretch of railroad tracks, I end up with a malformed blob, completely disproportionate to the rest of the image.  It’s infuriating to not be able to do something you want to do.  I shall simply stick to my stick figures when it comes to people, and draw inanimate objects instead.  I can accept that I’m no good at drawing people.  Most of the time.

I’m so glad I don’t have to work tomorrow.  I have an appointment to get my oil changed, and then Walter an I are going to visit my grandmother for dinner.  I’m so glad he’s home.

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