So, this is one of those paintings where I didn't really know where I was going. I was just putting down paint, and this is what the picture turned out to be.

I find it odd though. In another painting, also where I wasn't going with a plan, it turned out something like this, but the opposite. And the same shoes are there.

But where this one is almost calming, and radiates, the other is harsh, and angry looking.

And I begin to wonder if when I'm not really thinking about something, if a bit of me comes out through my hands, and splashes on to the canvas. Because, when I did the first one, with the anger in the strokes, I was very angry at life, but didn't really know it.

Ach, that doesn't make sense. I've basically got a bad rotary cuff on my drawing arm. And it's been bothering me badly for the past year. And I knew that I was frustrated because the doctors can't figure out what is exactly wrong with it. And with not being able to fix it, I've had to adjust my life around it. I can't paint a canvas on an easel. I can't throw a ball. I can't play softball ever again. And that's a real kicker, because I've played all but the first five years of my life. Heck, I have trouble putting on a coat, or zipping a dress. And I was just so angry with God for taking this part of my life away. But somehow, I didn't know that I was at the time. I'm not exactly in tune with myself most of the time. But the anger came out in that painting.

And the painting showed here was painted after I actually realized that I was angry. I excepted it, but I also let it go, realizing that I don't have to be angry because I don't understand. And I let God take the anger from me.

And this just turned into a huge long explanation. _XD