tapping the vain
Went to the ICA last night because Thursday nights it's free. Jason and I were supposed to meet people from our improv group there, but I'm guessing because of the rain no one else showed up.
I wish I was a visual artist. I felt inspired by the paintings and photographs, but I don't know how to articulate that energy. I can see what I would like to create but my talent in physical construction is non-existent. My stick figures are even lackluster.
I want to write more. I want to unlock the gate and have the words gnaw away at my insides until I'm able to let them out. I want to feel creative again.
This is very difficult when I spend almost forty hours a week doing homework/studying and then another 13 hours actually sitting in class. I guess I should be willing to sacrifice sleep for my art, but it's very difficult not to pass out after reading 18th century British Literature for three hours...
Everyone is sick of hearing my excuses, my complaints about being consumed by college. I seriously need someone to shoot me with a staple gun whenever I start to whine. (At the very least, it would give me a split second of much needed, but as of late not received, pleasure.)
Have you ever tried to surprise someone and just when you were about to do the big reveal they said something so unbelievably contrary to your intentions that you could actually feel the shards of your plan raining down on both of you? (Did I mention how much I worship run-on sentences?)
What I could really use right now is to receive just one call for an interview from one of the ten companies I sent my resume to. I won't really start freaking out until Thanksgiving, because I CANT go on no-op in the Spring-- it would prevent me from studying abroad as planned in the Fall, but honestly it's a bit odd that I've had to bites on this rather attractive and talented fishing pole. My coordinator is quote "astounded" that I haven't been on any interviews, so that's not doing anything for my self-esteem either.
In other news, it sounds like the fire alarm in the building behind mine is going off. Not quite sure what the appropriate response is. Guess when I hear sirens I should skedaddle. I suppose it's bad that my first instinct now whenever something even a little out of the ordinary happens is to go on facebook and check updates status reports.
Also, I've determined that instead of people venting through their away messages like in the good old days, the facebook status has now become the perfect place to create a cryptic snippet of how you're feeling or what inane thought just won't stop shanking your frontal lobe.
Oh shank. How I miss thee.
nikki
I wish I was a visual artist. I felt inspired by the paintings and photographs, but I don't know how to articulate that energy. I can see what I would like to create but my talent in physical construction is non-existent. My stick figures are even lackluster.
I want to write more. I want to unlock the gate and have the words gnaw away at my insides until I'm able to let them out. I want to feel creative again.
This is very difficult when I spend almost forty hours a week doing homework/studying and then another 13 hours actually sitting in class. I guess I should be willing to sacrifice sleep for my art, but it's very difficult not to pass out after reading 18th century British Literature for three hours...
Everyone is sick of hearing my excuses, my complaints about being consumed by college. I seriously need someone to shoot me with a staple gun whenever I start to whine. (At the very least, it would give me a split second of much needed, but as of late not received, pleasure.)
Have you ever tried to surprise someone and just when you were about to do the big reveal they said something so unbelievably contrary to your intentions that you could actually feel the shards of your plan raining down on both of you? (Did I mention how much I worship run-on sentences?)
What I could really use right now is to receive just one call for an interview from one of the ten companies I sent my resume to. I won't really start freaking out until Thanksgiving, because I CANT go on no-op in the Spring-- it would prevent me from studying abroad as planned in the Fall, but honestly it's a bit odd that I've had to bites on this rather attractive and talented fishing pole. My coordinator is quote "astounded" that I haven't been on any interviews, so that's not doing anything for my self-esteem either.
In other news, it sounds like the fire alarm in the building behind mine is going off. Not quite sure what the appropriate response is. Guess when I hear sirens I should skedaddle. I suppose it's bad that my first instinct now whenever something even a little out of the ordinary happens is to go on facebook and check updates status reports.
Also, I've determined that instead of people venting through their away messages like in the good old days, the facebook status has now become the perfect place to create a cryptic snippet of how you're feeling or what inane thought just won't stop shanking your frontal lobe.
Oh shank. How I miss thee.
nikki