Fifty Six

For just a little update,

It’s nearly three in the morning, and I refuse to beat myself for my sleep. No, I’m beating myself up for something else (because why else would I be writing here again?).

Sometimes, in art school, I have this sudden panic that I’m not fulfilling my full potential of being someone smarter with a science degree. I learned in art school I am damn good at sketching, drawing, designing, and even writing, but I literally have panic attacks when I encounter something related to science. All my memories flood back leaving me trying to pick up what was left by obsessively reading Nature articles and understanding none of it. It is just like before. I become frustrated and regretful and read even more, looking up terms I don’t have to know anymore on Wikipedia and still not understanding those damn papers. I was used to do this when I was a science major, but now that I had a bad breakup with my last major, that habit usually comes with a pang in my stomach and near asphyxiation. I feel like I have a combination of Alzheimer’s and PTSD symptoms where I am afraid of recognizing the words and figures that caused me so much self-hatred and doubt. Then, I would feel lost when I realize I really forgot them.

Deep down, I have this secret dream that I shot down when I didn’t believe I could do it. I have a secret dream of becoming a doctor. When I was in high school, I had a turbulent personal life and used to print out the Hippocratic Oath and tape it to my wall. Now, through all the withdrawals and “adventures”,  I might be a different kind of doctor whose path to medicine is more curved than the usual “track.” I want to be the doctor who lived a great life and found great love before serving life, death, and wellness. I want to be a doctor who can draw and sing, the type that can tell when patients are thirsty or too cold, or scared or excited. Whenever I look at the possibilities of maybe going back to regular studying and using some of my old science credits to take a shot at medical school, I have this secret smile, because I know, as a designer, I am learning what it means to care for people by creating for them. Then, I am happy, because that girl who used to read the Hippocratic Oath to herself everyday gets a hug.

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Fifty

With family,

Sometimes you never know. Today, I picked up my sister from school and dropped off her friends and all was fine. Then I shared this awesome notebook called “People I Want to Punch in the Face” that I want to buy, and she retorted “Stop spending Mama’s money!” So then I ended up going to Yoga all depressed and moody, so depressed and moody I couldn’t keep my balance during the easiest poses.

After that disappointing yoga session, I went back home in an awful mood, in this awful chilly weather (It’s 60 degrees in California right now), and curled up in bed. Then she made bacon and chicken soup! And my grandma made my favorite food! And most of all, my mom made juice and didn’t force me to drink it. I drink some anyways, and no argument happened. No argument whatsoever. So, what started out as an awful day ended up okay.

As for school, I believe it’s going to be a while for me to go to Art Center, and still I’m going to keep applying until they let me in. I don’t suck, but I’m not  great either. I don’t stand out at all in terms of my work as the best in the class. I’m not talented enough to make it into Art Center within a year or obsessed enough to try. Overall, I was also upset today, because I’m bored. At least I had some routine, somewhere to go when I was in science. 20% of me miss reading meaningless research and lab work, but most of me believe I have a happier future. It’s just it seems farther than ever from where I am now.

I see my classmates from Smith appreciating the fall weather, but I have to remind myself that 60 degree Californian weather almost made me push everything off my shelves in a fit of rage today. Also, I need to refill my lamictal pills, which was something else that was pissing me off during yoga. Ugh.