Maybe I'm not as influenced as I ought to be for the task, but I did the best I could with the materials art hand.

That's a typo, but it's a good typo, so I'm not fixing it. Ever. It can stand for the ages.

I had a beer, delicious and classy Yuengling Lager stolen from my parents' stash the way I used to in middle/high school when I'd be too wired to sleep and sick of it. That's not the case now. I haven't had a real bout of insomnia since I was about sixteen. It wasn't severe even then; I'd get some sleep, just not enough.

Nostalgia.

It took real effort for me to stay up past midnight tonight, but I did it. Tiredness is an influence. It affects one's thinking. I keep trying to drift off. And I'm one, maybe two days away from getting my period. That's an influence, too. I have friends who get such bad cramps they can hardly stand. I don't get that. I just get really cranky and maudlin. REALLY maudlin. it's a good idea not to let me near sharp objects or sad music.

Alcohol. One beer is not enough to make me truly drunk, but it is enough to have a perceptible effect on my thought processes. The strange thing is, after a moderate amount of alcohol I behave more "normally" than I would sober. My thoughts don't race, but they're probably less "disorganized". (I think most of the warp here is really from staying up half the night on about five hours' sleep the previous night, not the lager. That may not sound like a big deal to you, but I can get really messed up if I don't get my full eight hours.) It's not what one would expect. I think it might be becausse I'm mildly autistic. Booze is a depressant. It numbs my sensory hypersensitivity and social anxiety. Theerefore I become more outgoing and less high-strung and less prone to freaking out over minor things. That's my theory anyway.

It makes me a bit worse at typing, too. I can go slow, slow, slooooooooooooooow at maybe thirety words per minute or I can type at my normal speed and suddenly typos are all over. And words go kind of strange. Normally I have a knack for spelling. Occasionally I'll mis-write a word, but it's very rare and I can always tell if a word I'm familiar with is spelled wrong. A spelled-wrong word makes me feel queasy inside. I get false positives when I'm even just a little tipsy or stoned, though. Scientist looks wrong to me now, even though I know it's not. Material looks wrong.

And I did a song for my influenced art. I don't know why I'd pick the mode of artistic expression in which I'm least proficientt. Humor? I didn't plan it out, even. Just turned on the recorder and zooooooooooooooooooooooom away we goooooooooo!!

Winter is an influence, too. Winter makes me feel like I'm stuck in a box. Sometimes the snow is pretty, but I'm still in here. I'm still in the house I grew up in and I don't get out all that much these days and while I'm young enough that it's not particularly strange or embarrassing to still live with my parents, I'm old enough that I can want to get out. And I don't know what I want to do when I grow up, and once the winter is over I'll be almost Not A Teenager anymore and then I'll have to pick something to do and be as an autonomous adult and that's sort of scary. I'm not actually capable of much.

But I wrote a sob. Song. And I don't think it's that bad, though I might think different next time I revisit this praxis, when it's daylight and I'm completely sober and hormonally stable and well-rested.

And that's all.