Before I get started on my rambling, let us take a minute to catch up to the present time. I believe my last post was nearly 4 years ago. My, how life has changed.
First off, I am now a collage student. I didn't end up going where I thought I would and I've transferred a few times. Yes, I am still as indecisive as ever. 😬
My top choice was The University of San Diego. I actually got in but my senior year of high school I got pretty sick and that sort of put a hault in my plans. They wouldn't allow me to take a lil hiatus so I decided on University of Santa Clara instead. It was nice, town was a little dead (except for Whole Foods but it was quite a ways away). But if anyone knows me, you know yo girl will do some serious things to get her groceries).
Anyway, during my intake meeting I remember asking about art classes. It was something I was looking forward to since my small STEM focuses high school didn't offer them. I am quite the doodler and though it'd be cool to get some credit for all that "drawing instead of note-taking" I'd been doing the last 4 years. The lady told me that taking art wouldn't really help me "get the right credits" since I already had enough credits from high school to fulfill the arts and humanities requirements. I was not amused.
Amongst the talk of all the wonderfully fun math and language classes I would have to take before I could take anything I was remotely interested in, I realized I was spending a TON of money to REPEAT HIGH SCHOOL (which was very much free by the way). I had just gotten out of that place and no one could pay me to do all that academic crap all over again.
I was reminded last night of how young some of our high school teachers were... maybe a few years older than I am right now. It made me realize how even now, I would so NOT be down for going back to high school. It presented important life experiences and yada yada but I think once in a lifetime is plenty for me, thank you.
So, to say the least, the meeting did not go quite as planned. And although I was very ready to get out of the house, Santa Clara just didn't seem to be the right match. Now if any of you don't know my dad, one thing about him is he is a wonderful brainstormer. I think most of my radical and amazing life idea spawned from some talk we were having. In chick flicks, the main character always has her quirky girlfriend... in my life, it is my father. It's a compliment I swear, just dig a little deeper.
He suggested I go to a school to do something I really love. "Why don't you go to art school?" he quarried.
I had always wanted to learn to draw... like really draw but I had never gotten to take classes. I'd loved the pottery class I took for a few months in the 4th grade and coming from the artistic family I did, it made sense. We spent the rest of the day researching and found some schools in California which was where my whole family was living at the time. It was January though, so many school's applications were closed until the following semester. But then we found SFAI.
Their website was charmingly artsy, they were located right in the heart of good ol' San Francisco and they were accepting rolling admissions for another 2 weeks. They asked for an artistic portfolio so, as you can probably imagine, I hopped on that like a vegan to a farmer's market.
We got notice that I had been accepted about a week later, visited the campus the following week and I moved in three days after that. It was fast. But it felt right.
Now if anyone knew me, they would know I was not quite the most spontaneous person to ever roam. I liked to know what was coming, I liked time to make decisions and I liked to let things sink in before I jumped in head first. But, life didn't seem to give me that option, so I went with it.
I got to live in a dorm...
It was a little run down... but lets just say I got pretty into duct tape.
I also may have gotten into the recycling bin.
This may or may not have led to the creation of the love child of duct tape and cereal boxes.
But c'mon my desk looked dope. I'm still into space... if you can't tell.
That semester was really fun. I met some cool people, took a drawing class with one of the best teachers I've ever had and spent a lot of time being creative and working at something I never thought I would learn to do. I spent hours practicing and my skills improved far beyond what I had expected. I was inspired and excited with every new creation.
And don't forget allllll the shenanigans to go with it...
1 comment:
Great post, love it! Glad you are writing again!
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