(no subject)
sometimes i feel like my only purpose on this earth is to be here for other people. send me your needy, your wounded, your damaged, and i will greet them with open arms. i'm not complaining, because i love listening to and taking care of people, but of course, sometimes things get overwhelming and you don't know what to do because your little body can only take so much. so you crumble.
cut to me wanting to drop out of northeastern.
i love my friends here with all of my heart, and i love this school and all that it has to offer, but it's not for me. i need to be an art student at an art school. granted, i dont have a portfolio. but i will make one. i will do everything in my power to manifest my being into canvas and paper and all sorts of media. the corporate world is not for me. being checked into boxes and pushed into cubicles will not be the life i'm reduced to. i want to write. i have so much inspiration and so much creativity up here, sometimes i dont know what to do with myself. i feel like i've been thrown into this cultural mecca and am letting it all go to waste. if what my life boils down to is, having a degree in art, and working as a waitress in a greasy diner while i peddle my art on street corners, so be it. i need to immerse myself completely and let the creativity flow from me. i want to play an instrument and master it, because i feel like music could be such an outlet for me. i need to live the poor bohemian lifestyle that will ultimately satisfy me more than anything, even if i dont profit from it. of course these thoughts are irrational, because i know you need money to make the world go round. but fuck that. i want happiness. i want to paint shitty pictures and photograph things and knit things and write beautiful stories. and i will. you just watch.
i have a long paper to write. i have classes at 8 a.m. i'm terribly sick. my heart tingles for someone, but that plays second to my arts right now. i'm glad i have that distraction.
and thank something that my brother is coming up this weekend. i've missed the little bug.
cut to me wanting to drop out of northeastern.
i love my friends here with all of my heart, and i love this school and all that it has to offer, but it's not for me. i need to be an art student at an art school. granted, i dont have a portfolio. but i will make one. i will do everything in my power to manifest my being into canvas and paper and all sorts of media. the corporate world is not for me. being checked into boxes and pushed into cubicles will not be the life i'm reduced to. i want to write. i have so much inspiration and so much creativity up here, sometimes i dont know what to do with myself. i feel like i've been thrown into this cultural mecca and am letting it all go to waste. if what my life boils down to is, having a degree in art, and working as a waitress in a greasy diner while i peddle my art on street corners, so be it. i need to immerse myself completely and let the creativity flow from me. i want to play an instrument and master it, because i feel like music could be such an outlet for me. i need to live the poor bohemian lifestyle that will ultimately satisfy me more than anything, even if i dont profit from it. of course these thoughts are irrational, because i know you need money to make the world go round. but fuck that. i want happiness. i want to paint shitty pictures and photograph things and knit things and write beautiful stories. and i will. you just watch.
i have a long paper to write. i have classes at 8 a.m. i'm terribly sick. my heart tingles for someone, but that plays second to my arts right now. i'm glad i have that distraction.
and thank something that my brother is coming up this weekend. i've missed the little bug.