i can't sleep
I hate that my professional ambitions lie in subjective merit dependent (at this point) upon instructors who decide for themselves whether or not I'm doing all I can. There's obviously the impending doom of failure, which is in and of itself enough to cause a panic attack. Then, of course, there's the worth of my body of work to consider, which might as well be interpreted as my own worth. At least as far as I'm concerned.
And so I worry.
Say I were rejected, X number of times from X number of 'fine learning institutions.' I'd naturally reconsider my worth, and anyone who ever cared about me would say something to the effect of "Well, Ginni, they don't know you." (Or maybe they'd say "That's what you get for aiming for a career in a field that hasn't made any epic publicly-acknowledged advancements since the early 80's")
Right. They don't know anything about me. That's the point. My artistic endeavors should not need to be prefaced with an autobiography! They should not require a sampler of my personality to assure proper perception.
I'd love to break it wide open for everyone and strip all the dick-wiping fakers to their cores. There are so many of them, in so many varieties. I'm not really agitated enough, though. Their lack of substance is generally inconsequential to me, and if there's balance in the universe then these quandaries I'm experiencing are equal to their own personal battles with meaning and direction and trying to figure out why they don't have any. Maybe their proverbial brick wall is realizing that they can't respect themselves or their work if it's all smoke and mirrors.
Or maybe it just doesn't matter. Maybe total apathy is the next step.
Ignoring your problems does not work, Ginni! Neither does running away.
Some other state, some other city, some other school. That's the plan. What am I trying so desperately to get away from or get out to? What am I sacrificing years of debt to accomplish? I'm so fucking scared.
It goes so much further than "Ahhh, college!"
I have this ridiculous ultimatum in my head. It's either out-of-state conservatory or find someone who will put up with your bullshit and end up being a housewife. I don't want to be a housewife.
But I don't want to drown in a vat of self-satisfied douchebags, either.
I've experienced well enough of those in my life.
Haaaaa the sun is up.
And so I worry.
Say I were rejected, X number of times from X number of 'fine learning institutions.' I'd naturally reconsider my worth, and anyone who ever cared about me would say something to the effect of "Well, Ginni, they don't know you." (Or maybe they'd say "That's what you get for aiming for a career in a field that hasn't made any epic publicly-acknowledged advancements since the early 80's")
Right. They don't know anything about me. That's the point. My artistic endeavors should not need to be prefaced with an autobiography! They should not require a sampler of my personality to assure proper perception.
I'd love to break it wide open for everyone and strip all the dick-wiping fakers to their cores. There are so many of them, in so many varieties. I'm not really agitated enough, though. Their lack of substance is generally inconsequential to me, and if there's balance in the universe then these quandaries I'm experiencing are equal to their own personal battles with meaning and direction and trying to figure out why they don't have any. Maybe their proverbial brick wall is realizing that they can't respect themselves or their work if it's all smoke and mirrors.
Or maybe it just doesn't matter. Maybe total apathy is the next step.
Ignoring your problems does not work, Ginni! Neither does running away.
Some other state, some other city, some other school. That's the plan. What am I trying so desperately to get away from or get out to? What am I sacrificing years of debt to accomplish? I'm so fucking scared.
It goes so much further than "Ahhh, college!"
I have this ridiculous ultimatum in my head. It's either out-of-state conservatory or find someone who will put up with your bullshit and end up being a housewife. I don't want to be a housewife.
But I don't want to drown in a vat of self-satisfied douchebags, either.
I've experienced well enough of those in my life.
Haaaaa the sun is up.