I know I posted a blog not even an hour ago, but I like this photo so much. I took it in the Met in April or something. I was just rushing through so I don't even remember any details about it, but I love it. I took it with a crappy camera that makes everything look slightly to the left. This was advantageous in this case, methinks. The lighting is beautiful. Well, the shadows, really. I love it. It reminds me of Oedipus, but I don't know why. Really, it would be more of a Odysseus or someone more "heroic." I like Oedipus. He really was a good guy. He didn't know that he married his mom. He didn't know that he killed his dad. The only thing I don't like about him is that he bosses Theseus around too much. Where does he get the right? But still, he is a poor guy. I pity him. Oh man, look at that lower lip. It's great. The shadows around it are great.
There's this sketch in pencil of my father in my living room, and I absolutely hate it. One half of his face is alive, he looks like he did when I was ten. But the other half is just withered. No one else sees it. But I can't even look at the stupid sketch for too long because it makes me cry. Just a stupid sketch. That makes me so angry, that pencil on paper that looks like my dad makes me cry! It just looks so distorted. Isn't it ironic that my stepmom paid someone else to make it?