I practice talking sometimes.

It's a little funny that way: I've worked over the air before, but I have such little confidence in my voice. I stutter. My lips or teeth or jaw have always felt awkward, and I'd even seen a speech therapist when I was young. The braces didn't help, and the full implications of "JAW SURGERY" hit me all at once about a month before it was supposed to happen. I'm also first-generation Canadian, and my parents have never been great with English. I don't know if that's why I took to music and drawing and literature and Math so eagerly.

I've always had a thing for expression, for communication. Anyone who knows me will also know I have a crush on Math for that very reason--among others.

I love that, in Math, any aspect of life or any thought can be modeled using these strange symbols and even stranger rules, both of which can be taught to anyone; ideas can be communicated, proven, or disproven, and even improved upon by any number of people also seeking to find the most perfect expressions.

It's a whole community devoted to perfect universal truths.

... Hehe!

Saturday, December 22, 2007

Quick Sketch

I made this sketch tonight.

On Tuesday, I got this haircut. It's incredibly butch. That's what I wanted.

My parents, however, must think it's a good way of pointing out how different I am from the idea of Girl, and saying how I shouldn't be this way and that I should change and be a good girl.

I hate that. So much.

So, I took a good look at myself in the mirror, and, I liked what I saw! Quickly, I grabbed a board and paper and drew as I saw in the mirror; it shows, with the right hand and the funny posture. But I like this picture. I like my face. I like myself. And I don't have to care who else likes it.

Though, because I like the face so much, I may finish it, one day, holding a bazooka or crossbow or something. Yeah!

--Charissa

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