Swords, Art, and Coffee

Hello again (finally).

Well, since I wrote my last entry, a TON has changed. I'll start from the beginning, and we'll see how long this post goes, I guess!

First off, I'm no longer at college. This probably comes as a surprise to most of you. The reason I left is a rather complicated one. I'll tell the story as best I can.

First off, you guys probably know I have big problems with procrastination. I found out that this is likely because of ADHD, and I left for college shortly after learning that--which meant that I still didn't know how to manage my time properly. As a result, I had trouble getting anything done. Homework was a struggle. Writing essays/papers became very hard for some reason, and even READING was tricky to finish!

Second, I started having roommate problems of an unusual sort. I'm very introverted...but my roommate was even more introverted than I am. She would leave the room--but only for class and to get food. She next to never hung out with friends, and she kept odd hours. At first, she'd wake up at about 6am to get ready for classes and go to chapel, and go to bed at around 11pm. Because she was asleep then, I felt almost like I had my own space, and would stay up late and sort of sleep in as much as I could the next morning to continue to preserve my time to recharge my social batteries. Unfortunately for me, when she got up at 6am, she tended to make a bit of noise as she searched for her things, showered, etc.

(One of my suitemates also showered at about 2am every day. I have no clue why.)

But then...for some odd reason...she began to stay up until 2am like I did. Considering her habit of getting up at 6...she was getting about 4 hours of sleep. I don't know how she managed it, but she somehow did, and suddenly the one bit of time I had purely to myself was gone.

It was based on this propensity to stay in the room at all times and a few other problems that I finally talked to my floor leader, the housing director, and at last to my roommate herself. I'd never really confronted anyone about anything before, but I managed somehow, despite how scared I was. It went surprisingly well (I was worried about her reaction), and things changed a bit after that, but the problems continued to persist. I'd be okay with it when I was there, but when I was out with friends, or on break, or things like that, I'd realize how trapped I felt in that situation and just want out.

So I booked a single room for the next year, decided I could manage one more semester like this, and thought that was that.

But then there was the matter of glorious art. I was taking a lot of really tough classes (Latin, great books, etc.), and for fun, decided to also take a drawing class, as I think I've mentioned on here before. Not sure though. Anyway, when I got my grades in at the end of the semester, I discovered something surprising.

My highest grade was in that art class.

I was going home, having struggled through my first semester, and was realizing that hey, maybe I don't actually want to force myself through more academics if I don't have to. High school, for all I enjoyed it, had been an exhausting experience, and I was still feeling very burned out from all the work I'd done there. It was making things like papers, reading, studying, and going to class very difficult.

But art...when I sat down to do an art assignment, I could work for hours and love every minute of it. I'd put my headphones in, and listen to an audiobook or some music, and draw the still life, and get my hands and jeans covered in charcoal, and get up and stretch and go down the hall and get Dr Pepper from the vending machine and just sit and breathe in the atmosphere of the art building...

I LOVED IT SO MUCH THERE. And I loved my art class with every fiber of my being.

When I wasn't at the art building, I was at that coffee shop that I mentioned in my last post. I would go there to escape and feel almost by myself. I didn't know many people there--sometimes I'd run into a friend, or I'd meet someone, or wave goodbye to the baristas when I left (I was there so much they all knew me). But most of the time I'd find my little perch and draw or write or laugh at funny pictures on the internet or even *gasp* get work done there.

The coffee shop was my other favorite place at college.

So it's no surprise that when I returned home for break...and then took a trip to Florida for a bit, before returning to college...that I started thinking.

Why am I even there? Is it God's will for me to be there anymore? What am I supposed to be doing? Why don't I love all of it like I thought I would?

Over the break I started feeling increasingly stressed about going back. I started feeling more and more that I really, really did NOT want to return to my college.

That's when I remembered that before I left for college the first time, I had considered for one dreaming, wild second, that maybe I actually wanted to go to art school.

After discussing things with my mom, praying about it, and everything...I made my decision. I was going to go home. I was going to work on my portfolio.

And I was going to go to art school.

Currently I'm at home, starting on that portfolio. And remember how much I loved that coffee shop? I work at one now. It's very different from just sitting in one, but there's something so satisfying about brewing coffee, making tea, meeting regular customers, waving to the little kids who come in with their parents, educating people about coffee and tea, grinding coffee beans, and actually having a job. Even if that job does involve getting to work at 4:30 am once or twice a week. And cleaning the bathrooms once or twice a week.

Long story short, life is so much better now than it was then, and I thank God that He was able to show me that I didn't have to feel pressured to live up to what I thought I had to do because I was capable of it. I'm so glad He helped me explore my more creative side and spend time doing something I really enjoyed to the point where I realized that there could possibly be an actual career there for me.

So yeah. Everything is pretty good now ^_^

You're probably wondering why I mentioned swords in my post title by now, huh? Well, I have made a decision. I was always planning on getting myself a "HOORAY YOU GOT A JOB" present with my first paycheck, before I started saving in earnest for a car, an apartment, etc. (Because yes, I'd love to have my own apartment. And a driver's license. Heh.) And I decided...

*drumroll please*

...that I'm going to be purchasing myself an actual medieval ish sword. Something I've wanted since I was about seven years old, and finally have the means to procure for myself.

Yes, I do have a replica sword (which ironically looks about identical to the one on the cover of The Bones of Makaidos). Yes, I do have a competition katana (i.e., it's not sharp, and you can't sharpen it, but it looks like a sword and you can swing it around like one). But there's something exciting about buying a sword that I will actually be able to slice watermelons in half with and feel like a real knight while holding!

Also I found somewhere I can get a beautiful custom-designed one that's not upwards of $3000. So that is a DEFINITE plus.

What am I going to do with it? Keep it in my room. Eventually have it on my wall. Slice watermelons with it. Pass it down as an heirloom to future generations. *shrug* Maybe swords will make a comeback and I'll find a slightly more practical use for it!...okay, maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part.

But anyway, that's my story of swords, art, and coffee. And I'm excited to see what the future holds!

*posts post*