This is the headline for my December. It’s the 14th precipitation streams down from the sky, collecting in rivulets down the streaked windowpanes. Unfortunately, it’s not snow but a cold and dreary rain. It makes me sleepy, and more of a homebody that I would normally be. No longer do I have the days of screeching to a half while biking by Lake of the Isles to lay in the grass with a good book. I’m waiting for snow. I’m waiting for something to play in again. Here in my big apartment filled with few people, I’ve been trying to appreciate the boredom. I’ve been working on finishing an art journal that I started in my class at Articulture. I have 6 pages to go, with over twenty already filled. This is an autobiography and storytelling piece. A lot of it deals with being a woman, growing up, and trying to find my place in a new city. I’ve keep story lines and narratives for each the pages with me, and all pages invite the viewer’s unique interpretation. I hope each person who is curious enough to peruse my journal can take a different piece of it with them. Enjoy some close ups of the pages below and the cute faces of my journaling help.