Marble

Upon completion and deliverance of two presentations last week, I have decided it is possible to have social anxiety while simultaneously being a talented presenter. Perhaps it is the "teacher" in me.

I have one written final and a final review for studio this week. I need to edit and mail a fellowship application. I should probably work to finish She before I break for semester; it would be nice for another project to be on my application.

Instead of working, I read Gone Girl and will spend the free spaces in my mind analyzing it.

Thanksgiving

Days used for healing dreams and dancing, the holiday ended so soon. Everyone has turned their attention back to the long list of projects to complete before break. I have accrued a list of magic realism novels to read from a friend, and I am eager to finish schoolwork so I can be free to wander.

Awake and not oppressed for the first time all semester, I have slowly risen and begun sprinting again. Two more weeks of labor and busy work, and then I will start long hours on my application.

She

Final critique over; final research paper turned in; yet for Thanksgiving. I have been asleep since Mercury went into retrograde, finally waking to Taylor Swifts' "Blank Space" this morning. 

Funny how one professor can move me from a complete sprint to sitting in two months. I began the semester telling myself I am taller than I think. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that I have a choice. I am no longer pushed on, my reaction as the chess move; instead, I am on the fold imminent. I know I can lead while in motion and not wait for an invitation.

Some

Apologies for falling so far inside myself that it hindered my updating.

I am in the middle of my important research paper, dreaming about organization and waking up to act on it. I have printed an outline, revised the outline, printed half of the first draft, revised that half. I am working toward and not away, like my mind is begging.

I have a wonderfully choppy first draft for my purpose statement and a gloriously short artist statement as of late. Attention to both of these want the next couple weeks, but I am unsure if I will have milk enough for all.

I do have beginnings for my solo senior thesis show and a two-person show for this coming spring. Hold your breath the plans sustain and will unfurl soon.

Reorientation

I've wrestled with a new eye prescription for two weeks now, my brain fighting to understand seeing clearly. This parallels the "critical distance" I am relearning. Absent-minded for a month, and daylight savings grounded me.

I am rewriting cover letters, artist statements, purpose statements. The editing never ceases.

I will finish my folds project before this week is over.

With Bated Breath

Third studio visit this semester tomorrow morning. I've begun my research for the Rothko paper, one month and counting to finish it (writing that sentence caused an enormous burst of adrenaline). Still to write a cover letter to approach a gallery for my senior thesis show. 

I have also begun "setting the folds" in my current project. It is exciting for it to come together.

I went to the dentist last week. My roommate's parents also visited. The next time I see both parties I will know what my future holds right after graduation. 

After

Midterms and flying colors and she wants, no more. A certain generosity when I need to wait. I felt uphill, I only knew perpendicular trails this past week. The end of workload means more workflow.

Inescapable, this haunt about "after." After a bachelor's degree, after growing and living in a place so strong, after being torn apart and folded back together. The same noise that begs at an inevitable ending. I am just as scared as I was seven years ago.

Some Time Before

Right quick, before I run to studio—

A misstep yesterday turned into an adventure with one breath, a wealth of love and my need to lay things down. I completed first round of sericin reduction and am about to dye a light shade of new black for the silk organza piece. Yet to begin small samples on various polyester fabrics. I am still researching folds.

Again to study for a midterm, to make two responses and read some smart things. Still to write and organize two research papers. Self-diagnosing thirty minute naps after 2 hour studying sessions.

I am holding my hands against the nitpicking I am not enough. One day I'll remember to stop and meditate on the color blue long enough to clear my head.

Was Also

Sleep heals all, yet again. This week stole my judgement and poise. I would set one thing down, just to lose it two hours later. I felt a mild psychosis creeping.

Critique yesterday, second project of the semester still needing to be shot & posted. A first rough draft for one survey class. An idea for a research paper in another.

I felt drowning, what in all the powerful storms that raged by this week. Drowning in work and rainwater and apathy.

But here comes sleep, rubbing eyes and I am new to face midterms.

Spent

A semi-feud with a professor and yet to go back to studio since Monday. Days move quick, like their deft fingers and even a nap can't save me from the anxiety.

I've been stuck on. On and on and on

Stopped caring to pick up pieces. Stopped caring when I open my mouth, so wide

You can't take this high I'm on. I haven't been this inspired in a very long time.