open art surgery

4:09am: I think what I trully learned here at RISD is how intensely a little bit of loneliness can affect my entire mental and physical being.

It scares me how it was just loneliness and homesickness alone that made me trully malfunctional the last couple of days. I almost lost faith in my ability to make art, and lost sight of why I even made art in the first place. That state of loneliness fully convinced me that I was in a trap of endless work without an end. That this cycle of sleepless work would never end and I'd never feel the joy of being trully free and happy again.


But the thing is, when everybody came back from thanksgiving break and the halls filled with the warmth of voices and artistic people again, I cried a little and felt the joy sinking into my pores, slowly, and painfully, but it sunk in. And i'm happy.


When i was drawing today i realized I really did get better at observational drawing. Something that looked like it took 8 hours to make actually took me two and a half, and it was pretty accurate.

And I have friends who are willing to go out of their way to model for me. And people who support me. When I realize that there are people like that out there who so faithfully believe in my ability to make art, and my imagination, it's like a reassurance about why I make art. Why I stay up for 12 hours to express the voices of the crazy monsters, demons, and creatures, and over-arching joys and melancholies renched deep inside of me. Why it's 4 AM and I have studio in 4 hours and I'm still not sleeping.


I guess I will never know exactly why I make art, but sometimes I need a reassurance. sometimes I need people.


I think what I am most dearly sincerely afraid of, is loneliness.

10:29pm: faded miracles
"I waited for a bus to separate the both of us
And take me off far away from you"
-- elliott smith


it's like to the point that even my mom is sad that i can't be at home. i had a conversation with her and she really wanted me to be home and didn't think it would be this hard and i would be this burnt out. But whatever, just three more weeks and it'll be okay.

being on facebook and the internet only makes me miss home even more. i'm not really missing a particular person or friend anymore, i am missing the ENTIRETY of the word HOME. Its like to the point that I can't bring myself to work anymore. All I've been doing lately is becoming nocturnal. I'm playing pokemon on my DS, maybe because it sets me free into this escapist wonderful transient world where my only motive is to simply catch pokemon and win battles. It's so much simpler than the complex reality that i have which my emotions screw with all the time.

I've never actually tried yoga or meditation but I feel like it could calm me down.

I don't know how I'm going to pull my way through finals week. It guess the biggest motive is that it would be stupid to slack off because I've already poured my heart and body and existance into my work for the past few months and that if i slack off now, all that work would be in vain. also, it is embarassing to show up with bad work when everybody else is used to seeing good work from me, and i dont want to be the only one without her homework done. Do I physically want to do art? Am i so run-out of inspiration that the only thing that really drives me right now is fear of embarassment, and fear of bad grades? I feel like this feeling of entrapment will soon pass.

This is probably the loneliest I've been in very long time. I went shopping earlier, oh the brevity of retail therapy.... and I thought maybe I might actually be a bit depressed. But then I realized that I am in much more control of my life than I ever can realize. I can choose to be happy, maybe, if i decide that I won't let myself be sad and see the silverlinings and brighter side of everything.

Elliott smith just feels like the soundtrack of my life right now. No other music feels right. It has a beautiful droning quality, a beautiful loneliness about it, the kind of just consumes you and you learn to accept, and you don't want to see anybody else because sometimes it's just so beautiful and so perfect.

i lost a part of me in these endless nights spent art making, being so far away, looking adulthood and independance in the eye.

it was the child in me. it was the part of me that would see an unadulterated beauty in the universe, that would go on adventures and believe that the right song to the right drive with the right person beside you can change everything. it was the part of me that believed in miracles and love, and the simplicity in life.

Because now what I believe in is endless hard work, and maybe somewhere, sometime, after all of this, i'll end up where I'm going. wherever it is. in the art world. the film world.

if there is a beautiful coincidence that will bring me back to fragments of that nostalgic childhood, that happiness and feeling of freedom, however transient it may be, please happen to me....

1:54pm: a lonesome thanksgiving
i went to new york, the big dirty city and recieved a revelation.
i need to be in new york city someday and i need to let a city be a part my education. thats something i don't get in providence. it's only risd, and just risd, the thickest bubble called RISD.

I want to re-study chinese and study abroad in China.

and i'm spending my thanksgiving missing everything there is to miss about home. i wish i could go back. i realized how much it is exactly i sacrificed to go to this school, all for the sake of pursuing my monstrous passions. the more i think about it, the more i realize that as hard as the adapting is, i've made the right decision.

there are three people i know on campus. i hardly know anybody else.
the RAs are out of town.
there is no food.

we are going to a chinese church....

i am lonely and in my room listening to elliott smith thinking of how nice it would be to be back home. thinking of the family dinner that my parents and relatives are having without me, chinese dumplings, home made, tofu, my mom's beautiful sweet and sour fried fish, oven baked salmon, roasted vegetables, vegetable stir fry, my aunt and uncle and hot pot.

i am thankful for everythign that happened except the fact that i am not at home...

just two more weeks and i'll be back.

3:10am: poetry
i forgot i go to a fucking art school.
like people here appreciate little emotional ramblings
poems, notes, adorable art pieces made for eachother.

and boys here can appreciate those things.

if there is anything i know how to do well, i am good at writing sincere, honest, romantic poems.

3:15am: and the improvement of a journey often comes...
seeing the result of my grades for my midterm in art history worries me a lot!

Its almost the end of the semester. I must work hard on my finals and end strong and put extra effort into art history.... goodness.


It's getting better though. I've been hanging out a lot with multiple different groups of people and I meet a new inspiring person every single day. this school is honestly amazing as it is overwhelming. Inspiration comes and goes in waves. I think it's one of those times when i realize things are constantly getting better. I can't wait to meet more new people during wintersession and next semester.

Thanksgiving is in just a handful of days. Lets work my ass off until then.

NYC. :D

12:14am: its gonna be ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT
just pull through this last week and then it'll just be me and new york city.

---
my friend is doing this project where she is making a 5'x5' self portrait out of a calendar with tiny handwritten inscribings that depict everything she has done in the past year. 365 days.

I think about how different my life feels since I was safe, back at home, a long seattle winter, an exciting spring, and a beautiful summer, and then the single plane ride that changed everything.

it was the end of a spring/summer of loving. the end of my highschool years. the end of my adolescence. and the beginning of the biggest test of artistry that i've ever had to experience. the entrance to a college, an experience, a breathtaking, mind-blowing, entity that would consume me, tire me to the core, inspire me endlessly and completely change my life

if i were to dwindle every single day that happened this year into a single sentence or two it would be interesting what i would remember.

when i think of the summer the most colorful things i can remember is the beautiful or melancholic moments i had with my ex boyfriend, friends, and a little bit of family. i remember being in the passenger seat of my ex boyfriend's car. that one song on that one perfect drive. listening to sigur ros in a wheat field. whispering sweet nothings on an abandoned dock. all the sketches and poetry i made, it poured out so naturally. the first time holding my baby brother for the in canada, how soft his hands were. retail therapy. first times. teenage lovers between the sheets. the one painting i did, it was love watercolored on hotpress windsor and newton. packing up at 3 am. partying with a small group of friends, my favorite couch in my friend's house that i fell asleep on. the time that one boy who i used to like appeared at my doorstep when i was crying and sang to me a cover of beatles and bright eyes song and it was the most beautiful thing ever. the dinner i had with my entire family, aunts, uncles, grandparents and everything. giving my grandpa a hug and he smiled, as if he were ten years younger and not afraid of dying. and looking at someone i used to call "lover" the last time, before i saw him drive away. i think the last thing he told me was "i want you to be happy. for me, if anything. goodbye." i was crying for the entire car ride to the airport and held my mother's hand tightly. hugging my mother goodbye at the airport. seventeen years of being raised and watching me grow being reduced in a single sweeping hand gesture that maybe meant goodbye. for now. seeing the seattle soil below me disappear into grids, planes, tiles, clouds, and then an endless gray sky.

I set foot into RISD with some idea of how hard it would be; the work, the sleepless nights the adapting to the newness, struggling to find myself social atmosphere; the getting over the past, and the innocence being lost again and again and again.

And I was right. it is fucking hard sometimes, but I have a firm belief that it will be worth all of it, the labor, the thousands, the constant homesickness, the crying, and the charcoal that sometimes gets inhaled into my lungs.

Because in between all of those things there are moments where i realize i am surrounded by genuine people who legitimately want to be my friend. it's just a matter of putting myself out there. i am happy, and if you read this you have to believe that i'm really not lonely all the time, believe me

. i just write here when i'm lonely
and out of tune
and burnt out
and
off
key.

11:39pm: in the end.... or the beginning... there is a letting go
i wish everything can trully be as amazing and wonderful as facebook says that it is.

that the good emotions i wear on my sleeve are real.

that this school is as amazing as i always dreamed.

and this school is amazing

i think what is really bringing me down is not this school, not anyone, not my problems, but simply myself. the constant cycle of letting other things, memories, the past, the harsh guessing game of change; affect how i feel about myself. becoming sadder because i let myself. because i climb into a hole and miss everything about home and then realizing that when i get home things won't be the same. but sometimes you fucking just have to wait it out or ACCEPT.



----------------------



IT WAS SO FUCKING EASY just leaving eachother and saying we will watch eachother go and be over eachother, and date other people. it was so easy to believe that I could do it. And I'm going to have to be able to do it.

and i know i should be moving on, i should be interested in other people, pursuing, being pursued....
but i will ask you, because i am vulnerable:

does she hold your hand so tightly that her heart feels like it's going to burst if there is any tighter possible grip

does she adore you so much that all the explodes from her imagination is a multitude of poems and paintings about you being the happiest and most beautiful thing that ever happened

will she remember you forever, and dream of you for months and months after the final separation with the breathtakingly melancholic power that first love can carve into one's being?

does she memorize the exact color of your eyes, the shape of your profile from drawing you dozens of times, the exact sound and rhythm of your heartbeats when you feel the slightest tinge of happiness, the way you look when you are in the uttermost exaltation?

does she write you books of poetry, and worry and wonder if you are happy, however thousands of miles away you are and hope your mother is happy too?

most of all, does she have the sincerity and will she ever love you like that?



----

everything i just ranted about, wrote down, up above, is horrible, and unhealthy to think about.
But it's the fucking truth. It's so hard for me to hear that he is dating someone else now. I talk about being happy and I try to be and i try to have crush on guys here and progress into something, but it's so hard to do, and i will just have to wait for it to happen. wait to be reborn. i'm usually not so sad but i'm burnt out, stressed out, and still thinking of you.


TONIGHT,
THE METEORS WILL FALL FROM THE SKY.

I WILL SEE HUNDREDS OF FUCKING METEORITES. THE BLADES OF LIGHT SHINING BEADS OF ASTRONOMICAL TEARS.

LET THEM REMIND ME

"that in all the world's melancholic, experiential, breathtaking, life-saving TRANSIENCE,
L I F E I S B E A U T I F U L
even before you know it."

Those were the words i wrote on the poster in the cieling above my bed.

That was the poster where you wrote the words, small, "I love you" in red pen on that one night when we were under the blankets.




I never want to write our break up poem. but i feel like if there is any better time it should be now.



i want the meteorites to fall face flat into the earth tonight.

i want the earth to moan loudly and the roots beneath the evergreens to scream the life out of their photosynthesized beings.



i want the memory of my teardrops to taste like sugarspun diamonds on your tongue and i want you to always remember that time, that last time you held me and how i journeyed into the backseat of the fourrunner, and held my mother's hand as i watched you drive away. the rustling sound of your familiar suburu grinding against the dry pacific northwestern concrete where we once slowdanced at midnight in the prom clothes where i painted a mural which was what felt was the image in the interior walls of my heart when our lips colllided. The concrete that held the summer-drenched story of you&me. sincere lovers borne from the ashes of two strangers. everything you ever made me feel replayed in a blurring cacophony at that last moment you looked at me like i was the most sincerely beautiful thing you've ever held in your hands.

I was ready to experience the monsters of art school, but the biggest part of me died on that plane ride to rhode island.



I was reborn in Providence on the cleanest slate of canvas.

In those five short months, I shared with you, more of me, than i have ever shared with anyone.
My heART was yOUR hEART all summerlong.

All I can do is wish you and myself the greatest next adventure.


Shut the novel of youth-drenched memory and begin to live my fucking life.



(and i hope when you see the leonid meteorites falling from a pacific northwestern sky, you will touch that tiny silver peace sign you used to keep in your pocket, and remember me)

12:09pm: blajdfkajsdf
this school is kicking my ass... just cus i hardly have a way to release my stress, and procrastination is the bane of my existance.
like i just woke up today, knowing that i woke up late and realizing all the work i need to do today, tomorrow, the day after... all the way until thursday. then i can breathe. then the cycle repeats. and finals week comes up and it'll be even crazier.

I NEED A WINTERBREAK. but then... thanksgiving is next week.

and my plans have fallen through so I don't really know what to do with myself.

i really want to go back home.
Like really bad.

Just because I feel like I've gone through so much over here, and going home sounds amazing, but then winterbreak is hardly that far away.


I need a break i need a break.

4:30pm: inspiration finally!
 Today I finally got enough sleep and I felt the most sudden but greatest and most breathtaking burst of inspiration in my 2D design class. 

It was a sudden moment where I realized that the single still painted, photographed, image was not enough. I had to perform something. I had to make a film and turn myself into a segment of my own art piece.  I knew why I wanted to go into film/animation/video again.

I'm making a self portrait out of feathers and then destroying it by rolling my entire body on to it, and all the feathers will be sticking to me and I will have feathered wings and i will attempt flight but fail miserably. Only crash into styrofoam where the creation once took place.

Because maybe we all wish for majestic things sometimes.

Maybe since birth we always desired to free ourselves from the confines of gravity but even when we entangle ourselves in an incarnation of our facial image made out of the very feathers that enable birds to fly; it cannot grant us the freedom of flight. Nothing ever will. 

Talk about existentialism....

But I think it will be a fascinating piece if I ever make this work. I guess I've always been a bit ambitious but I guess at this school it isn't necessarily a bad thing.


And when I wake up from the most comfortable nap, the fever disintegrates and I hear the most beautiful cover of Jigsaw Falling Into Place by Radiohead creeping from the bitesize cracks between a door from a neighboring lounge.  the trembling beats and wallowing voices richochetting through the entire hall and i remembered the last time i ever heard any live music so beautiful was when my best brave friend performed a cover of a song by the beatles to a teary-eyed me in the middle of an empty street outside of the neighborhood i grew up in. 

I have more inspired little moments to write about but i'll save those for later.

10:34pm: sick
 So I'm sick. I don't know how I became sick but it may have to do with every body being sick and inhaling too much chalk in drawing class and bacteria in lungs. 

and i suppose apart from loneliness, my greatest fear is procrastination. failure. the courseload kicking me in the ass, head, hand, and heart. something like that.

and that's kinda what's happening.

sometimes what you really have to do is just hold your breath, regardless of the discomforts, and work work work work work. regardless of the lack of time, the imperfections, the expectations that you think you cannot meet.

cus that is why i'm here.
that is why i made it here.
to become better. more versatile. and meet everybody else doing it too. even if the influenza kicks in and so does the loneliness.

11:50pm:  I just feel like the weekends never make up for the amount of work I do and how I tired I am during the week.

That's all.

I'm in one of those mood where I'm really homesick and I just wish I could go home for thanksgiving but I can't. I wish more people would want to get to know me for my personality, for my character, rather than my art. 

3:39am:  ha, 3:39 AM,  I totally could be sleeping but I'm unable to.

Still I realize the things I've created here that I am sincerely proud of are far between. Late at night there is always the constant urge to work harder, to think harder, to push myself into the deepest reaches of creative thinking that my brain can possibly comprise. and sometimes i don't really know how unless this emptiness inside of me is filled.

there is some huge thirst inside of me.... 
a ginormous urge to give myself to someone, to pour my existance into something tangible, a person, a cause, but right now a person sounds better.

something incredibly genuine and extremely vulnerable fights to stifle the loneliness that sometimes creeps into the core of my being. 

it's not going to stop
until i begin to live my life,
and find it's much needed balance.

the only way i can possibly work harder and get better ideas is if I am happier with myself. So simply enough I am going to do things that will make me happy. hold hands, explore, stargaze and roam the streets of providence in whatever spare moments i can find.

i need to fucking sleep

2:38am: rediscover genuineness
it was nice to not even think about work for the entirety of the day. to dress up as a sailor, go trick or treating, and party.
the walk back was better than the trashy artschool warehouse halloween party itself.
because of the genuineness in the conversation we had. the new rumbling beginning of what seems to be a great friendship.
i like how easy it is to tell when you meet a genuine friend who sincerely wants to get to know me versus a person who wants to get to know me only sometimes, and other times use me as some photoshop tutor. 

it's like i no longer see the appeal of party-drinking anymore. house parties, frat parties, a hundred people cramped in a tiny room, grinding, dancing, hooking up. i miss small parties with genuine friends. i miss the long genuine talks when you first get to know someone... and slowly with the ebb and flow of new conversation; you unpeel the layers of their lifestories and discover all the suprises that make them who they are today. 
i miss long drives, edgeless nights, where the pacific northwest horizon seemed just an armslength away and if you reached and pulled hard enough, you could grab a fistful of infinity and hold it briskly in your hands. i miss exploring, adventuring to places abandoned, and forgotten. feeling the greatness of mother nature ebbing through your every vein. running through the rain with a lover's hand tucked tightly between your fingers wheatfields, the freedom of summer. the sobriety of discovering the true character underneath the layers of mental flesh and social lubricants. 

i miss writing poetry.

i miss the adventurousness, the sudden inspiration that life unexpectedly gives you. the kind of inspiration that is lost when you dive headfirst into working and let work consume you.

most of all i miss having a person i can spill all my splashing wavelets of thoughts, revelations, and sentiment to. a person i can just call up and the day would be our canvas, and we'd paint over every inch of it with whatever medium we dreamed; sunlight, adventure, childhood, tiramisu, or love. 

i think i am going to explore and have some sweet sober fun.

7:04pm:  i need something other than endless nights spent art making, the occasional nights spent with friends, and even more occasional partying... to keep me going. I don't know what.

Even at the art school I've been dreaming of going to for my entire highschool career there is this constant ebbing emptiness I feel sometimes I cant get rid of. 

Even with all of my creations, origami dresses, self portraits, and figure drawings stacked higher than a mountain, i feel further from my heart than you ever would have known. Maybe I need to volunteer for some cause, do something that feels tremendous, or find someone, somewhere, a muse, a staggering burst of inspiration.



But I remember parts of the past where I felt so tremendously full,
as if a thousand kitestrings were soaring outwards from the core of my being,
entangled in the atmosphere and the planets themselves. 

i would write heart-singed poems into the night sky
and a hundred thousand rays of light,
light years upon light years away, 
would write back to me.

I'd let myself be genuinely consumed by the graceful integrity of this Life.
I was so genuinely happy and so full.




i want so badly to believe that i will be able to find that inspiration and love of life and feel that full again someday soon. 

2:34am: i dreamt of a _
 sometimes the most beautiful things happen at two in the morning.

and they might be pancakes at midnight, origami dresses that took thousands and hours and eight hands and cranes, meeting new people that remind you of characters from your favorite fiction novels,  the supple rufflings of butterflies against your chest or the realization that finally you are appreciated for your insanities and crazinesses and social awkwardnesses and you'll never have to do art in the confines of your loneliness again, but rather, in the company of friends.

in the sunset of dissolution
EVERYTHING IS ILLUMINATED
by the aura of nostalgia. 

I want to cling on to such moments and never forget that feeling.

2:02am: rantings
 all the crushes i've had here are pretty stupid and lead me nowhere. i guess they're nice distractions...

in the end everything leads me back to one motive; I have to work harder, execute my ideas better, and pour even more of myself into my work. Those times I did my drawing homework in two hours and turned in something I knew was shit.... I know I can do better. The teacher said that I'm getting a B in drawing based on the work I've done so far. It's fucking drawing, what I have been doing my entire life, not drama or 3D. 

And yet sometimes, I don't know how on earth i can really work harder. I am aware there are probably around 10 hours in a given week I spend procrastinating, doing nothing useful, not even partying or hanging out purposely. If I can somehow go straight to work after each studio class, and meal, limit myself to only one night out each week, then I think I will be able to reach my goals. 

One of my really great friends here that I admire very much a asked me to go to the artist ball with him. It's basically like a costume party / annual dance type of deal where everybody dresses up in either very artsy or very slutty costumes. He asked primarily because he really liked my origami dress costume and wanted to make a matching origami suit, and also partially because we're pretty good friends. I wouldn't imagine anything more at all. 

I'm really excited. That pretty much made my weekend. It's going to be incredibly epic. On prom I painted a dress. Now it's time to actually formally create one out of paper. 

I've been realizing I constantly second guess myself. I forget that it is my personality, not the fact that I can make art and have interesting ideas, what ultimately sets me apart, and defines who i am. I forget the words that my friend wrote in my year book. The words that once brought  me to tears because they were exactly what I needed to believe. In myself. Among all of the insanities and insecurities of life. I needed to believe in myself, not my art, or my ability to create, but myself, most of all.

i miss intimacy. i miss closeness. i miss being able to get enough sleep. i miss kissing.

yet i left it all behind to come to this place.

2:00am: some optimism
 All I feel is the constant pull of creativity from the center of my body. I have so much in me to create, to give, to fucking live, so many ideas upon potential ideas in the corridors of my mind and memory, but the quality is sacrificed by the dumb state of my work ethic. Everyday before I go to sleep, I just think of all the things I probably should've started, worked on, completed, and wish I didn't procrastinate. Everyday I wake up I say "today I am going to work my ass off." And I sometimes do, but other times I don't. I want to be able to get up early and sleep enough but thats the most common form of idealism at risd. I got hard teachers who are obsessed with quantity; it's almost impossible for me, because of how much i immerse myself into my work. I manage my time pretty well except for the weekends. Part of it is getting used to the inhumane work schedule and courseload. I think I can do better. I know I can. 

I think it's just pretty wonderful to feel the inspiration surging into me from all directions. Work harder. Party harder, but never let that get in the way of the quality of your work.

Each week just gets harder.... this is the hardest one yet.

I am to make an entire dress out of origami. - wednesday. I'm reallly quite ambitous and I want to make one project in 3d that isn't mediocre. All my past stuff have been mediocre.
12 black and white self portraits. - thursday and 20 pages in my sketchbook about light. Doing pretty wonderfully in 2D.
This weekend do a 30x40 drawing in the nature lab and 10 sketches or random things. Doing good in drawing but the quality of my work is inconsistant.
Read a play and write a short essay.
Take my Art history midterm tomorrow.

Gosh no wonder I'm having time management issues.

In all this, I can say that RISD has pretty much consumed me. There will always be times i miss home, but this place is slowly becoming a home. i've bonded. made fantastic friends. found the college experience of an artistic lifetime. Meeting new people. Partying a night a week. Things are good.

I keep a photograph of you in my wallet still.

6:52pm:  i can feel another all-nighter creeping up to bite me soon.

11:38pm: stranger danger
i love this school, there is no where else i'd rather be, somedays i'm the happiest clam you'll ever meet, but sometimes i am drenched in the deepest, most consuming loneliness.

the kind where nostalgia and
the immense explosive elated
light of the past consumes me
and i dream and dream and
dream and dream.

there is no other way to escape than to accept.
to accept is to escape.

let there be forgiveness, let there be love, joy, and happiness and self worth.

and let all your accomplishments, all your friends, all your hope be enough. 

2:42pm: musings
there was a story i told.

a boy is fishing for stars. he throws a fishing hook into the sky, unravelling light years upon light years of magic string, and finally it latches on to a distant star. The star gravitates towards the earth at an unbelievable speed and in it's firey immensity -- it envelopes the entirety of the earth.

the world ends in a collision of pulverized seconds.

the boy was shocked at what he done and swore he'd never go star-fishing again before the world took him down with it, in an explosion of all that there was. light. matter. dust.

and the longest string to ever exist.

8:58pm:  nevermind. RISD is amazing. I fucking adore my 2-D design class and teacher.

4:48pm: ok, october, here we go.
 stop procrastinating. 
get out of your room.
SLEEP MORE.
let go of the BRILLIANT LIGHT OF THE PAST.

embrace this day. embrace this place you've been dying to go to for the longest time.

embrace art school. embrace this valley of creatives.

GET ON WITH YOUR LIFE.

and WORK your hardest but
live
breathe
and remember
in between.




i wonder how many seniors hear the words of my grad speech echo in their heads when they forget to live? 

11:18pm:  there are people singing in the residence halls at 11:19 pm. I have miles upon miles of artwork i need to create, brain passageways i have yet to discover, things i need to learn about myself, the timeless growing up i need to do.

but i thought i would write today.

what i am most familiar with is the feeling of being alone among a group of friends.

i had an idea of a painting. or illustration. there are hearts dangling out of the chests of every person, boys and girls on a couch. all of the hearts are entangled and embracing eachother by the vein except for one heart. it floats, like a lonesome kite, in a corner, several yards away from all the other hearts, drooping slowly towards the ground. i could make an animation. 

this is the first time my heart, the very core of my being has felt true loneliness in months.

i used to speak of commingled hearts, hearts entwined, and enflamed and ceaselessly connected to other hearts. it was senior year of highschool. my friendships developed through the past four years were at their peaks. i had a boyfriend.

most of the time there is a blanket around my loneliness. temporary skins, social lubricants that would cover it.

but always, at the very core of my being it exists, stronger than it ever did.



maybe this loneliness i talk about would pour into my art, finding an outlet in the things i create. dribble out of my fingers at the sound of "GO!"

yet at the same time there is no where else i would rather be, but here. at the rhode island school of design. 

i know soon these feelings will pass and i will love it a lot more here. but for now, among all the stresses of balancing this workload this is how i feel.

and i hear the sound of my roomates' singing voice echoing loudly across the hall.

4:07am: inspiration in it's finest
 ANDREA GIBSON IS AMAZING. 


holy shit. i am reminded why i am a writer. why sometimes pictures are not enough. why i need to make movies, write stuff, and express myself.

http://www.andreagibson.org/poems/poems_photograph.html

i was legitimately pouring my eyes out as i heard this. as these beautiful words came dribbling out of my speakers.

this is the most beautiful melancholic thing i've heard in ages. it is so relevant to everything i've been feeling. it is so relevant to my life. if i could one day be able to write and deliver poetry/art that would give people the same effect as this, then my goals as an artist would be complete.

3:16am:  & sometimes there's the realization that everything has changed. life as you knew it before, under the roof and protectiveness of your parents is over. you're really on your own. everything is your own responsibility. there's a certain liberating feeling to that as well as an immense fear.

how humbled am i to be here.