& i'm not.
tomorrow morning, i'll be meeting my mom in Easton with a carload of stuff. because of housing situation that i couldn't resolve in time, i don't have a place in the NYC area as of 5/1. because of a portfolio that wasn't quite where it needed to be, i don't have a school to attend as of today. at least, by the grace of God, i have a place that i can safely land, with a roof over my head, with people & pets who love me, where i can figure out what to do next.
if it sounds like i'm going to start playing Pollyanna & puking rainbows, please. don't be mistaken. my eyes tear up with every letter, & it feels like a golf ball is forming in my larynx. i am not thrilled. i am not jumping up & down. i am not about to say that God willed it to be this way, so it must be okay, all i have to do is pluck the hell up, be more faithful, blah blah blah. i sincerely hope nobody's going to throw such unfeeling sanctimony in my face because i'll throw it right back. with a brick.
*& if that sounds harsh, i do know people who would/will say it to me. i don't believe for a second that God wishes us heartache & heartbreak. but now is not the time for vehement arguments concerning Calvinist doctrines, etc. i am severely not in the mood.
anyway.
the news that SVA had denied my admission came in a rather unexpected form this afternoon, via email. it was such an intangible no, & i was refused the pleasure of tearing it apart or burning it in the sink or putting it through the shredder. physical destruction of the decision would have entailed catastrophic injury to my iPhone. sorry. the cover i designed is far too awesome for it to be mutilated.
so i did one of the things i do best, which is cry some more, & i reached out to the people i love deeply. the first message was, ironically, an email, & it was remembrance of a wise reminder. about two months ago, i'd been told that i didn't need a school or anyone else to tell me that i am a writer or an artist. there are fewer words for which i am more grateful. they are what came to mind after i'd closed SVA's gentle "let's just be friends," & they allowed me to take a deep breath, shed a silent tear, & understand that i can still write, draw, paint, photograph, whatever. whatever i want to do. i just need to do it.
confession--i didn't believe those words when i first heard them. maybe it had to do with the crowded bar & the million other swirling thoughts that were refusing to cede ground. but really, i don't think i even understood the bold truth was simply handed to me. i'd always been of the opinion that, to be anything, other people have to see you be it, & they have to accept you, even label you, as be-ing it... didn't they? i blush to say that i probably just brushed the offered sentiment aside, making room for weightier matters that Had To Be Decided IMMEDIATELY. that night, i was such a foolish girl, on so many counts. i'm sorry.
this afternoon, though. i finally got it. if it hadn't been for this rejection (took me a minute to type that), i'm not sure i would grasp it at all. & the best part, the most annoyingly fucking useful great part, of the whole situation is that because of the words & the rejection, i finally know what i want to do. two things, actually:
a) punch the email in its binary face,
&
b) keep going.
i was able to keep myself together long enough to paint tonight. the result is a semi-self-portrait, & in it, the woman is completely naked. her skin is dark & mottled, her body curvy & angular. she is an exercise in lack of proportion. she faces away from the viewer but turns her gaze back, speared by two blue-green eyes. why do you look? why does her space have to belong to another? why do you even expect to share it? why are there expectations at all? she is who she is, & fuck whatever else. don't test.
i'm not in the mood for garbage like "whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger," or "no pain, no gain;" pat answers such as these do not meet a saddened person in the moment, where he or she is. at best, they amount to a lack of ideas on how to help (which is understandable), or, at worst, a lack of commitment to help a person through his or her pain (which totally sucks & should be cause for such sayers to go live under a rock so as to avoid causing the innocent further anguish). & seriously, i will go batshit crazy on anyone who tries to force-feed me a fucking platitude. trust me. i've got my big-girl pants on. i can handle this without any asshattery in floral disguise.
well. now that i have the swears out of my system. [*takes a big, deep breath, exhales.*]
this isn't what i'd planned, not in the slightest. i'm not happy that my road has taken such a sudden & unpleasantly sharp turn. i don't know what to do next, not beyond taking some time to regroup. tears form as i remember that, next week, i won't be walking along west broadway to get to classes at the martial arts academy. i won't get to laugh at the "amish market" two blocks from the WTC PATH station. i won't have to fight the temptation to mosey over to Vosges for chocolate that's both awesome & sexy. i won't photograph the seeming millions of tulips bursting open all over the city. nope, none of that. not for a little while, anyway.
but i will come back, as soon as possible, because i understand the truth--i am a writer, i am an artist, & this is where i want to be.
tomorrow morning, i'll be meeting my mom in Easton with a carload of stuff. because of housing situation that i couldn't resolve in time, i don't have a place in the NYC area as of 5/1. because of a portfolio that wasn't quite where it needed to be, i don't have a school to attend as of today. at least, by the grace of God, i have a place that i can safely land, with a roof over my head, with people & pets who love me, where i can figure out what to do next.
if it sounds like i'm going to start playing Pollyanna & puking rainbows, please. don't be mistaken. my eyes tear up with every letter, & it feels like a golf ball is forming in my larynx. i am not thrilled. i am not jumping up & down. i am not about to say that God willed it to be this way, so it must be okay, all i have to do is pluck the hell up, be more faithful, blah blah blah. i sincerely hope nobody's going to throw such unfeeling sanctimony in my face because i'll throw it right back. with a brick.
*& if that sounds harsh, i do know people who would/will say it to me. i don't believe for a second that God wishes us heartache & heartbreak. but now is not the time for vehement arguments concerning Calvinist doctrines, etc. i am severely not in the mood.
anyway.
the news that SVA had denied my admission came in a rather unexpected form this afternoon, via email. it was such an intangible no, & i was refused the pleasure of tearing it apart or burning it in the sink or putting it through the shredder. physical destruction of the decision would have entailed catastrophic injury to my iPhone. sorry. the cover i designed is far too awesome for it to be mutilated.
so i did one of the things i do best, which is cry some more, & i reached out to the people i love deeply. the first message was, ironically, an email, & it was remembrance of a wise reminder. about two months ago, i'd been told that i didn't need a school or anyone else to tell me that i am a writer or an artist. there are fewer words for which i am more grateful. they are what came to mind after i'd closed SVA's gentle "let's just be friends," & they allowed me to take a deep breath, shed a silent tear, & understand that i can still write, draw, paint, photograph, whatever. whatever i want to do. i just need to do it.
confession--i didn't believe those words when i first heard them. maybe it had to do with the crowded bar & the million other swirling thoughts that were refusing to cede ground. but really, i don't think i even understood the bold truth was simply handed to me. i'd always been of the opinion that, to be anything, other people have to see you be it, & they have to accept you, even label you, as be-ing it... didn't they? i blush to say that i probably just brushed the offered sentiment aside, making room for weightier matters that Had To Be Decided IMMEDIATELY. that night, i was such a foolish girl, on so many counts. i'm sorry.
this afternoon, though. i finally got it. if it hadn't been for this rejection (took me a minute to type that), i'm not sure i would grasp it at all. & the best part, the most annoyingly fucking useful great part, of the whole situation is that because of the words & the rejection, i finally know what i want to do. two things, actually:
a) punch the email in its binary face,
&
b) keep going.
i was able to keep myself together long enough to paint tonight. the result is a semi-self-portrait, & in it, the woman is completely naked. her skin is dark & mottled, her body curvy & angular. she is an exercise in lack of proportion. she faces away from the viewer but turns her gaze back, speared by two blue-green eyes. why do you look? why does her space have to belong to another? why do you even expect to share it? why are there expectations at all? she is who she is, & fuck whatever else. don't test.
i'm not in the mood for garbage like "whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger," or "no pain, no gain;" pat answers such as these do not meet a saddened person in the moment, where he or she is. at best, they amount to a lack of ideas on how to help (which is understandable), or, at worst, a lack of commitment to help a person through his or her pain (which totally sucks & should be cause for such sayers to go live under a rock so as to avoid causing the innocent further anguish). & seriously, i will go batshit crazy on anyone who tries to force-feed me a fucking platitude. trust me. i've got my big-girl pants on. i can handle this without any asshattery in floral disguise.
well. now that i have the swears out of my system. [*takes a big, deep breath, exhales.*]
this isn't what i'd planned, not in the slightest. i'm not happy that my road has taken such a sudden & unpleasantly sharp turn. i don't know what to do next, not beyond taking some time to regroup. tears form as i remember that, next week, i won't be walking along west broadway to get to classes at the martial arts academy. i won't get to laugh at the "amish market" two blocks from the WTC PATH station. i won't have to fight the temptation to mosey over to Vosges for chocolate that's both awesome & sexy. i won't photograph the seeming millions of tulips bursting open all over the city. nope, none of that. not for a little while, anyway.
but i will come back, as soon as possible, because i understand the truth--i am a writer, i am an artist, & this is where i want to be.
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