This last week has been hectic for me.
With a whopping 20 page paper on the mind, artworks to submit to have a chance to be published, and other miscelaneous papers and homework on top of figuring out what the hell is going on with the financial aid office, I think I might have reached a near-cracking point.
I had a few mental breakdowns in a day - of which I even had my mother call me to calm me down. Those that know me this never happens. If anything I avoid conversation with the family as not to blow up.
After work on Friday, I scrambled to get all of my art together to take to a guy who was the photographer for the magazine I was entering in. Then the submissions go to a panel and they decide what works are awesome enough to get in and which ones aren't. As I enter the room where submissions are being photographed, I see there's only two guys in there- the photo guy and just another dude finishing up handing in his submissions. I breathe a little, knowing I'll be next and not stressing about the deadline which was two hours from where I was standing.
They seemed pretty chill, just comments about their art and such. The photographer looks at me, "Hey Thibodeaux." Always going somewhere that I'm a familiar face. It's actually quite nice. "Hi." I try to force a quick smile. "Brought your stuff for me to take pictures of?"
"Mmhmm."
"Almost done with this guy, then you're next."
"Do you have any submission forms?"
He looks around, "No, but if I tell you where they are, you wanna bring me a stack?"
"Sure thing!" I was a little excited, wanting to make this official.
After his specific instructions, I hurridly made way to the next building over to talk to some of the panel to get some submission forms. When I got back, he was finishing photos for the last metal sculpture of the guy who was in front of me. Patiently I waited, filling out all submission forms, one for each artwork.
"Alright man, that's it," I heard him say.
"Thanks again for doing this!" The metal sculptist began taking all of his artwork from the room.
"You ready?" The photographer asked.
"I have some necklaces I made. Glass beads on one and buttons for another."
"Necklaces. Cool! Yeah, bring them over." He began positioning them in an eye-pleasing sort of way.
"Position them how you'd like them." He told me.
"You're also an artist, do as you please."
He chuckled at me, "Don't tell me that..." and proceeded to take pictures.
"You almost out of here?" I asked, refering to graduation in May.
"Yeah, I've been here too long. Been here three years and I still don't know what I'm doing."
Woah, sounded like me. Cept he seemed pretty chill about the whole situation.
"Ha, I've been here three years too and will also be graduating this May. No idea what will come next. I know I'll be going back to Mississippi but that's about it." He switched necklaces to take pictures.
"Mississippi, eh? I'll be heading to Colorado. I think I'm just gonna go with the flow, take a year off and see where we go from there."
That made my day. Finally, someone else that doesn't know what they're doing, doesn't know where the wind will take them, but he just seemed so damn OKAY about it. I used to be like that. I have no idea why I let all of this build up and get to me. Who cares if I didn't get accepted into the Boston program? Who cares that I'm getting some associates I have no idea what I will do with? Who cares if all I know is that I'm going to Sippy and takin my Asian with me? I'm not dying and I'm not terribly off. We had a few more little short chats and later on some giggles about my Penis painting that I did.
I was relieved all over again that I didn't have to explain to him the meaning behind it because he himself was an artist too.
Moral? No one knows what's going on. Everyone just has different ways of looking at the unknown.
With a whopping 20 page paper on the mind, artworks to submit to have a chance to be published, and other miscelaneous papers and homework on top of figuring out what the hell is going on with the financial aid office, I think I might have reached a near-cracking point.
I had a few mental breakdowns in a day - of which I even had my mother call me to calm me down. Those that know me this never happens. If anything I avoid conversation with the family as not to blow up.
After work on Friday, I scrambled to get all of my art together to take to a guy who was the photographer for the magazine I was entering in. Then the submissions go to a panel and they decide what works are awesome enough to get in and which ones aren't. As I enter the room where submissions are being photographed, I see there's only two guys in there- the photo guy and just another dude finishing up handing in his submissions. I breathe a little, knowing I'll be next and not stressing about the deadline which was two hours from where I was standing.
They seemed pretty chill, just comments about their art and such. The photographer looks at me, "Hey Thibodeaux." Always going somewhere that I'm a familiar face. It's actually quite nice. "Hi." I try to force a quick smile. "Brought your stuff for me to take pictures of?"
"Mmhmm."
"Almost done with this guy, then you're next."
"Do you have any submission forms?"
He looks around, "No, but if I tell you where they are, you wanna bring me a stack?"
"Sure thing!" I was a little excited, wanting to make this official.
After his specific instructions, I hurridly made way to the next building over to talk to some of the panel to get some submission forms. When I got back, he was finishing photos for the last metal sculpture of the guy who was in front of me. Patiently I waited, filling out all submission forms, one for each artwork.
"Alright man, that's it," I heard him say.
"Thanks again for doing this!" The metal sculptist began taking all of his artwork from the room.
"You ready?" The photographer asked.
"I have some necklaces I made. Glass beads on one and buttons for another."
"Necklaces. Cool! Yeah, bring them over." He began positioning them in an eye-pleasing sort of way.
"Position them how you'd like them." He told me.
"You're also an artist, do as you please."
He chuckled at me, "Don't tell me that..." and proceeded to take pictures.
"You almost out of here?" I asked, refering to graduation in May.
"Yeah, I've been here too long. Been here three years and I still don't know what I'm doing."
Woah, sounded like me. Cept he seemed pretty chill about the whole situation.
"Ha, I've been here three years too and will also be graduating this May. No idea what will come next. I know I'll be going back to Mississippi but that's about it." He switched necklaces to take pictures.
"Mississippi, eh? I'll be heading to Colorado. I think I'm just gonna go with the flow, take a year off and see where we go from there."
That made my day. Finally, someone else that doesn't know what they're doing, doesn't know where the wind will take them, but he just seemed so damn OKAY about it. I used to be like that. I have no idea why I let all of this build up and get to me. Who cares if I didn't get accepted into the Boston program? Who cares that I'm getting some associates I have no idea what I will do with? Who cares if all I know is that I'm going to Sippy and takin my Asian with me? I'm not dying and I'm not terribly off. We had a few more little short chats and later on some giggles about my Penis painting that I did.
I was relieved all over again that I didn't have to explain to him the meaning behind it because he himself was an artist too.
Moral? No one knows what's going on. Everyone just has different ways of looking at the unknown.
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