I do it all the time. I write, I feel better, I fall silent. Repeat. When anxiety hits and my heart starts racing I tell myself that everything is okay. I’m in a better place. I no longer live where I’ll be greeted by an empty apartment I had gotten with my partner. I have roommates to greet me and pets to cuddle with. I like my new school, and I’m making friends. Nothing is really wrong.

Still, I wake in the night with increasing anxiety, and the thoughts won’t stop. Conversations I’ve had, things I should have said, what I have to do. Flashes of moments I’ve overcome surface in split seconds and leave me breathless. Me standing in a cornfield alone at night after getting groceries. Crying because I didn’t want to go back to school. Being sad to leave my family. The dorms I’ve lived in. My ex’s eyes, or face. The brief stab that comes with thinking of him over a year later.

“It’s okay, everything is okay.” I tell myself. Soothing like the way I’d talk to another person or animal. It’s my first semester of junior year in college and it’s said to be one of the hardest at my school. The training wheels have come off and we are left to make art, exploring what kind of artists we are. I’ve been experimenting with what sculpture means to me, and working with a combination of materials that are new and familiar. Sewing, painting, playing with wire, working with caulk..

I’ve been struggling with being torn between writing and art, and wondering if I should have gone to school for writing. What it would be like if I had. Questioning, “what’s the point? Why am I here?” Feeling worn down and not liking that my life revolves around school. That I eat and sleep less. Trying to work through having depression and anxiety. I’ve been meeting a group of girls who have similar experiences, which is comforting to know that I am not alone, but also troubling that so many people I’ve spoken to recently feel the same way. That they’ve thought about giving up and dropping out of school but we’re so close to finishing that we shouldn’t. I read an article recently that said how there is an increase of people in universities who are being seen for mental health, which is reflected in the people I have been talking to.

Since I’m torn between writing and making art I figure I should be posting more often.


Intriguing people. Writing 101, day 6

I’ve met a lot of intriguing people at my art school this past year. Including a few girls that I had a crush on. I liked to watch them from a distance because I didn’t know what to say, and was afraid that I would say something silly. Or startle them. I don’t think I’m scary, but I didn’t want to scare off two women that I admired. One of these girls was in my ceramics class and reminded me of a little deer. Which is funny since I usually think of myself that way, but felt scarier than her. Like a wild cat with a doe, or  small child. This girl had brown hair with blue tips -she might have originally had it all dyed- and blue eyes. Or at least I think she did. When I saw her crouched over her art I didn’t want to break her concentration. I’d gently ask her what she was working on and try to talk to her but mostly I’d leave her alone.

I don’t know much about her, except that she was extremely talented. And cute. For our first ceramics assignment we had to go to a museum then make a replica of something we had seen. We then had to do that replica again with a twist. I remember she made a vase standing on a bunch of feet. But actually. She made lots of bare feet poking out from under the ledge of the vase, and one with a sock. It was so quirky it stuck in my mind. One day I saw her at a party. She was with a friend, and they mostly giggled to themselves. But I watched her in the room. That night I was surprised to see her because she had shaved the bottom of her hair under her ponytail and was dressed in black. She looked different from the times that I had seen her before. More dangerous and a different kind of attractive.

For our final project she made miniature bathtubs out of ceramics, metal and fabric. She even hand sewed little curtains. It was so endearing, I’m a sucker for tiny things. I remember our eyes meeting throughout the crit.

Another girl that I liked was in my wood carving class. She seemed so down to earth and spiritual, and I was fascinated by her. She would come in with her eyebrows colored teal -or pink-, and had brown hair fading from purple with the side shaved. One of my favorite looks that I’ve rocked before -the hair, not the eyebrows-. For her final project she made a tool kit for a mortar and pestle and a bunch of glass vials. She had given us fliers advertising her henna, and I remember her hands decorated with earthy colored patterns.

I’ve seen her in the halls since that class has ended. She seemed like a cool person and someone I would love to hang out with. I was surprised how cheerful she was when we’d greet each other, while I had spent most of the semester not wanting to intimidate her. Or be intimidated in turn.

Being in art school I see tons of fascinating people and projects, but these two girls have stayed on my mind. They were the first people I was interested in since my break up with an ex, and I was afraid to approach them. I was in such a weird place that I was worried I might scare them, but I still think about them months later. They were both attractive, sweet, caring, and kind. I was fascinated and wanted to get to know them. Instead, I watched from a distance and was at awe by their creativity.

Today’s assignment– Who’s the most interesting person (or people) you’ve met this year?