existential crisis

I wrote this in my sketchbook today:

i'm trapped inside myself, and i can't find the way out

It pretty much sums up how I've been feeling for a long time now.

I am also praying I didn't contract poison ivy from the week-long canoeing trip I have just recently returned from. I have alternately been tanned/burnt by the most glorious weather, and become borderline hypothermic from cold rain. It will be a week I will remember for some time to come.




I've lately become obsessed with Neil Gaiman's The Sandman series (among others of Gaiman's works, for any of which makes me lust after the writer). The Dartmouth Bookstore has volumes 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9, and 10. I have read up to 5, and started 7 today, out of impatience waiting for the 6th to appear. I may have to make a trip to a larger bookstore soon to find number 6.

I love the styles of each graphic novel, which are illustrated by a number of artists and letterers. How cool is that? To have a career in lettering? My mind reels at the idea.