Ass-backwards

It's been a month since I've written anything, and yeah, I guess one could say a lot has happened. But not much has really happened. At least nothing worth documenting. I was going to attempt to eat what I had concocted for breakfast, but it appears to be boiling-lava-hot, so I thought I'd blog instead.

I was doing my immensely large pile of dishes earlier this morning(it was immense, no exaggeration, I didn't have any bowls left.) and I kept doubting myself in my currant situation. Am I really supposed to be here? I know ones foundation year at an art school is usually the least creative, but I didn't know I would feel less creative. I finished all my art related homework yesterday, and decided to make a collage in the evening. It was fun, but now that I look at it, the pieces are pealing up, and it kinda looks like crap. And although I'm lacking for inspiration in the drawing department, my mind is still coming up with stories.

I'm wondering if I'm doing this all ass-backwards, that maybe I should be pursuing English with some sort of art/illustration minor. But that's not a option here at art school. The problem is, that most of my creativity, art wise, comes from the stories I make up, but what I've learned, from the past, is that when I come up with a story, begin to write it down, and then go and draw the characters, or whatever, it sometimes kills the story for me.

I've just had an epiphany, just now as I shoved oatmeal into my mouth. I was going to talk about the dream I had last night. It was odd, as per usual. The part I mostly remember was when I decided to go back to my high school with some friends to visit our teachers. It was obviously right after college classes were done for the summer, because the high school was still in section. Lydia was there, though I'm not sure why because she didn't go to my high school. But after talking with some kids in the hallway I went straight for the art room, because it was my art teacher who I wanted to see first. I caught her from behind and hugged her, and she seemed not so interested, but wanted to show me the new art room. She was going on about how they had hired some woman to paint it, but she didn't use the right colors, or whatever, but as she was going on about this, it wasn't the bright blue and white that caught my eye first it was that room was full of books. It was like a labyrinth of book shelves and there were students in there but they weren't making art, but putting books on shelves, and organizing. I still saw art on the walls, but the room was mostly books. I felt kind of sad, I mean, the school has a nice library, why turn the art room into one?

I think that means something.

It's been a long time since I've had to write anything creative for school. Junior year I wrote a poem, and that was the first time since junior high. I remember there was a woman, Ms. Brown, who took over my 6th grade class after our other teacher had a heart attack, and she had us make a book of poetry. She told me I had a gift for it. My junior high english teacher was pretty fond of my poetry too. But I've never written a story for a class before. I had been enrolled in the creative writing class my senior year, but dropped it so I could switch my math class to a different period. I regret that. I should have never taken math.

I don't know where I'm going with this, and my tea is getting cold, but I feel kind of trapped. I had prepared myself to dislike my school, even prepared myself to want to transfer right away, but when I got here I loved it so much. Now I don't know. I feel like maybe I'm missing out. I'm paying for classes I don't have interest in, that are of little use to me. My English class is a joke, and my math class will never come in handy because I've learned all of what he is teaching. What if I'm missing opportunities? What if all this time spent painting squares never comes into play because I go and pursue something else.

I know where I want to end up at the end of all this, I just don't know how to get there. I'm sure that's true for everyone, but I hate realizing after so long, that maybe what I wanted, and what I'm after, isn't going to make me happy.

The truth is here.

Another reason I haven't been blogging, other than lack of time I mean, is that I spend more time on Tumblr. Also, my friends and I have started our collab channel.