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Escape
2002, February 11 - 7:19 p.m.

Why am I so lazy? I mean, really. I have a painting sitting on my drafting table just staring at me saying: paint me! Come on I'm due tomorrow!

Well, maybe not tomorrow, my instructor is notorious for giving extensions. But regardless, I should be working on it. I'm a quarter of a way done. Why can't I just sit down and get it finished?

I think I know why though. Art fundamentals is no longer doing it for me. I want to get started on something real. I want to get moving on a career path. Art Fundies isn't going to get me there at all. All I need to do is keep my marks at a decent level. That's it. I don't need a portfolio, i don't need to practice my life drawing, I don't need to improve my painting. I just need to pass with decent marks. That is so depressing. Art was my passion, or at least it used to be. I'm not as good as everyone else and I don't want it as much as everyone else. I came to that understanding when I saw what the illustration students were doing and I dreaded the thought of havig to do it. I also felt that way whenever I passed Art Fundies students in the halls while they were diligently working. I felt that way when people were going through special admissions and I didn't care.

I feel like I'm giving up on art. Or rejecting art. Possibly because I know art will reject me if I apply. Don't get me wrong, I'm not running from my dreams or anything of the sort... I just don't feel connected when I'm working on art projects. I feel connected when I'm writing. I feel connected when I'm doodling my little characters.

I'm feeling a little disappointed in myself though. I always thought I had a special talent. I thought art was what I was meant to do. I came to college and realized I was wrong. I was wrong for the greater portion of my life. I wanted to be a writer when I was little. When I was in grade 8, I though I could do it. When I got to high school, I felt like perhaps I should focus on art. That got me nowhere but frustated. Especially in OAC.

But I digress. I guess I realized that journalism was right for me when I opened the Sheridan book and read what it was about and immediately thought: yes. It hit me square in the head later, when I saw that I was escaping from my art by writing. Writing in here.

However, this all does not change the fact that I have a painting to do... despite what I want to do next year, I hav made my bed for this one and I must lie in it; or paint in it. Whichever you please.

p.s. Vote for me here: Cross Examine Award

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