Last night I dreamt I was rejected.
But then I dreamt of going back to China! It was a weird mixture of scenes. Meeting a random girl that wanted to practice English, then going to the squat toilets with her.
Talking with Justin and Sebrina about where to eat, then sitting down at this fried food and noodle store, which of course was next to three other equally appealing fried food and noodle stores. Walking around in the rain. Sitting at a table with the Chinese girl and a bunch of other native English-speakers.
She was left out of the conversation mostly, but after a while she turned to me and said something that's the equivalent of "what's up?". I responded with something that meant "not a lot". Our casual back and forth made me think she knew English really well. Understanding and using colloquial phrases appropriately seemed like a good sign. (The words we actually spoke were jibberish. I wish I could remember the exact sounds, but it was like goddlefaba moo? shnakee dadle...sort of not really, but maybe?)
It's my first dream about China since being back! I'm happy to know my concentrated conscious thoughts of China yesterday leaked into my subconscious firings for the night.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
just a boring recount of an emotional day
Today turned out to be a sort of emotionally tumultuous day.
I went to my painting professor having a breakdown, deciding to start over on a project even though we're already halfway through the time to make it in. It just became something I didn't want to work with anymore and wasn't going to turn out in any way I would be pleased with. She was understanding of my emotional reaction and supportive of my decision. She even said I had integrity for starting over at this point because it showed that I recognized I wasn't doing something as well as I could. She apparently didn't think the painting was as bad as I did. She did however agree that it would be better as an installation. I was painting stacked televisions with cropped parts of Mao's face on each screen, making up a full image of his face. It seemed pointless. Why move that concept to a canvas when you could actually use televisions? So painting it was just tedious. Hopefully I'll actually be able to realize that installation if I can speak to someone and figure out how to break up his face on screens.
Changing plans meant I had to go to the store and get a new canvas. Luckily I don't need to build this one because she understands the time crunch. And then figure out what I was going to paint. I bought the canvas, bussed it back to school, then walked home to figure out some new images. I brought them back for her to see, and it wasn't suitable for the project's guidelines. I got upset again, and just sat there trying to think of how I could fix things. I must have looked mad, so she asked why I was pissed. That's when I cried. I didn't want her to feel I was angry with her, so I explained it all. It felt like failure upon failure. And this is my last painting class so I've been feeling this pressure that I should have things figured out by now. I'm a senior and after this I don't know what to do. I don't even know if I want to stick with the medium. And to not be happy with the beginning of the first real project in this painting class felt horrible and more confusing. I also told her how I've been doubting myself, feeling like I can't really paint. She assured me that wasn't true, that she had seen from the first series that I could if I set my mind to it.
Anyway, she was supportive and I'm glad that I was able to have a meltdown with her. The thoughts had been running around my head, and I definitely was feeling anxiety when I was painting...but the reasons weren't clear until I spewed them out at her.
I went to my painting professor having a breakdown, deciding to start over on a project even though we're already halfway through the time to make it in. It just became something I didn't want to work with anymore and wasn't going to turn out in any way I would be pleased with. She was understanding of my emotional reaction and supportive of my decision. She even said I had integrity for starting over at this point because it showed that I recognized I wasn't doing something as well as I could. She apparently didn't think the painting was as bad as I did. She did however agree that it would be better as an installation. I was painting stacked televisions with cropped parts of Mao's face on each screen, making up a full image of his face. It seemed pointless. Why move that concept to a canvas when you could actually use televisions? So painting it was just tedious. Hopefully I'll actually be able to realize that installation if I can speak to someone and figure out how to break up his face on screens.
Changing plans meant I had to go to the store and get a new canvas. Luckily I don't need to build this one because she understands the time crunch. And then figure out what I was going to paint. I bought the canvas, bussed it back to school, then walked home to figure out some new images. I brought them back for her to see, and it wasn't suitable for the project's guidelines. I got upset again, and just sat there trying to think of how I could fix things. I must have looked mad, so she asked why I was pissed. That's when I cried. I didn't want her to feel I was angry with her, so I explained it all. It felt like failure upon failure. And this is my last painting class so I've been feeling this pressure that I should have things figured out by now. I'm a senior and after this I don't know what to do. I don't even know if I want to stick with the medium. And to not be happy with the beginning of the first real project in this painting class felt horrible and more confusing. I also told her how I've been doubting myself, feeling like I can't really paint. She assured me that wasn't true, that she had seen from the first series that I could if I set my mind to it.
Anyway, she was supportive and I'm glad that I was able to have a meltdown with her. The thoughts had been running around my head, and I definitely was feeling anxiety when I was painting...but the reasons weren't clear until I spewed them out at her.
10-22--08
I dreamt I was living with a family that I know. Their parents have recently decided to divorce so it was a stressful place to be.
I'm not sure if I was living with the father or the mother. It was like they took turns with the house along with the kids.
The woman hated the neighbors, but the man loved them. The neighbors complained to me about it. I tried reconciling the differences by explaining to the neighbors how the two of them are very different people, but both really lovely if you give them a chance.
The neighbor guy just shrugged my words off his shoulders and walked away.
I remember looking into their house and seeing the whole family at dinner, sitting prim and proper.
There was an enormous paper bag in the kitchen. It was about a person's length wide and half that tall. It had recycling in it, mostly bottles. The woman was really upset about this, and cleaned up after her ex-husband spitefully. She also moved a desk so that his favorite spot to sit was no longer available. She moved the desk up against the wall where that seat normally was, in order to "make room for more seats on the other side."
It was all really uncomfortable, being involved in their lives, knowing they were just trying to hurt each other.
I'm not sure if I was living with the father or the mother. It was like they took turns with the house along with the kids.
The woman hated the neighbors, but the man loved them. The neighbors complained to me about it. I tried reconciling the differences by explaining to the neighbors how the two of them are very different people, but both really lovely if you give them a chance.
The neighbor guy just shrugged my words off his shoulders and walked away.
I remember looking into their house and seeing the whole family at dinner, sitting prim and proper.
There was an enormous paper bag in the kitchen. It was about a person's length wide and half that tall. It had recycling in it, mostly bottles. The woman was really upset about this, and cleaned up after her ex-husband spitefully. She also moved a desk so that his favorite spot to sit was no longer available. She moved the desk up against the wall where that seat normally was, in order to "make room for more seats on the other side."
It was all really uncomfortable, being involved in their lives, knowing they were just trying to hurt each other.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
goobledigook
After getting to school, still feeling like I was dreaming, things went very slowly and slightly surreal-y.
Every conversation I had with my friends, teachers, and acquaintances were painfully awkward. I just felt like I couldn't communicate most things properly, and definitely was failing at any casual banter.
Then in painting I had the longest dejavu I've ever had in my life. My professor was speaking to me about what I should do to make my painting better and the whole time I felt like I could see who was walking down the hall outside the room. I imagined each one walking towards me, making eye contact. All I wanted to do was run out there and see if it was reality in the moment, but I couldn't. I had to stay there listening to her feedback. Hopefully I didn't offend her because I know I must have either looked spacey, upset with her, or like I was completely ignoring her advice because I tried looking in her eyes but I couldn't engage in any conversation because I felt like I wasn't standing there with her.
On a related note, I understand my sister now. I understand why she used to say things like "I think I have a tumor." Because I think I have a tumor. Maybe not really, but today along with the inability to communicate on a normal level, and the intense dejavu, I've been having a throbbing piercing pain in the back of my brain.
And this isn't as strange, but I got a kick out of it. On the way into the gym today I overheard a couple girls.
"What are you going to do today?"
"The treadmill."
"Dido."
The word "dido" is just so rare it seemed noteworthy.
I feel like my conversations today would have been more appropriate if only they went something like:
"Hey, how's your day going?"
"Oh...Alright. I think I have a tumor."
"Dido."
Every conversation I had with my friends, teachers, and acquaintances were painfully awkward. I just felt like I couldn't communicate most things properly, and definitely was failing at any casual banter.
Then in painting I had the longest dejavu I've ever had in my life. My professor was speaking to me about what I should do to make my painting better and the whole time I felt like I could see who was walking down the hall outside the room. I imagined each one walking towards me, making eye contact. All I wanted to do was run out there and see if it was reality in the moment, but I couldn't. I had to stay there listening to her feedback. Hopefully I didn't offend her because I know I must have either looked spacey, upset with her, or like I was completely ignoring her advice because I tried looking in her eyes but I couldn't engage in any conversation because I felt like I wasn't standing there with her.
On a related note, I understand my sister now. I understand why she used to say things like "I think I have a tumor." Because I think I have a tumor. Maybe not really, but today along with the inability to communicate on a normal level, and the intense dejavu, I've been having a throbbing piercing pain in the back of my brain.
And this isn't as strange, but I got a kick out of it. On the way into the gym today I overheard a couple girls.
"What are you going to do today?"
"The treadmill."
"Dido."
The word "dido" is just so rare it seemed noteworthy.
I feel like my conversations today would have been more appropriate if only they went something like:
"Hey, how's your day going?"
"Oh...Alright. I think I have a tumor."
"Dido."
10-21-08
Last night I had probably the strangest dreams I've ever had. So strange I can't even explain them. I can say though that one of the dreams was about someone else's dreams and I was attempting to have dreams like theirs.
I also slept something like 12 hours. I think my circadian rhythm is off...
I also slept something like 12 hours. I think my circadian rhythm is off...
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Fleet Foxes
Saw Fleet Foxes on campus last night. They were amazing.
I would think everyone left that concert with a heart limp from all the emotional kneading. I did.
And I, along with every other girl who have seen them, is in love with the lead singer. His voice is heavenly.
The band is funny as a group too. They chat between songs, and collectively act self conscious.
An interesting thing about the concert is that I kept thinking of 30 or so years later, looking back to it as a memory. Thinking of the current as the past, I looked around realizing everyone was so young--the band, me, my friends, the rest of the crowd. I was thinking of how it's just like when my parents would go see concerts at my age or so (I would assume they did that at some point...) I also felt reassured everything would turn out okay. That one day, we will all be sitting around reflecting on the the fond memories from our youth, this being one of them.
It was weird feeling so conscious of being in an early stage of life.
I would think everyone left that concert with a heart limp from all the emotional kneading. I did.
And I, along with every other girl who have seen them, is in love with the lead singer. His voice is heavenly.
The band is funny as a group too. They chat between songs, and collectively act self conscious.
An interesting thing about the concert is that I kept thinking of 30 or so years later, looking back to it as a memory. Thinking of the current as the past, I looked around realizing everyone was so young--the band, me, my friends, the rest of the crowd. I was thinking of how it's just like when my parents would go see concerts at my age or so (I would assume they did that at some point...) I also felt reassured everything would turn out okay. That one day, we will all be sitting around reflecting on the the fond memories from our youth, this being one of them.
It was weird feeling so conscious of being in an early stage of life.
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