Hello again…

So I’ve always been intrigued by this world of blogging but never enough to venture into it myself because, after all, little of what I have to say needs to be broadcasted to all these sneeky peepers perversely browsing the web in the wee hours of the night. But lately, I’ve considered tracking my baby footsteps as I pursue my path into a world I’ve always dreamed to be apart of. And so as I was prompted by Ivan, I thought I’d give it a go seeing as it’ll be a sleepless night anyways.

I guess I’ll start with re-opening some wounds.
EMILY CARR. Emily fucking Carr.
And it was one day months ago that I held my breath as I sent in my application to the school that I had so much hope for. And since I wasn’t ready to move anywhere else to go to school, this was it. I put all my eager eggs into their sopping wet paper basket.
My first step was to attend the much anticipated National Portfolio Day which was conveniently hosted this year by Emily Carr. I was excited but moreso apprehensive as I packed my heart into my little tote bag and made myself go.

I arrive only to face an infinite line up leading through a doorway to face an Emily Carr rep that would critique your portfolio. And my portfolio was a portfolio in the loosest sense of the word. I had no canvasses perfectly wrapped and painted around the edges. I had no human sized sculptures tugged along on trolleys. And worst of all, I had no giant sized folder with all my pieces perfectly sealed in page protectors. I immediately felt like I was completely and utterly out of my league. But what was I to do, I was there so I stood in line. About an hour later, it was my turn. And just as I was about to enter, a girl was frantically packing her things away only to drop her sculpture (which I thought was fucking amazing) and have it shatter into a million pieces. She scraped up what she could and ran out crying. I was already pretty deflated by this time so I wasn’t so much nervous as I was dreading this very moment. The rep that I spoke to actually turned out to be incredibly helpful and critiqued it in a way that didn’t feel like he was trying to destroy me. He said that he could see graphic design or animation in my future. So with this, I was pretty satisfied.
I was ready to go see another school seeing as how this one went so well.

LITTLE DID I KNOW… that the next 2 hours would be spent lining up for a school that would never take a second look at me. Here it was, the bright and shiny sign for CAL ARTS. I imagined myself going to the very same school that Tim Burton went to and I couldn’t help myself. Having nowhere near his talent, I still had to try. I had nothing to lose.
After a grueling 2 hours surrounded by hopeful and incredibly fucking annoying high schoolers with their incredibly fucking annoying parents, it was my turn. The rep was a lady this time. And this lady…fucking tore me apart. I wanted to rip her genitals off and shove it in her eye so she could see what a dick she was being. She flipped through my sketchbooks like lightning while commenting on how random it was. Although I do admit that it was my first sketchbook from when I was a teenager and it was completely random. Nonetheless, it was a highly uncomfortable moment. So it turns out I didn’t really know much about Cal Arts and after she explained it, I knew that it wasn’t a right fit for me and I definately was not a right fit for them.

So that’s it, the day was scheduled to end at 3 and that it did. I was glad it was over and I left having very mixed emotions. I proceeded home that day in relief that this day was over and stressed out about how I was supposed to produce a polished portfolio in about a month. Granted I should have started earlier but…no excuses, I should have started earlier.

The next month was me working overtime trying to create something I thought was good enough, yet something I could finish according to my schedule. I always enjoyed making them, it took me away from everything and it just felt good. Yet when I finished, it always fell short of my expectations and it was just good enough. I just wanted it to be good.
I had done 13 pieces plus some from my sketchbook. It would have to do.

The day I had submitted it, it was a feverish frenzy of last minute tasks. After going to kinkos to have my pieces scanned, I felt somewhat better as the worker seemed to like my pieces and seemed to be in tuned with art but you work at kinkos…I needed to impress artists.

That night I finished the online questionnaire that was required along with my portfolio. Some of the questions they asked were: What is your definition of a society? What are you hobbies? What is the theme of your portfolio? And our answers were limited to 250 words. TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY WORDS. Do you know what 250 words is to an English major? We accidentally sneeze and 7 pages pop out. This was quite the obstacle but I finished.
All I had to do was wait. And I waited.

Honestly I wanted so badly not to be home alone when I received that letter but most times, things just don’t work out how you want. So there I was holding this flimsy envelope, knowing it was bad news. No welcome folder, no list of school supplies, no receipt for all the money you’d be taking from me. But as long as there’s a glimmer of hope that it says yes, you don’t cry yet. And I opened it to read what I secretly figured was coming. “your application was unsuccessful but please don’t hesitate to apply for the following year”. First came the icy feeling in your heart when you know something has gone terribly wrong. Then, I broke. the. fuck. down.

I knew why I wasn’t accepted. I knew I wasn’t good enough. But then I realized, just because you love something more than you have words to explain, doesn’t mean they can’t look at you and turn you away without a second thought. This was not the amazingly inspiring experience I envisioned it to be.

And after all that, I was somewhat relieved that I wouldn’t have to make another 4 year committment to school and go for yet another undergrad. One was quite enough. So being someone that’s more or less always succeeded in school, I was put in a panic to find my next step FAST. I considered schools in other cities, I considered selling printed t-shirts on etsy, I considered not going to school and crawling around on the sidewalk just so people would throw money at my work. I think I felt what desperation was. And as usual, I saw that panic-stricken ideas are usually A NONO. So I calmed the fuck down and let myself mellow out a bit before reconsidering my options. Little did I know, it was right under my nose the whole time.

CARMEN, my old english major. my new school guru.
Had you not introduced to me the program you went through, I’m sure writhing around on the sidewalk selling my work would still be an option. I witnessed your sleepless nights as I followed your fb posts and I was jealous that I wasn’t doing that too. Yet at the same time, I was so happy that we had both realized that art was more than a hobby for us. It never occured to me till recently that I’d be right at your heels! One day our cubicles will be right across from each other and we will be designing our asses off to our hearts content.

So here I am, happy to say that, less than a week after my interview with bcit and emily carr, accepted. Still waiting, but accepted.