sketchablepaperfold

an aiming to be designer, with the soul of a writer

Tag: college

About the [un] written

After avoiding myself for so long, I’m starting to feel that urge [that almost desperate urge] to return, to come back to this insane analysis [or, in other words, my self-taught therapy]

Besides truly missing this, I need to come back. It is not a matter of will anymore. Right now, it is a need – an overwhelming need, by the way.

About Emptiness

“Stolen images. Can you picture it, the life we could have lived?”

Today, I feel quite empty, and I don’t know why. I’ve looked at the calendar and strived to find a memory, a glimpse of any image, word or moment that could make all of this understandable. Still, I found nothing.

College related stuff overwhelm me so much that I don’t even have the strength to write, to think. No, nowadays, thinking is way too hard, and I deliberately choose not to do it. Well, that actually might be the reason why I feel so bad today. Yes, it makes sense.

Emptiness, such a cutting word. Each and every letter echo in my hollow being, hurting more and more.

I should be hysterical. Yes, I should, but I’m not.

Last week I had my first show. My pieces were shown for the first time on a catwalk, and it felt so right, so right I could simply remember of all the moments I thought about giving up Fashion to dedicate to something else, and to thank everything for deciding not to give up.

And it felt great until the moment I realised that no one I invited was there. And then, it all become empty. Well, not that empty, since my best friends where there, and arrived in the exact moment I got more anxious. Of course, I couldn’t do anything but to almost throw myself in the arms of the one that can, actually, make me feel calmer.

But everyone else was missing, including the ones I lost along the way and, exactly for that, I didn’t even invite – specially D and B, whose absence still bothers me. That and the lack of a boyfriend, of the usual sense of family, and so on.

It feels bad, and I feel terrible. And yes, I think it’s worse because I’ve done – as usual – everything to cover it, to deny that I was hurt, injured, and now, I just don’t seem to be able to keep with that strategy.

Last year, I actually found time to write down my thoughts and feelings. Now, I don’t do it anymore. I don’t have time or courage to do it, to put words on the paper, giving them a tangible existence. It’s always easier to think I just need to go out, dance and forget it all, and that has been exactly what I’ve been doing in the last months.

To be honest, college is going pretty well, but with everything else, it feels like nothing, as if it didn’t matter at all. Yet, I know it’s important, because since a few days before the show, I was truly happy, bright and shiny – something I haven’t felt for a long, long, long time.

And today – well, to be honest, it started yesterday – , I know that I need to work, and I don’t feel like I’ll be able to do it. I’ve been delaying my own deadlines since last friday, and now, I can’t do it anymore.

Oddly, I feel better now. I feel like I’ll actually succeed at listening to my work’s soundtrack, and to work in a productive way.

[Yet, being myself, is it that odd that I’m better now than in the moment I began?!]

And Time Went By [The Year of The Change]

I can hardly believe that three months went by since my last post; that one year went by since my last Christmas messages; that so many things changed in so many different ways. I just don’t seem to grasp that. Even having heard a few “Happy Holidays”, I just don’t feel like it’s the end of 2011.

These days always led me to think about the ones of the previous year. So, nowadays, I’m thinking about my last reflections on 2010, and my hopes for 2011.

I considered 2010 the best year of my life, and only wished that 2011 was as good as 2010. I hoped that me and B. could, finally, become a couple; that my friendship with D. could be strong as it was; and that my college life could be, at least, nice.

Yet, as usual, 2011 was the year of the change. B and D went, oddly, away. My college life definitely improved, I got closer to my college friends, worked a lot, talked a lot, had a lot of fun. In a unlikely scenario, I met R., the one I subtly mentioned on The Quote, and started to think that it could actually work. Then, I thought that it was a terrible idea, that I should be alone, bla, bla, bla… And, lately, I’ve been thinking that if I don’t do something, I will, definitely, loose him – that’s a cloud I’m decided to avoid. Well, to be honest, soon I’ll be celebrating my two and a half years of loneliness, and I don’t seem to like it. R. seems to be a pretty nice guy, a little older, reliable, so sweet and he doesn’t seem to have an avalanche of issues I’d like to solve! I mean, I always feel interested for complicated guys that I’d love to fix and, for a change, this one seems to be able to give me the peace and the stability that I need, the embrace that will always make me feel at home, the love, the care and the joy that will, without a doubt, keep my heart warmer.

Oh, and in this last months, I’ve been missing my writing so much, but I just don’t seem to find the time to do it. This year, college is demanding much more work and effort, and my mind is always on Fashion Design. Still, even though I’ve improved my drawings, and actually feel that I’m better, it doesn’t seem to be enough. I maintain my insecurity, my insane fear of failure and of showing my drawings [since I always think they’re not good]. Everyone outside college almost gets hysterical when we’re talking about something related to my course, but I always think it’s normal and that I don’t need to be that excited. So, in the end of day, I love fashion – I simply don’t think I deserve to make it. Well, I guess I just need to keep working and pushing myself to the edge, and take every chance I’m given.

Oh well, the almost farewell to 2011, the year of the change. Again, I can only hope 2012 can be as fun as this one has been.

Living Between Several Passions

I often wonder if it’s enough. Drawing to earn my life, while living, in so many ways, for writing.

I wonder if I chose the right way, if it’s the right thing for me, if it’s really what I want to do.

I’m not trying to say I don’t love fashion, drawing, design, art in general – that would be the ultimate lie, and I’m simply not able to say it. Yet, writing is like breathing to me. It’s the thing that catches my breath, that prevents my heart from beating, the only thing I want and need to do when my thoughts are overwhelmed.

I always remember passing by my college – without having the smallest idea of what it was – and wonder about it. Thinking something like what are those two grey buildings over there? I never got the answer, until the day I actually went there. After a long while of tears, pain and suffering, I’ve actually felt home there. I felt like I was really supposed to be there, and wouldn’t picture my life in a different way.

I read college programs, many abroad, and I dream about seeing my collection in a catwalk, waving at the end of a show; about casually finding one of my pieces on a magazine, or reading my very own interviews as a designer. But I can’t help wondering if it’s enough.

In the other hand, if I had chosen a writing related course, everything would have been so different. I wouldn’t have lived half of the things I lived, wouldn’t have met none of the people I met – and who mean so much to me – ; probably, would have kept sat at the bottom of the mainstream, and wouldn’t have turned in the person I am today.

I don’t regret my choice, but sometimes, I find myself feeling my heart tighten, and this particular anguish whose provenance hasn’t been released – at least, not for me. I don’t know if I’m deceiving myself, and that doubt, that absence of answers [and also of ways to find them] destroys me, piece by piece.

As I’ve already made clear, I do love fashion and design, but I also love photography [the magic of the moment you keep safe in your memory for an entire eternity is something that I just can’t explain properly. It’s like I could go back in time, whenever I wanted. As if someone could actually stop the time, and have it as one wishes] and, of course, I’m so devoted to writing, painting scenes, pictures, entire exhibitions in my mind, and describing them with my very own words, without getting close to an end.

In a certain way, writing and drawing have always been together in my life. When working on actual projects, like novels, I always draw the places where my story happens. I carefully draw the houses and plan their inside, placing objects in order to give more reality to my scenes, and to allow everyone to imagine the actual place without problems. Of course, I also think about the way the characters are dressed, and even research – when writing a period romance – , to find out how was life in that time.

Surely, design has a strong connection with writing, since the entire history of design was built by designers and architects, people who worked with design… But the authentic question is: will it work for me? Will I be happy just devoting a part of my existence to words, while devoting the other part to fashion design? Will I be able to manage my love for photography, too? Will I ever feel complete, living like that, without having one passion – like everyone else does – but several meaningful ones? Will I find the time, the willingness, the strength to dedicate myself, with all of my heart to design, so that I can sincerely improve, and still do everything else? Will I ever manage my time correctly, so that I can do everything I love?

In the end, it all comes to one question: who the hell am I? What do I want? 

Will I ever find those answers, the real ones? And will I ever cease the anguish I have, exactly because I don’t know them?

So many things, so little time. Gosh, I often feel like my head is a few minutes to blow. I keep thinking, and don’t seem to find a thing. Soon, September will arrive and I’ll need to prove that I deserve the place I have in that Fashion Design class. I have to be stunningly great, yes, I do. Yet, I wonder where will I find the strength to do it; what is, in the end, my carrot, the goal I want to achieve and will make me fight , no matter what, to get it.

Gosh, Amy, take a breath. Or, better, start acting. You can’t stay like this any longer. You can’t wait anymore. You need to do something. 

Wishes – Deep Wishes. Nothing Else.

Sometimes, I just wish it could be easier. Everything, you know?

I wish living in our planet could be simplified, and not the hard thing it is nowadays. I wish I could breathe easily, knowing that I’d afford my college degree and find a job. I wish I could live as a young person, since I’m young and always behaved like an adult.

I wish I didn’t have to worry about a few things I worry.

I wish I could know exactly what to do, and how to do it. I wish I had an honest idea of the answer to the typical where do you see yourself in five years?, because I absolutely don’t. Well, I don’t even know if, in five years, I’ll be in the hemisphere I’m today, so how could I possibly know what and how I’ll be?

I wish a few things could be different, better. I wish that people didn’t have to worry about the insane expenses of their governors, could be sure they’ll have food in their tables and afford their kids a decent life.

I wish I could be like every college student, that keeps her old friends, and once in a while, meets them and attend to class dinners.

I wish I could understand all those statements I read in the internet about debts and familiar economy – stuff I actually needed to know so that I could help my parents – , but the people who write them just tend to forget that society isn’t made exclusively of lawyers. I wish they could understand that, and become more helpful than they are right now.

I wish I could truly collaborate in a creation of a better world but, sometimes, I just don’t know if I have the strength to do it.

Heading Back To Myself

It’s even hard to grasp that my classes are finally over. It’s so weird and different from high school… I was completely used to have a week just to do nothing at all, and say “goodbye” with teary eyes. This time, I couldn’t even notice that it was heading to the end.

Well, except for drawing classes, of course. I wouldn’t avoid the tears, even if I tried. That teacher – the one I honestly hated so many times – was simply amazing. He was the only one who I asked for personal advice about college, and his answer really helped me.

After all, I didn’t say goodbye to anyone – except my best friend over there. It just didn’t sound like an ending…

And now, after those insane last two weeks, I’ll have three entire months to rest, and do whatever I want to do. I’ll be able to think, to write, to go out with all the people I want to… But it will be really weird not getting up at 6 o’clock to have a class at 9, and not to spend all my time at college.

It will be great to be at home, since I’ll be able to draw each and every single day and truly commit myself with it, so that I can definitely improve. I’m heading to the 2nd year of fashion design so I need to be great.

And I’ll ease my mind, try to find a job and improve my skills, and try to figure out what I really want to do, who I really want to be.

Yes, this will be another vacation time dedicated to myself. Just like it’s used to be.

Oh, I forgot: in two weeks, I’ll have my birthday. I can’t even realize that another year has passed. It still seems like I’m convict saying  – and believing – I’m not going to college! After all, one year has gone by and, now, I can’t imagine myself anywhere but there.

The Header Issue

It might sound terrifically insane, but the header image is – honestly – an issue that’s quite bothering me, since I’ve no idea what to photograph.

So, I’ll just leave it as it is, and keep working on everything else. I’m just two weeks away from the end of 1st year of college, and I’ve got so much things to do… Papers, tests, works, photography works, a self-portrait that needs to be great… among a lot of things, of course.

I miss writing freely. I miss drawing. I miss keeping up with my beloved Sketchable Paper Fold and a lot of blogs here at WordPress – it’s been a long, long while since the last time I read Freshly Pressed…

And There Was a Click About Life

Sometimes, I think everything could actually be different.

When I truly think about my existence, there’s a lot I find that quite doesn’t make sense. It seems like I’m always doing things in order not to upset others, not to hurt them, not to let them down, not to shock them. Yes, always them. It seems like I’m not doing a thing for myself. And when I try to, I always think about how they will react.

If we really examine this wisely, we’ll see that I’m the fool that’s always too worried about others to worry about herself.

At certain points of my existence, I honestly feel like a complete fake: I can’t stand saying exactly what I think, and get a terrific feed-back. I always did it, one or two years ago, when I truly didn’t care about anyone. At college, things are quite different, and I just didn’t want to make enemies at the first shot. I wanted to be sociable, to talk to people. Therefore, I absolutely couldn’t say that, at first, I only seemed to like one or two people of my class.

I honestly wonder why I choose the Arts field. No, I was not pleasing someone, since all my colleagues chose Sciences, and I was also going to leave the school. I remember the first poems I wrote, but I can’t remember the day I woke up and wanted to be an architect, or why I chose it. I just can’t.

But here is the point: sometimes I think that my life could be exactly what I want it to be. And that feeling brings me a whole new sense of freedom. Not that I know what I want but, just knowing that this can be what I want makes everything better.

Sometimes at the train, I just stare at that blue, magnificent sea, take a breath and smile. I know that I can be different, if I try. I think that I could run a fashion magazine and have a nice touch computer on the table of my office, like those we see on TV. I think I actually could be appreciated by who I am and what I do, as long as I’m committed to it.

Sometimes I even think about throwing a bucket of ink at this blog, and paint it all white. I know that someday I’ll just lose my mind and do it.

[So yes, I think that, in a short period of time, I’ll just do what modernists did in the beginning of 20th century: face design as true commitment, and not just as a thing to spare time]

Sat in the Middle of the Bridge

Sometimes, I wish I could know what to do. I wish I could be the one that crosses the bridge without looking back, the one that doesn’t care about a thing and just moves on.

So, obviously, I wish I weren’t the one that takes a sit right in the middle of the bridge, without knowing which way to choose.

Sometimes, frustration overwhelms me and I find myself trying to melt into the floor – I wish that could be different.

Life at college sucks, sometimes – specially when you feel you’re inside a phantom college, where nothing happens and no one knows anything at all. I truly want to be different, I do, but it’s just too much for me to handle with. I don’t have a nice relationship with pressure and rudeness and sometimes I just think I don’t have the guts to keep doing it. Yes, that’s definitely the word: guts.

With these sentences, I’m not trying to say that I can’t handle anything at all, that I must be kept in a bell jar. All I’m trying to say is that I can’t handle everything. After all, I’m just a human being; I have to break, at some point.

Maybe theoretical courses are quite less personal, as students stay in their chairs and listen to the teacher. Artistic courses are infinitely more personal, though. We are relatively close to our teachers, they look at our stuff and, screaming, they say it sucks. Of course I don’t feel offended by their words: I just get uncomfortable with the screams.

Even though, they keep giving us great grades. Grades that I know I don’t deserve.

The stereotype keeps telling us that fashion designers don’t actually know how to draw and, for sure, I disagree. If I actually get to be a fashion designer, I won’t want to be like that. I want to be a great drawer, just that.

I think I’ve improved since I started college, but I don’t think it was enough. I try, I never skip a class and I’m always working. But it just doesn’t seem to work. Sometimes, I think I should attend to another type of course, quit drawing professionally once and for all, and just grab my charcoal when I’m in the mood.

I know that teachers scream at us so that we get to realize that we’re going in the wrong direction, that we can do better, if we want to. I absolutely grasp that they’re trying to cause us anger, in order to make us want to prove the world that we can do it better.

I grasp that, but it just doesn’t work with me. The effect of those screams in my unusual being comes with a swallowed emotion that can’t emerge until I finally get home. Oh, and I forgot about something else: the screams also make me think that I should quit design [even though I’m starting to think as an actual designer, and, moreover, I can’t imagine my existence without it…]