I can feel....

I can feel myself stretching and growing and feeling deeper... which is wonderful and absolutely terrifying. I love to see progress - as someone told someone who told me, "That girl wants to have already arrived." Well, it's true. I do want to have already arrived. I just wish that this sudden mini-arrival was less disconcerting.

I seem to have discovered a knack for surprising myself lately. Both in writing, and in art, and in what I say without thinking about it. And in what I do without thinking about it. A lot of the things I pretended at last year are coming to fruition, at least it seems like they are. I've written something I'm actually proud of (at least for now - but it's been about two days, so who knows? I may be proud of it for a week), my work ethic has grown tremendously, I again trust (about 90% of the time) my instincts and analyzations of art and writing (I can predict my grades to within 3 points in Color & Design), learned how to revise, and learned how to study. Slacking off, well, I do that too. = D Especially this week. But I needed some time to just... I dunno, breathe again. Heaven knows those moments are so rare.

I can't believe we're halfway through the semester. Time dragged and flew all at the same time. I was reading a book the other day for Philosophy, memoirs from a concentration camp, and that's what it said too - in the concentration camp a day seems like weeks and weeks go by in a flash. Not to draw too much of a parallel between concentration camps and college; there's a world of difference. For instance, I can now use semi-colons, which they decidedly do not teach you in concentration camps.

I hope that when I grow up and am an artist I'm not one of those people who is so much in love with the idea of being an artist that they don't live in the reality of being an artist. I say this because Breon Gilleran, the author of the exhibit no art major really liked, is one of those people, and I was sorely disappointed in her explanations of herself. Mostly because she didn't really give an explanation for herself. She didn't know what she was doing - said some feminist things to excuse her concept for the show, and honestly I think her amateurish materials and crafstmanship were not intentionally that way, but because she knew no other way to make them. I also feel very strongly that you don't become an artist because you like the company, and you don't become a sculptor because there are so few females in the field and you want to change that. You become an artist because you've got a passion for it and you sculpt because you've got a passion for it. But maybe I'm being hard on her. It just seemed to me that she was much more caught up in the community of artists than in art, and in the idea of art than the art itself. She loves the thought of having a studio so much that what comes out of it matters less. I feel like (and maybe that's just me) but that's inexcusable. So I hope to goodness I don't fall into that trap, because I'd have to endure severe self-censure.

I went to talk to Professor Perrin today, and she really liked the one poem I brought to her. The one that I didn't know what to do with, so I guess I gathered up all that courage for nothing, because it was good after all and I didn't have to face failure. I did, however, submit it to the Minnemingo (today was the deadline so it was a do-or-die sort of reckless submission) so I may still have to face rejection. Anyway, I have a clear picture of what I need to do to revise it, even if I don't know exactly the means to reach my end, and I was able to defend most of it when she cross-questioned me, and it was all very good. I felt very happy, if very tired (mustering courage takes a lot of energy, as does combatting the cold. Brr!!). I cut out a few lines and changed a word and now I think I'll be able to defend it all - I just need to elaborate a few lines more, perhaps. And I'm thinking that I should try to get published this year, so maybe that's a poem to begin with....

I stopped by the library today to get a bunch of books. More than a three-day-weekend will allow, but there is fall break coming up as well, so maybe they'll tide me over till then. I'm looking forward with both anticipation and dread of so many empty, class-less hours. I'm thinking it will be an exploration weekend, and maybe a catch-up weekend, depending on how the week goes.

And now, dear friends, work is calling.... I just felt that I should ramble. Hopefully I didn't come across as an arrogant ranting perfectionist, although that may be what I am. = D

Mackenzie