Finally worked on some art

My life is turned upside down. I am back to school and apparently no easier to work with than last year (or maybe that is just how it feels). My apartment is filled with mysterious papers from my dad's files. I am trying to piece together what he did to end up where he did. It seems he saved everything he ever had in his entire life or at least the cord for it. Cords and wires wrapped up in duct tape. Attempts at an effective filing system, abandoned for handy spots to put things, and everywhere amongst bank statements, ideas for writing, phone numbers, or receipts, a few photos were randomly inserted: me, puppet shows, Tim's memorial, his southern girlfriend, contact sheets of his head shots. It is so sad that he could not just behave himself. I feel that way. I just need to exercise some self-control, some discipline but ... I read about organizational strategies, know that I need sleep for my brain to heal, should not buy any more small bags for sorting things, and yet chaos reigns supreme! No I will not give to being a grown-up. Set limits for myself? Bah! But my dad, oh me, oh my, the floor sweeping robot machines are kind of cool. He fell for some stupid, fake debt consolidator company pretending to be a trust that would help him but just took his money. He did not eat the way the doctors told him to for his diabetes. He did not fill his scrips for lancets and he had a blood glucose kit that was a year old that looks totally unused. I have to go to bed. I will take a picture of my art tomorrow. I think I might call the piece "In his footsteps."