essays

Cathartic Ink

putting my own spin on things

Up and Down

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Today was very very odd for me…Homework mostly got ignored,
in favor of sheet/clothes washing and room cleaning, my tiny dorm room looked like a tornado had whipped through it and
I know that that was adding to my non-excitement of being in this city, this state…So I took care of that, with the
windows wide open to the sunshine and my music blaring as I sang loudly along at the top of my lungs.  Ran over to my
studio to meet a friend and grab some supplies for matting a gift for a friend (my artwork) and the friend walked me
home…It kind of surprised me when he was ready to leave that he instinctively reached out to hug me and told me that
“it was good to see me again”…Well, today is Monday, and I had seen him last Wednesday night, right before he went
home for four days for Easter Break.  We had a good laugh over that but really, it makes me feel great to know that
Nick, someone that I care about so much (he’s the curly-haired, x-box playing, drum-crazed, clay-friendly brother I
never had) seems to care a lot about me in return to make such a simple and overwhelming statement that he was glad to
see me…Makes me kind of wonder what we’re all going to go through when we graduate and scatter to the winds…I know
I’ll be leaving a lot of pieces of my heart and branching off alone again…I think its good for me, makes me reaquaint
myself with who I really am and who I want to be, while spreading the base of people that I love much further…
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At any rate, Paul returned back to Fargo around 7pm and as the sun fell and my spirits began to droop as I
realized I have an 8.30 am class tomorrow, he called me, super energetic, and happily telling me stories of computer
shopping with his father and birthday celebrations with his twin brother in their hometown.  He chattered for 20
minutes or so then told me he’d call back shortly after 8, and maybe come up and collect the belated Christmas gift I
had finally finished matting for him, and by the time he arrived, shortly before 9 pm I felt as though I’d fallen into
a pit of despondancy…Well, he stayed for about an hour, but neither of us had much energy and I told him some crappy
stuff that had gone on just before he left for home, and he sat on my bed playing with a pair of barettes and finally
left, leaving me to try and force myself to eat, which was difficult and wasn’t accomplished very well, but we all have
days like that…Anyway, after eating some noodles and then a little bit of oatmeal I called him on the phone and
talked to him for awhile about my state of being.  He’s positive that I’m doing this to myself, and he’s right.  A
thousand people could compliment me and I’ll ignore them but one person says anything that could even possibly be
construed as negative and I beat myself over the head with it.  That one means a lot to me…And I’m trying desperately
to keep my chin up and take criticisms of my work as just that, criticisms of my work and not of me, but when you’re a
designer it becomes very hard to separate the work from the self, at least in my case, and in the cases of several of
my classmates.  Its just…raw emotion…translated to a comic strip, to a building form, to the manner in which I
related the building to the site, to the detailing of a set for a play that cut very deeply into my soul as I read and
reread it…Design is a very…heartfelt…thing for me, and well, I have a hard time separating it.  If only I weren’t
such a fucking perfectionist I feel I could flow a lot more smoothly in the tide of life…But as I am, I’m doing my
best to learn to keep a float…And now for something completely different…I’m to bed…to sleep, perchance to dream.  
Aye, there’s the rub for in that sleep of death WHAT dreams may come…

               

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