I didn't write for a long time, not because I didn't feel the need to, rather, I had forgotten how to use my hands. I've been working non-stop for a month and a half, first on finishing up school, then moving out, and then getting ready for art school.
So, I finished my exams, and started packing soon afterward. I am now living with my parents for the first time in 3 years. Seems like over 25% of people under the age of 30 still live with their parents, usually because they can't find a job or afford to live anywhere else. I have a job, but it finishes in a week. In the meantime, I'm not sleeping.
Not because I'm an insomniac mind you, I've just been visiting with friends and only coming home late. Usually going to bed at 1:30 and then getting up again at 7:30. Biking helps a lot.
I worked like a maniac on my art portfolio. I sent it in to the art school, and I got my answer last Friday.
I didn't get in.
I called them up and the guy who was in charge of admissions told me that although my work was good, it lacked in variety and scope. I had only sent in my photos, and he said he wanted to see work in other mediums.
Well, I had never done anything like this ever in my life, I didn't know how to prepare, or anything. I need to call them and make arrangements to have it sent back to me by courier.
You see I need it for this Friday, which is in three days. I have an exposition with two other friends and we're putting our stuff up this weekend, so if I want anything, I have to get it now.
Funny. Can't get into an art school, but I can have an exposition of my work. I can get recognition on the web, but not in school.
School. Yeah, I got a 12 on my grammar exam. French grammar. My first language. Imagine how stupid I felt when I found out that I had 37 in the course. My average has dropped, drastically, down to a 68%. How the hell can I get into a master's program with an average like that!?
Well, next year, I will still be going to school, art school, as a non-degree student. And I will be taking my course somewhere else, and those two humanities courses I need.
Once my job is done, I am planning a small vacation. Visit friends who aren't too far away, and then I'm off to see Brendan. You know, I've never officially talked to you about Brendan. Brendan is the first man I ever loved. And then there's the problems with my parents, or rather that my parents don't know about Brendan, or any of the men in my life.
That'll be next month's column.