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urbanamazonI just had the most morbid dinner of the year. I walk into the kitchen, and calmly say, "There is a dead creature on my plate." A _whole_ dead creature. A lobster. The owner of the salon that my mom and I work at gave us lobsters for Mother's Day. (o.O?)
Eight of them.
It's been years since I've had lobster. It was like dissecting a frog, only with armour. Those things are built like robots. Morbidly fascinating.
*cracks wrists and neck* Now, onto the real point of this entry. Beware, a doozie approaches.
Yesterday sucked. I woke up late, missed breakfast, dozed of in Calculus again, and was feeling really crappy when I got to work at 3:05. Work was insane, hardly giving me time to sit down. Mom wasn't there to give me bit of a break, and some of the chemicals there give me a really sore throat. I barely had a voice by the end of the day at eight.
Then Mom and Dad picked me up to take me down to the Tri-High Juried Art show opening at the college, even though I was very annoyed (read: pissed) at my art teacher for several things regarding that. I wasn't able to enter the piece I wanted, and others were turned away completely as some students entered more than one piece.
One the drive downtown, I noticed an envelope on the dash. From ACAD. I had been waiting for a response from them regarding the judging of the art exhibition for weeks. Feeling that this would lift my spirits, I opened it. I only had to read one word.
'Unfortunately'.
I didn't read the rest. I put the letter back in the envelope and set it aside. Mom and Dad were concerned and sympathetic. I outwardly shrugged it off. Inside, I was crushed. I had been hyped about this since the beginning of the school year. I had gone through so much panic in trying to get everything in on time. I had whooped when my counsellor told me that I had been accepted. I had hand-delivered my professionally framed picture to the college in order for them to judge it. In the end, though, effort doesn't matter, only result.
Reminds me of Death of a Salesman. I don't like that play.
When I got to the art show, I was immediately met by one of the instructors that I had met previously, wanting to know if I had made my decision on where I was going after graduation. I stalled. I still hadn't made up my mind, and didn't really want to talk about it right then.
Then, I was walking around the gallery, looking at all of the other works, and kept saying to myself, "Who am I kidding? I don't even have a chance." My entry was a simple charcoal drawing of a movie screenshot that I whipped up in an hour. Others were massive paintings almost as tall as I was, or sculpture with philosophical meaning. I wasn't in the same class as these artists.
I don't have political or spiritual things to say with my art. I can't spend days on painting an inanimate object and have people think I'm a genius. I don't see things in wild multicolor or sculpt in four different dimensions. I'm an illustrator. I draw stories, not revolutions. I draw characters, not subjects. I draw situations, not visual noise. I can't compete with these things if that's what they're looking for. I can't change the way I want to express myself. In this kind of environment, I don't stand a chance.
All of the judging is being done by people's choice this year. Over a half dozen awards sliced down to four. I can't impress anyone on technical composition or balance. My picture doesn't make anyone glance and say, "Oooh, now _that's_ art." I couldn't take it and walked out.
I spent half an hour pacing the hallways and the entryway, trying to keep the tears back, and doing quite a half-assed job at it, if I do say so myself. I wanted to be anywhere but there.
You know that it's exactly eleven paces from the doors of the college to the wall of the entryway cove?
When my parents finally came out of the gallery to head home, the mask was back. It was back with hardly any effort. And I hated it. It disgusted me that it was so easy to act cheerful, to smile and shove the tears away for a while. I don't think they even knew I had been crying.
Went and got Chinese take-out. Rented Akira Special Edition DVD. I was in a subconciously destructive mood. Had to stop it halfway through because I had to work in the morning. Part of me coudn't stop thinking about that one scene with Tetsuo, where he lashes out at the guards and just liquefies them with a thought. If I ever got mad enough, would I do that? I mean, if I could? Would I just kill blindly? When I get in bad moods, yes, I do feel like taking it out in a violent way, but I rarely do. I draw, I write, I meditate it out, but that doesn't excuse the fact that I initally want to beat something, tear something, smash something, or feel something shatter under my will. The only reason that I don't is because there's really nothing I can take it out on without causing irrereperable damage that I would regret, or damage to myself that I would regret even more.
I was able to talk to James, and that helped. Helped me get to sleep without any more bad thoughts.
My subconcious had other plans.
You know what's the worst thing to dream about? Pity. The sterile politeness that everyone thinks will soften the hard truth instead of magnifying it. In my dreams, that one word haunted me, turning me against myself as it came from everyone I knew.
"Unfortunately ....." "Unfortunately ....."
In my nightmare, I was a disappointment, a failure, a disgrace.
I woke up crying, soon escalating into a massive sobbing fit.
You were right, James. I needed to get my depression out. There's no excuse for trying to hide it beneath so many layers and saying you'll deal with it later. I stayed in a curled up ball of pyjamas and flannel blanket and pillows and teddy bear for a good half hour, letting it all out.
I needed a hug, but I was scared to accept one for fear of feeling pitied.
I ended up being over two hours late for work, but didn't get in very much trouble for it. Mom explained that i had received some bad news and needed a little time to be presentable. To get the mask back. I took my time, taking a hot shower and drinking some cider (sorry, but tea might've got me crying again). It was good to be alone for a while, to walk to work. I listened to my Gackt CD as loud as it could go, and it got my back to feeling like myself again. I didn't need the mask as much.
The wind smelled like rain. Like promise.
Walking to work, I realized that despite all the obstacles that might slap me in the face, I can't change who I am or what I do, and that's a good thing. I can learn to roll, but I'll have to roll forward and keep walking. I'm still disappointed with the news from ACAD, and I don't think that I'm going to win anything at the art show (How can they call it a Juried art show if there's no jury?), but I'm living with it. I still have four scholarships under my belt, and I still might get accepted into ACAD with my portfolio. I'm getting there.
'Yuuhi ga mata shizumu
jounestu wo daita mama
hitoshirezu nemuritzuku
setsunakutemo ... zutto.'
'kumo wa kono mama doko e yuku no darou
hakkari shirenai ishi ga hatarite mo
aoi sora ni wa, aoi jiyuu ga aru
shiroi kumo ni wa, shiroi nozomi ga aru'
I wonder where the cloud is going now?
Guided by an unknown force...
In the blue sky, lies blue freedom.
In the white clouds, lies a white wish.
And it even rained today.
And then there was lobser. Yes, I said lobser on purpose. SO there. :p
Eight of them.
It's been years since I've had lobster. It was like dissecting a frog, only with armour. Those things are built like robots. Morbidly fascinating.
*cracks wrists and neck* Now, onto the real point of this entry. Beware, a doozie approaches.
Yesterday sucked. I woke up late, missed breakfast, dozed of in Calculus again, and was feeling really crappy when I got to work at 3:05. Work was insane, hardly giving me time to sit down. Mom wasn't there to give me bit of a break, and some of the chemicals there give me a really sore throat. I barely had a voice by the end of the day at eight.
Then Mom and Dad picked me up to take me down to the Tri-High Juried Art show opening at the college, even though I was very annoyed (read: pissed) at my art teacher for several things regarding that. I wasn't able to enter the piece I wanted, and others were turned away completely as some students entered more than one piece.
One the drive downtown, I noticed an envelope on the dash. From ACAD. I had been waiting for a response from them regarding the judging of the art exhibition for weeks. Feeling that this would lift my spirits, I opened it. I only had to read one word.
'Unfortunately'.
I didn't read the rest. I put the letter back in the envelope and set it aside. Mom and Dad were concerned and sympathetic. I outwardly shrugged it off. Inside, I was crushed. I had been hyped about this since the beginning of the school year. I had gone through so much panic in trying to get everything in on time. I had whooped when my counsellor told me that I had been accepted. I had hand-delivered my professionally framed picture to the college in order for them to judge it. In the end, though, effort doesn't matter, only result.
Reminds me of Death of a Salesman. I don't like that play.
When I got to the art show, I was immediately met by one of the instructors that I had met previously, wanting to know if I had made my decision on where I was going after graduation. I stalled. I still hadn't made up my mind, and didn't really want to talk about it right then.
Then, I was walking around the gallery, looking at all of the other works, and kept saying to myself, "Who am I kidding? I don't even have a chance." My entry was a simple charcoal drawing of a movie screenshot that I whipped up in an hour. Others were massive paintings almost as tall as I was, or sculpture with philosophical meaning. I wasn't in the same class as these artists.
I don't have political or spiritual things to say with my art. I can't spend days on painting an inanimate object and have people think I'm a genius. I don't see things in wild multicolor or sculpt in four different dimensions. I'm an illustrator. I draw stories, not revolutions. I draw characters, not subjects. I draw situations, not visual noise. I can't compete with these things if that's what they're looking for. I can't change the way I want to express myself. In this kind of environment, I don't stand a chance.
All of the judging is being done by people's choice this year. Over a half dozen awards sliced down to four. I can't impress anyone on technical composition or balance. My picture doesn't make anyone glance and say, "Oooh, now _that's_ art." I couldn't take it and walked out.
I spent half an hour pacing the hallways and the entryway, trying to keep the tears back, and doing quite a half-assed job at it, if I do say so myself. I wanted to be anywhere but there.
You know that it's exactly eleven paces from the doors of the college to the wall of the entryway cove?
When my parents finally came out of the gallery to head home, the mask was back. It was back with hardly any effort. And I hated it. It disgusted me that it was so easy to act cheerful, to smile and shove the tears away for a while. I don't think they even knew I had been crying.
Went and got Chinese take-out. Rented Akira Special Edition DVD. I was in a subconciously destructive mood. Had to stop it halfway through because I had to work in the morning. Part of me coudn't stop thinking about that one scene with Tetsuo, where he lashes out at the guards and just liquefies them with a thought. If I ever got mad enough, would I do that? I mean, if I could? Would I just kill blindly? When I get in bad moods, yes, I do feel like taking it out in a violent way, but I rarely do. I draw, I write, I meditate it out, but that doesn't excuse the fact that I initally want to beat something, tear something, smash something, or feel something shatter under my will. The only reason that I don't is because there's really nothing I can take it out on without causing irrereperable damage that I would regret, or damage to myself that I would regret even more.
I was able to talk to James, and that helped. Helped me get to sleep without any more bad thoughts.
My subconcious had other plans.
You know what's the worst thing to dream about? Pity. The sterile politeness that everyone thinks will soften the hard truth instead of magnifying it. In my dreams, that one word haunted me, turning me against myself as it came from everyone I knew.
"Unfortunately ....." "Unfortunately ....."
In my nightmare, I was a disappointment, a failure, a disgrace.
I woke up crying, soon escalating into a massive sobbing fit.
You were right, James. I needed to get my depression out. There's no excuse for trying to hide it beneath so many layers and saying you'll deal with it later. I stayed in a curled up ball of pyjamas and flannel blanket and pillows and teddy bear for a good half hour, letting it all out.
I needed a hug, but I was scared to accept one for fear of feeling pitied.
I ended up being over two hours late for work, but didn't get in very much trouble for it. Mom explained that i had received some bad news and needed a little time to be presentable. To get the mask back. I took my time, taking a hot shower and drinking some cider (sorry, but tea might've got me crying again). It was good to be alone for a while, to walk to work. I listened to my Gackt CD as loud as it could go, and it got my back to feeling like myself again. I didn't need the mask as much.
The wind smelled like rain. Like promise.
Walking to work, I realized that despite all the obstacles that might slap me in the face, I can't change who I am or what I do, and that's a good thing. I can learn to roll, but I'll have to roll forward and keep walking. I'm still disappointed with the news from ACAD, and I don't think that I'm going to win anything at the art show (How can they call it a Juried art show if there's no jury?), but I'm living with it. I still have four scholarships under my belt, and I still might get accepted into ACAD with my portfolio. I'm getting there.
'Yuuhi ga mata shizumu
jounestu wo daita mama
hitoshirezu nemuritzuku
setsunakutemo ... zutto.'
'kumo wa kono mama doko e yuku no darou
hakkari shirenai ishi ga hatarite mo
aoi sora ni wa, aoi jiyuu ga aru
shiroi kumo ni wa, shiroi nozomi ga aru'
I wonder where the cloud is going now?
Guided by an unknown force...
In the blue sky, lies blue freedom.
In the white clouds, lies a white wish.
And it even rained today.
And then there was lobser. Yes, I said lobser on purpose. SO there. :p
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..Damn.
Date: 2002-05-12 08:55 am (UTC)We should go for a walk or something today. Otherwise I won't have left the house all day.. O.o