The Second Floor Window

For those of you who haven't met me and those of you who haven't read my past blog, please allow me to say hello, and welcome to the grammatical mess that is me. 

Sunrise at the top of Poon Hill on my trek around Annapurna, February 2015

​My Name is Angela. I live on the second floor of an historic apartment building in downtown Indianapolis. The actual view out of my window is full of locust trees, squirrels, and very old houses that rich people have bought up to restore. It's a pleasing view most of the time.

I've been back in the United States a little over a year now, and a lot has happened. I moved out of my parent's house in August of 2015, I adopted a cat in October; her name is Athena, and I've been making art as much as I possibly can. 

If you read my "about me" page, which I wrote in third person (sorry to break the illusion), then you know a lot of my artwork is inspired by my travel experience. If art is my first love, travel is my little piece on the side. I spent 7.5 months in Australia, New Zealand, and Nepal last year. This year I have travel plans to visit London, and (if I'm lucky) take a cruise through the Mediterranean. 

I'm starting to realize that the older I get and the more responsible I am, the less travel I'm able to do. 

I've read all of the travel blogs; I know that, "You can travel! You just have to make it a priority, blah blah blah," and I can back that statement up as being completely true. However, I've also come to realize that while I can save up for these big trips, I can't just drop everything and fly away whenever I want anymore. I have a cat. I have a job that depends on me. I have a lease. My future trips will have to be limited to shorter durations.

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It's a bit disappointing, but in the end, it affords me more time to focus on what I love: creating. 
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So here I am, staring out of my second floor window, lukewarm coffee in hand, inviting you to follow my little story. It's the compelling story of a girl who constantly misplaces her keys; It's the charming tale of a girl who just can't commit to regular exercise, and hates herself for it. Finally, it is the story behind the art, a blockbuster waiting to happen, a caterpillar waiting to burst free as a magnificent butterfly (please not a moth, anything but a moth)! 

Let me show you the view from my window. 

With love,

Angela

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